Chapter 9 - The Siege at Dawn
A squad of armed men in unmarked tactical gear swarmed through the open front doors, their assault rifles raised and pointed directly at the group in the foyer. They weren't police officers; their black uniforms lacked any insignia, and their faces were obscured by dark ballistic masks.
“Nobody move! Drop the cane, old man! Hands on your heads, now!” the lead operative barked, his voice altered by a digital modulator to sound deep and mechanical.
Detective Miller reacted instantly, drawing her service weapon and diving behind the heavy mahogany desk, using it as cover.
“Stand down! This is a federal crime scene! I am Detective Miller, P.D.!” she yelled back, aiming her pistol over the edge of the wood.
Arthur Pendelton didn't flinch. He remained kneeling in front of Lily, his single good eye glaring with pure fury at the masked intruders. He quickly reached out, grabbing Lily by the shoulder and shoving her behind the heavy folds of a velvet curtain draped near the base of the staircase.
“Hide the journal, Lily! Don't let them take it!” Arthur commanded fiercely, before standing up to block the path to the little girl with his own frail body.
“Old man, step aside or you won't live to see the sunrise,” the lead mercenary threatened, taking a menacing step forward, his rifle barrel trained squarely on Arthur’s chest.
The young maid shrieked in absolute terror, covering her head as she dropped to the floor near the base of the stairs, trembling uncontrollably.
Arthur let out a harsh, gravelly laugh, his chest heaving with defiance.
“You think Julian sent you to retrieve the deed?” Arthur shouted over the hum of the cooling systems. “You’re too late! A digital copy of the original transfer was automatically uploaded to the city’s public municipal archive the moment the power cut out!”
The masked operative froze mid-step, his digital visor blinking as he frantically tapped a comms piece built into his helmet.
“Sir, we have a major problem,” the operative spoke into his mic, his voice laced with sudden panic. “The old man says the municipal archive has the files.”
A chillingly familiar voice crackled loudly through the operative’s open radio speaker, echoing clearly off the marble walls of the foyer.
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“Then burn the house down with all of them inside,” Julian Vance’s cold voice ordered from the other end of the line.
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