Chapter 7 - The Battering Ram
The heavy oak door of the vestry burst inward in an explosion of splintered wood and flying iron bolts. Three armed men in black tactical gear poured into the room, their suppressed submachine guns raised and sweeping the space with practiced efficiency. Behind them stepped Robert Vance, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive charcoal suit with a slow, leisurely motion, a smug smile plastered across his face.
“Well, well, well,” Robert drawled, stepping over the threshold and surveying the chaotic scene. His eyes flicked to Eleanor, who was cowering against the far stone wall, and then to Julian, who stood calmly by the empty velvet-lined desk. “Looks like the wedding reception got a little out of hand, big brother.”
Julian didn't flinch. He kept his hands resting casually inside the pockets of his black tuxedo trousers, his gaze fixed on his younger brother with an icy disdain that made Robert’s smile falter for a fraction of a second.
“You always were terrible at hiding your ambition, Robert,” Julian said, his voice steady and resonant in the confined space. “Stealing from the basement vault? Rewriting corporate bylaws behind my back? It’s pathetic. You couldn’t build an empire of your own, so you decided to scavenge off mine like a common rat.”
Robert’s jaw tightened, the smug veneer cracking to reveal a deep-seated, lifelong resentment. “Scavenge? This empire should have been mine from the start, Julian! Father gave you everything just because you were born twelve minutes earlier! I built the international logistics network that made Vance Corp a global superpower, while you sat in the boardroom playing philanthropist!”
“Logistics network?” Julian scoffed, taking a slow step forward. “You mean the human trafficking pipeline operating out of the eastern European shipping hubs? Don't play the victim with me, Robert. The thumb drive you forgot to wipe from the basement safe downloaded every single encrypted ledger of your black-market operations directly to federal servers twenty minutes ago.”
Robert’s face drained of color, his eyes widening in sudden, manic panic. He lunged forward, grabbing the collar of Julian’s tuxedo jacket and slamming him against the stone wall. The tactical operatives raised their weapons, their lasers painting red dots across Julian’s chest.
“Where is it?” Robert hissed, spittle flying from his lips, his voice cracking with desperation. “Where did you send the ledgers, Julian? Tell me right now or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in your chest right here in this godforsaken cathedral!”
Julian looked down at the trembling hands clutching his lapel, a cold, humorless smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Federal Cyber Crimes division, Robert. They’ve had the files since the moment you logged into the mainframe. By sunrise, Interpol will freeze every asset you own, and you’ll be spending the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security prison.”
Before Robert could react, a piercing, automated alarm began wailing throughout the entire cathedral complex. The red emergency strobe lights flashed to life overhead, casting a frantic, bloody glow across the room.
“Sir!” one of the tactical operatives shouted over the screeching alarm, pressing a finger to his earpiece. “Perimeter breach! Local law enforcement just surrounded the building, and federal agents are breaching the main gates!”
Robert shoved Julian away, stumbling backward in horror. He glared at his brother with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You planned this. You knew I was coming.”
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“I didn't have to plan anything, Robert,” Julian replied, straightening his lapels with effortless composure. “Greed always leaves a paper trail. You just handed me the shovel to dig your grave.”
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