Chapter 10: Darkness and the Missing Flash Drive
The sudden loss of backup power plunged the grand dining room into pitch blackness. The tactical flashlights cut through the gloom like erratic laser beams, bouncing wildly off the crystalware, the shattered French doors, and the startled faces of the agents and suspects. In the chaotic seconds of blindness, a sharp scuffle broke out near the buffet table, followed by the sound of heavy furniture sliding across the marble floor.
“Hold your positions! Do not fire!” Agent Hayes shouted over the rising din, her flashlight beam sweeping across the room in frantic arcs.
Clara stood frozen in the center of the chaos, her damp dress clinging to her shivering limbs. In the brief flash of a sweeping light beam, she saw a dark figure dart past her toward the shattered garden doors. It wasn't Victor, and it wasn't Sarah. The silhouette was too slender, moving with the practiced, silent grace of someone who knew every shadow in this house.
“Someone’s heading for the garden!” Clara cried out, pointing a shaking hand toward the gaping hole in the French doors.
Two tactical agents broke formation, charging through the shattered glass into the dark night, their boots crunching loudly over the debris. Agent Hayes rushed to the spot where Marcus had been kneeling a moment before. She swept her tactical light across the floor. The open manila folder was still there, its contents scattered like autumn leaves, but the encrypted flash drive Marcus had been holding was completely gone.
Hayes turned her flashlight beam toward Marcus, who was now lying face down on the floor near the buffet, a bruised temple leaking a small line of dark blood.
“Marcus! Marcus, talk to me,” Hayes ordered, kicking a stray piece of silverware aside and dropping to one knee beside him.
Marcus groaned, his eyes fluttering open as he pressed a hand against his bleeding head. “She… she took it,” he rasped, coughing slightly as dust from the ceiling settled around them.
“Who took it, Marcus?” Hayes demanded, grabbing his collar and pulling him slightly upward.
“Eleanor,” Marcus whispered, pointing a trembling finger toward the dark hallway leading to the service stairs. “She had a second key to the backup generator. She planned this from the beginning.”
Across the room, Victor was finally freed by the tactical officers. He stumbled toward Clara, ignoring the federal agents, and grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes wild with desperation.
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“Clara, listen to me very carefully,” Victor said, his voice shaking violently. “Eleanor doesn't want the money. She wants the vault. And the vault contains something that can destroy everyone in this room—including you.”
Before Clara could reply, the emergency lights flickered back on with a loud hum, revealing an empty hallway and a set of heavy iron service doors standing wide open.
