Chapter 8
The mainframe screen illuminated Julian’s face with a pale, cold light as he scrolled through the encrypted inventory logs of Sterling Biotech. The neurotoxin used in the martini olive was cataloged under a restricted federal research code—Compound 74-Delta. According to the database, only three senior executives in the entire corporation held the security clearance required to authorize its extraction from the cleanroom labs: Julian himself, Elena Vance in her capacity as vice president of acquisitions, and Dr. Arthur Pendelton, the head of research and development.
Julian’s jaw tightened. Elena did not have the scientific expertise to isolate or synthesize Compound 74-Delta on her own. She needed a collaborator with lab access and a motive. Dr. Arthur Pendelton had been lobbying the board for months to sell off the biotech division to a foreign conglomerate—a move Julian had aggressively blocked because the technology had dual-use military applications he refused to commercialize.
The conspiracy was complete. Elena provided the social leverage and the corporate sabotage strategy; Arthur provided the lethal weapon. And together, they had planned to seize controlling shares of Sterling Enterprises following Julian’s sudden, unexplained medical collapse at a high-end restaurant.
Before Julian could download the encrypted transfer logs to his biometric key, a sharp, urgent beep echoed from the hallway outside.
Julian yanked the key from the USB port, shoved it into his pocket, and lunged toward the office door just as the heavy oak panel swung inward. Clara stumbled backward into the room, her breath coming in ragged gasps, clutching her bruised arm even tighter.
“He’s here,” Clara whispered frantically, her eyes wide with terror. “The police stopped Marcus’s car, but he flashed a federal task force badge and ditched the patrol officers. He’s inside the building. He came through the delivery dock.”
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Julian didn't hesitate. He grabbed Clara by the wrist, pulling her behind the heavy mahogany shelving unit that lined the back wall of the office. The room had only one door, and escape through the alley-facing window was impossible due to iron security bars. They were trapped.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the carpeted hallway. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each step resonated with lethal intent. A shadow fell across the frosted glass panel of the office door. A gloved hand gripped the brass handle, turning it slowly. The latch clicked open.
