Chapter 4 - The Sealed Estate
"Thomas programmed the security system," Victor said smoothly, taking a small silver device from his pocket and pressing a button. "When the lockdown command was given upstairs, it didn't just lock the doors. It activated the signal jammers in the security perimeter. No calls get in or out of this estate without my clearance."
I looked at Thomas. The estate manager lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes.
"You really thought out every detail eight years ago, didn't you, Victor?" I asked, setting my useless phone on the wooden desk beside the VCR.
"A good secretary plans for every eventuality," Victor said, pulling a compact, dark-finished 9mm pistol from beneath his armpit holster. "I kept Thomas close, I kept Marco quiet, and I kept you focused on running the legitimate shipping business. Everything was perfect until that damn maid kept a cassette tape in her quarters for nearly a decade."
Marco gasped, scrambling backward on his hands and knees. "Victor! What are you doing? You can't shoot Luca! There are twenty guests upstairs!"
"Twenty guests who heard an old maid bring up an old story," Victor replied, keeping the gun trained squarely on my chest. "When the fire breaks out in the legacy security archive due to an unfortunate short circuit in this ancient electronic equipment, tragically, Luca, Marco, and Thomas will be trapped inside. I will escape through the emergency cellar hatch, raise the alarm, and mourn the loss of my beloved employer."
"You're insane," Marco screamed. "They'll inspect the bodies! They'll find bullet wounds!"
"Not after three hundred gallons of furnace oil from the storage room next door burn this basement to ash," Victor said calmly.
I glanced at the distance between Victor and myself—roughly eight feet. The narrow room gave me no cover. Thomas was paralyzed with fear, and Marco was weeping on the floor.
"Victor," I said, keeping my voice steady, stalling for time. "You missed one detail."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "I don't miss details, Luca."
"You didn't check who was at the dinner table tonight."
Victor hesitated for a fraction of a second. "What are you talking about?"
"You were so focused on Elena and the tape that you didn't notice the guest sitting at the far end of the table," I said, taking half a step forward. "Deputy District Attorney Marcus Vance. He came as my personal guest tonight to discuss our annual corporate foundation audit."
Victor's eyes flickered with a split second of uncertainty. "You're lying."
"When Thomas engaged the lockdown system upstairs," I continued, taking another quiet step closer, "Marcus knew immediately that something was wrong. He carries a satellite communication link in his briefcase for emergency federal warrants. By now, he's already bypassed your local jammer."
Victor's finger tightened on the trigger. "Nice try, Luca. But you die first."
Before Victor could squeeze the trigger, a sharp, deafening blast echoed through the metal room.
A heavy iron wrench flew through the air from behind the server rack, striking Victor squarely across the side of his face. His gun discharged wildly into the concrete floor, sparking against the stone, as Victor stumbled sideways, groaning in pain.
Thomas Reed had thrown the wrench.
"Run, Mr. Moretti!" Thomas screamed, lunging forward to tackle Victor around the waist.
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I didn't run. I closed the distance instantly, driving my knee hard into Victor's ribcage as he fell. The pistol dropped from his fingers, clattering across the floor. I kicked the gun far beneath the metal filing cabinets, then pulled Victor up by his lapels, driving my fist into his jaw with eight years of accumulated grief and rage.
Victor crashed heavily against the Panasonic VCR, knocking the monitor to the ground, where the glass screen shattered into a burst of sparks and dark smoke.
