Chapter 35 - The Architect in the Shadows
From the shadow of a green Maersk container stepped a man who looked like an older, more sinister portrait of Diane Vance.
He was tall, over six feet, with a mane of silver hair swept back from a face carved from granite. He wore an immaculate woolen pea coat against the freezing rain, completely unfazed by the storm. In his gloved right hand, he held a stainless-steel detonate switch.
Standing beside him, clutching Emily’s vintage teddy bear with manic, white-knuckled intensity, was Vanessa.
Her mascara was smeared across her cheeks, her hair wild and soaked from the rain. She looked utterly deranged, her eyes darting between Daniel and the boy like a trapped hyena.
“You couldn't just let us have the money, could you, Daniel?” Vanessa shrieked, her voice competing with the roar of the wind. “You had to be the hero! You had to dig through the floors, you had to call the police, you had to destroy everything! We gave that brat a home! We fed him! We tried to make him useful!”
“You put a shock collar on a six-year-old child!” Daniel roared, his voice thick with unadulterated fury. “You beat him, you starved him, and you tried to erase his mother’s memory!”
“A dog that doesn't obey must be trained!” Vanessa screamed back, stepping forward, her face contorting with hysteria. “He wouldn't call me Mother! He looked at me with Emily’s eyes every single day! He looked through me like I was dirt!”
“Silence, Vanessa,” the older man said. His voice was calm, baritone, carrying an absolute authority that instantly shut Vanessa’s mouth.
The man looked at Daniel with cold, appraising eyes.
“You’ve caused a tremendous amount of financial inconvenience tonight, Mr. Vance,” the man said smoothly. “I am Arthur Vance. The brother the state thought died in a yacht explosion in the Bahamas twenty years ago.”
“You’re Diane’s brother,” Daniel said, his hand slowly sliding toward the interior of his coat. “The one who embezzled the maritime trust.”
“Not embezzled, Daniel. Reclaimed,” Arthur replied, his thumb resting gently on the red toggle of the detonator. “Emily’s father thought he could hoard the Pacific routes for his bloodline. He was weak. Emily was weak. And you... you are an insect who wandered into a war between titans.”
May you like
Arthur gestured toward Mason with the tip of his detonator.
“Beneath that chair is a false hatch directly into the engine’s turbine exhaust. If I press this, the hatch opens, and the boy falls into the incinerator. You have three seconds to slide your weapon across the deck and sign the custody transfer papers on that crate.”
