Chapter 77 - The Judas Protocol
Alexander’s eyes widened. He reached his hand into the lining of his heavy winter coat, tearing open the inner seam where he had stored his encrypted Vance Holdings emergency transponder—the device he had believed was dead and deactivated since the bridge collapse in Geneva.
The transponder's casing was intact, but embedded within its miniature circuit board was a microscopic parasite chip, pulsing with a faint blue ultraviolet frequency.
"It wasn't Richard," Alexander said, realization striking him like a hammer blow. "It was planted on me before I even left New York."
"Victoria," Elena said, the name dripping with absolute poison.
"She gave me the silver coat pin the night before I flew to Zurich," Alexander confessed, his chest heaving as he ripped the device from the fabric and threw it onto the stone floor, crushing it beneath his heavy boot. "She said it was a family heirloom. A good luck charm for the board meeting."
"It doesn't matter who gave it to you!" Richard shrieked, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he dragged himself into the titanium room. "They're twelve miles out! In those combat transports, that gives us less than eight minutes! We're trapped in a rat hole!"
Alexander didn't panic. The icy clarity that had made him the most feared corporate raider in the Western Hemisphere took over his mind completely. He looked at the console, then turned to Elena.
"Can you access the bunker's defensive perimeter from this terminal?" he asked, his voice steady and calm.
Elena stepped up to the keyboard, her fingers dancing across the keys with an expertise born of long-buried muscle memory. Her father had trained her for this her entire childhood, masquerading the lessons as simple computer puzzles.
"The bunker has three exterior blast gates and an automated suppression grid," Elena said, monitoring the video feeds from the surface. "Pneumatic flak traps hidden in the forest road. But they're military-grade operatives, Alexander. Flak traps will only slow them down by four minutes."
"Four minutes is enough," Alexander said, moving to an armory locker set into the reinforced wall. He pulled the manual lever, the metal doors sliding back to reveal racks of tactical rifles, body armor, and claymore directional mines. "We aren't going to hide down here and wait for them to pump neurotoxin through the ventilation shafts."
He pulled a heavy tactical vest over his shoulders, securing the straps with sharp clicks, and loaded a customized black assault rifle.
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"Alexander, what are you doing?" Elena asked, grabbing his forearm. Her eyes were wide with sudden panic. "You can't take on an entire squadron alone!"
"I spent three years thinking I was protecting you by leaving you," Alexander said, his gaze burning into hers with unwavering certainty. "I was a coward. I ran away behind lawyers and bank transfers. I'm not running anymore, Elena. I'm going up to that tree line, and I am going to buy you and our son the time you need to purge the Ledger."
