Chapter 39 - The Executioner’s Banquet
They descended the stone stairs into the catacombs beneath the church, stepping over shattered marble tablets and rusted iron gates.
The subterranean air smelled of damp earth, centuries-old incense, and the sharp chemical reek of thermite paste.
The deeper they went, the brighter the light became.
At the end of the long stone corridor was a massive vaulted chamber lined with the sarcophagi of Arthur’s ancestors.
In the center of the room, an opulent dining table had been set with silver candelabras, crystal stemware, and white linen.
Sitting at the foot of the table was Beatrice, her mouth gagged with silver tape, her wrists bound tightly to the carved oak chair.
Her eyes went wide with terror as she saw Arthur emerge from the shadows.
"Welcome to the family reunion, Arthur," a smooth voice echoed from the darkness behind the central altar.
Donald Vance stepped into the candlelight.
He had removed his suit jacket, wearing a tactical holster over a crisp, blood-spattered dress shirt.
In his left hand, he held a glass of vintage wine.
In his right, a remote detonator.
"Let her go, Vance," Arthur said, keeping his weapon trained directly between the older man's eyes. "This is between you and me."
"Oh, it was never between you and me, dear boy," Vance smiled, taking a slow sip of the wine. "You were simply the golden retriever Marcus kept around to make himself feel virtuous."
"You killed my father," Arthur said, taking a step forward.
"Marcus had grown weak," Vance replied coldly. "He wanted to shut down the auction program. He wanted to give this creature her freedom."
Vance pointed the stem of his wine glass toward Clara.
"He forgot that an investment requires a return," Vance continued. "The Geneva consortium paid fifty million for her genetic key. Did he really think I would let him retire on moral grounds?"
"The key is destroyed," Clara said, stepping beside Arthur, her pistol locked onto Vance's heart. "The pendant shattered in the ballroom."
Vance chuckled, a low, condescending sound that echoed off the stone walls.
"You really don't know, do you, little bird?" Vance said, shaking his head with mock pity.
Clara’s expression remained frozen, but Arthur noticed the slight tremor in her hands.
"The key was never in the diamond, Clara," Vance smiled, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph.
"What are you saying?" Arthur demanded.
"The synthetic sequence isn't digital data," Vance said, his voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "It’s biological. It's written into her blood."
May you like
Vance raised the remote detonator and smiled at Arthur.
"She knew that from the beginning, Arthur. To give the buyer what he wants, all I need is her corpse."
