Chapter 5 - THE TROJAN HORSE
Enzo took the stairs three at a time, his boots pounding against the hardwood with terrifying urgency.
If Preston had sent a hit squad to eliminate the witnesses, Harper was their primary target.
He shoved the master suite door open with a violent kick, his Beretta raised and ready to fire at any shadow.
The room was empty.
The French doors leading out to the snow-covered balcony stood wide open, letting the biting winter wind whip the sheer white curtains into a frenzy.
"Harper!" Enzo roared, stepping out onto the frost-coated stone balcony.
The snow outside was disturbed by fresh footprints leading down the exterior iron fire escape toward the dark, sprawling gardens below.
Enzo cursed under his breath, holstering his weapon as he vaulted over the balcony railing, dropping ten feet down onto the icy ground below with a dull thud.
He sprinted across the frozen lawn, his breath pluming heavily in the sub-zero air, following the single set of smaller footprints trailing away from the mansion toward the private boathouse on Lake Michigan.
The lake was a churning mass of black water and floating ice chunks, beaten mercilessly by the blizzard winds.
As Enzo approached the weathered wooden doors of the boathouse, he saw a sliver of yellow light spilling out from beneath the crack.
He drew his Beretta once more, pressing his back against the exterior wall, listening intently.
Inside, a muffled voice was speaking over a secure satellite phone.
"...the DeLuca boy is distracted," a harsh, raspy voice echoed through the wooden slats.
"Just like you planned, Mr. Whitcomb. The girl is securing the ledger now."
Enzo didn't wait to hear another word.
He kicked the heavy oak door off its rusted hinges with a thunderous crash, splintering the wood into a thousand jagged pieces.
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Inside, standing by a steel desk illuminated by a single green-tinted computer monitor, was Harper Whitcomb.
And she was holding Preston Whitcomb’s encrypted master ledger in her bare hands.
