Chapter 7 - AIRBORNE SHADOWS
The private Gulfstream cut through the midnight clouds at forty thousand feet.
Inside the cabin, luxury contrasted sharply with the suffocating tension.
Dominic sat by the window, staring down at the dark expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.
Viktor sat across from him, reviewing encrypted satellite tracking data on a tactical tablet.
“Her private jet filed a flight plan for Geneva,” Viktor said, looking up. “They’ll land in a private hangar owned by Sterling Enterprises.”
Dominic didn’t speak.
He opened his palm.
Inside lay the silver gardenia charm he’d found in the bedroom.
“Boss,” Viktor hesitated. “There’s something else.”
Dominic looked at him.
“The foundation records we managed to salvage from the digital vault? They implicate more than just Richard Sterling.”
“Go on.”
“Half the city council, two federal judges, and the Chief of Police.”
Dominic let out a cold, humorless laugh.
“A complete house of cards.”
“If we release this data publicly, it brings down half the upper echelon of Chicago,” Viktor warned. “They won’t go down quietly.”
“Let them try.”
The cockpit door slid open.
The co-pilot stepped out, looking uneasy.
“Mr. Moretti, we’re receiving an encrypted satellite transmission from ground control in Switzerland.”
“Put it on the cabin screen.”
A moment later, the high-definition monitor flickered to life.
Richard Sterling’s face appeared on screen.
The older man sat in a plush leather chair, swirling a glass of scotch.
A smug smile played on his lips.
“Dominic,” Richard’s voice echoed smoothly through the cabin speakers. “I hear my daughter is upset about her wedding being canceled.”
“Your daughter is a criminal, Richard,” Dominic replied, his voice deadpan. “And you’re an accessory to murder.”
Richard chuckled.
“Such harsh words. But let’s talk business. You have the original hard copies of the foundation audit. I have something you want.”
Viktor tapped his tablet furiously.
“Tracing the signal… firewall is blocking us.”
Dominic leaned forward, locking eyes with the screen.
“What could you possibly have that I want?”
The screen flickered.
A new video feed opened in a split window.
Margaret Vale.
Hannah’s mother.
She was tied to a chair in a sterile, white-tiled room.
A man standing behind her held a silenced pistol pressed against her temple.
Dominic’s blood ran cold.
May you like
“She’s a very sweet woman,” Richard smiled coldly. “She told us everything about where Elena hid the final pieces of evidence. If you land in Geneva, she dies. If you turn around and drop the investigation, she lives.”
The screen went black.
