Chapter 18: The Abduction
Charlotte didn't wait twenty-four hours. She didn't believe in playing defense.
"If the Syndicate wants my clean-energy grid, it means the master algorithms are the only thing keeping them from taking it by force," Charlotte reasoned, pacing across her office. "Where is the physical drive, Marcus? The one my mother hid?"
"It’s at the Blacksite R&D facility in the mountains," Marcus replied, pulling up a map on the screens. "Only one person has the biometric clearance to access it. Dr. Elias Vance. He’s Arthur Vance’s nephew, but he hated his uncle. He was unconditionally loyal to your mother. He’s the lead engineer."
"Get him on the phone. Now. I want that drive relocated to this vault before midnight," Charlotte ordered.
Marcus dialed the encrypted line. It rang. And rang.
Then, a click. But it wasn't Dr. Vance who answered.
"Your security at the Blacksite was woefully inadequate, Miss Vale," the smooth, mocking voice of Lord Alistair Croft echoed through the speaker.
Charlotte’s blood ran cold. "Croft. What have you done?"
"I told you the Syndicate doesn't play games, Charlotte," Croft said. In the background, the muffled, pained groans of Dr. Elias Vance could be heard. "Your loyal doctor is currently in the back of my private transport. And in his trembling hands, he holds the master drive to your energy grid."
"If you kill him, the biometrics lock the drive permanently," Charlotte bluffed, her mind racing.
"We are well aware," Croft chuckled. "That is why we are taking Dr. Vance to Blackwood Manor. Our specialists will spend the night extracting the encryption keys from his mind. It might be painful, but I assure you, it will be effective. You thought you could outsmart us? You are just a child playing in a graveyard."
The line went dead.
Marcus slammed his fist onto the console, cracking the glass. "They breached the Blacksite. They killed six of my men. Boss, Blackwood Manor is an absolute fortress. It’s located on a private island fifty miles offshore. It’s guarded by ex-military mercenaries. We can't just call the FBI. The Syndicate probably owns the director of the FBI."
Charlotte stood absolutely still. The image of her mother’s plane crashing into the ocean flashed in her mind. The pain of the last three months, the humiliation in the lobby, the cold, ruthless greed of men who thought they could take whatever they wanted.
She walked over to her desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a heavy, matte-black case. She popped the latches. Inside was a custom, suppressed tactical sidearm, polished to a mirror shine.
"We aren't calling the FBI, Marcus," Charlotte said, her voice dropping into a register of pure, uncompromising violence. "They think I’m a CEO. They think I fight with lawyers and bank transfers. It’s time I showed them what Eleanor Vale’s daughter is truly capable of."
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Marcus’s eyes widened. "Boss, you can't be serious. You are not going to a tactical breach."
"I am the Queen of this empire, Marcus," Charlotte stated, slamming a magazine into the weapon with a sharp, lethal click. "And a Queen protects her people. Assemble the strike team. We are going to Blackwood Manor. And we are going to burn it to the ground."
