Chapter 8: The Banco Mercantil Vault
The private elevator of the Banco Mercantil tower in downtown Monterrey hummed smoothly as it descended to the subterranean security levels. Sebastián stood inside the polished mahogany cabin, his tailored suit jacket buttoned, his expression cold and unyielding.
Octavio Alcázar sat across from him on the leather bench, his hands bound tightly behind his back with industrial zip-ties, a strip of grey duct tape plastered firmly over his mouth.
When Octavio had attempted to intercept Sebastián’s private transport vehicle outside the hospital parking garage three hours earlier with two municipal police officers, Sebastián hadn’t bothered to argue. He had simply used his personal security detail to disarm the corrupt officers, tackle his cousin against the hood of a Mercedes, and drag him into the back of his SUV.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the cavernous, high-security vault level guarded by thick steel doors and armed vault technicians.
Sebastián stepped out first, grabbing Octavio by the collar of his expensive designer shirt and hauling him forward onto the polished granite floor.
The senior vault manager, an older man named Don Ernesto who had served the Alcázar family for decades, stepped out from behind the mahogany counter. His eyes widened in sheer disbelief as he saw the corporate titan dragging the family’s chief legal counsel across his pristine floor.
“Mr... Mr. Alcázar!” Don Ernesto stammered, rushing forward. “What on earth is happening here? You can’t bring—‘
“Unlock Vault 404,” Sebastián commanded, his voice echoing off the concrete walls with terrifying authority.
Don Ernesto swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but Vault 404 is registered under a dual-key corporate trust managed exclusively by Doña Rebeca Alcázar and Mr. Octavio. Without both of their physical signatures and biometric authorizations—‘
Sebastián didn't let him finish. He hauled Octavio forward, shoved his cousin’s face directly against the biometric scanner mounted beside the main vault control panel, and grabbed Octavio’s right thumb, pressing it forcibly against the glass reader.
BEEP.
A red light flashed. ACCESS DENIED.
“Octavio,” Sebastián growled, ripping the duct tape off his cousin’s mouth with a sharp, brutal yank. Octavio let out a sharp cry of pain, gasping for air on the cold floor. “You have three seconds to give me the override PIN, or I swear to God I’ll break every bone in your right hand before I hand you over to the federal prosecutor for corporate treason.”
Octavio’s eyes darted wildly around the vault, sweat pouring down his pale forehead. He looked at Don Ernesto, then back at Sebastián’s terrifying, bloodshot eyes.
“You’re insane,” Octavio gasped, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. “Rebeca will destroy you. She’ll have you locked up in a psychiatric ward before sunset!”
“She’s welcome to try,” Sebastián replied, pressing the heel of his leather shoe down lightly against Octavio’s right wrist. The lawyer winced, his face twisting in agony. “The PIN, Octavio. Now.”
“Nine-four-zero-two,” Octavio sobbed, collapsing against the granite floor. “Nine-four-zero-two! Just don’t break my hand!”
Sebastián punched the numbers rapidly into the secondary keypad beside the scanner. He grabbed Octavio’s thumb again and forced it onto the glass reader.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.
May you like
The green light flashed.
Deep within the reinforced concrete wall, a massive hydraulic lock hissed, and the heavy steel door of Vault 404 slowly swung open.
