Chapter 20: Departure for the Abyss
Two hours later, the private Gulfstream G700 sat idling on the tarmac of the Westchester private airstrip, its twin jet engines roaring with a deep, powerful frequency against the gray morning sky.
Marcus stood at the foot of the aircraft steps, dressed in a sharp tactical suit, holding a secure encrypted satellite terminal. As Julian walked across the tarmac, carrying a single leather carry-on bag containing the solid-state drive and the silver hairpin, Marcus stepped forward with a troubled expression.
"Mr. Vance, I strongly advise against going to Geneva alone," Marcus said, his military instincts screaming warnings. "Ezekiel Vance is setting a trap. That penthouse in Mayfair and the Swiss archives are surrounded by private security contractors and syndicate operatives. Walking in without backup is suicide."
"It's not suicide, Marcus. It's an invitation," Julian replied, his voice cold, steady, and terrifyingly calm. He stopped at the base of the stairs and turned to face his most trusted ally. "If I take an army with me, Ezekiel goes into hiding, and the syndicate simply shifts its leadership to another shadow puppet. To kill the monster, you have to walk straight into its jaws."
"And the estate? And Lily?" Marcus asked firmly.
"The estate remains in lockdown under your absolute command," Julian ordered, his eyes locking onto Marcus with fierce intensity. "Dr. Henderson and nurse Sarah stay inside the fortified bunker. No visitors, no exceptions. If I don't return within seventy-two hours, you activate the contingency protocol: you take Lily, access the secondary offshore trust accounts, and disappear completely off the grid."
Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he gave a sharp, professional nod. "Understood, sir. But I expect you back. You still owe me a proper vacation."
A rare, grim smirk touched the corners of Julian’s mouth. "Save my seat, Marcus."
May you like
Julian turned and climbed the aircraft steps, disappearing into the cabin. The heavy hatch sealed shut with a pneumatic hiss, and moments later, the Gulfstream taxied down the runway, accelerating rapidly before lifting off into the clouds, cutting a sharp path across the Atlantic toward the dark, dangerous heart of the European syndicate.
The game had officially moved to their board, but the rules were about to be rewritten by a Sterling.
