Chapter 8 - The Trap Sprung
Grant shielded his eyes, shielding the cracked mug with his body. Outside, the sound of heavy boots echoed against the pavement, accompanied by the racking of shotgun slides.
"Mercer!" the voice called out again. It was Victor Vance, his arrogant laughter echoing through the shattered windows. "Did you really think my uncle wouldn't keep a permanent eye on this dump? We knew the woman would eventually break and tell someone where the ledger was hidden. Thanks for doing the heavy lifting for us!"
Marcus immediately drew his sidearm, pushing Grant behind a steel support beam. "Boss, we’ve got at least eight armed men surrounding the building. We’re pinned."
"They don't want a gunfight, Marcus," Grant said calmly, his mind working at lightning speed. "They want the ledger. If they shoot us now, they risk destroying the evidence."
Grant reached inside the cracked red mug. His fingers felt something wrapped in oilcloth shoved tight into the bottom. He pulled out a small, dark USB drive and a folded black leather notebook. He slipped both into the waterproof inner pocket of his tactical jacket, then stuffed a handful of worthless paper scraps back into the mug.
"Victor!" Grant shouted out, his voice echoing in the dark garage. "You want the ledger? Come get it yourself!"
"Send two men in," Victor ordered from outside. "Take the mug and kill them both. Make it look like a break-in gone wrong."
Two heavy-set men stepped through the broken bay door, shotguns raised. But before they could clear the doorway, Marcus threw a flashbang grenade into the middle of the room.
A blinding flash and a deafening bang exploded, disorienting the intruders. Marcus and his men moved instantly, taking down the two gunmen with non-lethal precision.
"Go! Go! Out the back!" Marcus yelled, firing warning shots toward the entrance to keep the remaining thugs suppressed.
Grant sprinted toward the rear exit, clutching his jacket tight. Bullets splintered the wooden frames behind them, but they burst through the back door into the rainy alley, vaulting over the rusted fence just as their armored SUV slid around the corner, doors sliding open.
Grant jumped inside, Marcus diving in right behind him as the driver slammed on the gas, tires screaming against the wet pavement.
"Did you get it, boss?" Marcus panted, checking his vest for hits.
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Grant pulled out the dark leather notebook and the USB drive from his jacket, his eyes gleaming in the dark interior of the vehicle. "Scott didn't just record their crimes, Marcus. He documented everything. Names, bank accounts, dates... Richard Vance is finished."
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