Chapter 13 - Shadows on the Horizon
Two months after the press conference, life in the penthouse had settled into a comfortable, quiet routine. Graham Pike had officially transitioned from contracted investigator to my permanent head of corporate security and intelligence, managing a trusted team of professionals who ensured my safety around the clock. Julian had taken an executive advisory seat on the board, helping me audit every single legacy asset from the 1990s.
It was a rainy Tuesday evening. I was sitting in my study, reading a newly published biography on corporate ethics, when my private secure comms device—a encrypted satellite phone Graham had insisted I carry everywhere—suddenly buzzed on the mahogany desk.
I picked it up and pressed the speaker button. “Go ahead, Graham.”
“Mrs. Calder,” Graham’s voice came through, unusually tense and clipped. “You need to look at the external security feed for the ground-floor service entrance immediately.”
I tapped my desktop monitor, switching the multi-camera feed to camera four—the alleyway loading dock behind our building. A sleek, matte-black sedan was idling near the dumpsters. Two figures stepped out, wearing heavy black raincoats with their hoods pulled low over their faces. One of them carried a heavy metallic cylinder that looked disturbingly familiar.
“What are they carrying?” I asked, my blood running cold as a long-forgotten memory flickered in my mind.
“It’s a localized EMP jamming device,” Graham replied tersely. “They’re preparing to knock out our internal power grid. And Mrs. Calder... that isn't connected to Arthur’s remaining loyalists. Facial recognition on the second figure just pinged against an Interpol red notice database.”
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“Whose face is it, Graham?”
“Viktor Rostov’s younger brother, Dmitri,” Graham said grimly. “He didn't come to finish Arthur’s job. He came to collect on a very old blood debt tied to Marcus Thorne’s family estate—an estate that wasn't legally settled the way Julian thought.”
