Chapter 17 - The Trap in Zurich
Without hesitation, I mobilized our private security and legal teams. By Wednesday evening, a private jet bearing the Vanguard Holdings insignia touched down at Zurich Airport under the cover of a freezing Alpine drizzle.
Accompanied by Marcus Vance and four elite security operatives, I bypassed local bureaucratic delays through high-level diplomatic channels and arrived directly at the industrial warehouse facility on the outskirts of Zurich.
The metal loading bay doors were unlocked. We pushed them open, stepping into the cavernous, dimly lit warehouse.
Stacked neatly against the back wall were all fifty crates of our stolen medical supplies and children's winter garments. Standing beside the stacks, leaning casually against a wooden crate with a glass of scotch in his hand, was Heinrich Voss.
"Welcome to Zurich, Mrs. Mercer," Heinrich sneered, raising his glass in mock salute as we approached. "I must say, you travel faster than the international postal service."
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I stopped ten feet away from him, my voice cutting through the cold warehouse air like liquid nitrogen. "You stole cargo meant for sick children just to lure me across an ocean, Heinrich? That isn't corporate warfare. That is the desperate act of a cornered rat."
Heinrich chuckled darkly, setting his glass down on a crate. "Call it whatever you like, Elena. In our world, power doesn't belong to those who sew clothes; it belongs to those who control the supply lines. And right now, your humanitarian reputation—and your daughter's philanthropic legacy—are completely at my mercy."
