Chapter 8 - The Abduction Attempt
By noon, Anna and Lily were safe within the executive suite of Hayes Tower, sixty floors above the chaos of the Seattle streets.
Lily sat on the plush leather couch in my personal office, clutching Copper, quietly coloring a picture of a sailboat. She was frightened by the flashing cameras she had seen through the townhouse window, but as long as I was in the room, her small shoulders remained relaxed.
Anna stood by the panoramic glass window, staring down at the city, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"We have to go to court tomorrow," she said, turning to look at me. "Judge Whitmore ordered an in-person emergency evaluation. If we don't show up, Harrison wins by default."
"We will show up," I told her, walking over and placing my hands on her shoulders. "And we will win."
Before Anna could answer, the heavy double doors of my office burst open.
Marcus Ramos stood in the doorway, his radio crackling with static, his weapon unholstered at his hip. "Ethan! We have a code red on the private parking garage."
I stepped in front of Anna instantly. "What happened?"
"A courier delivery van just rammed through the security gate on the subterranean executive level," Marcus said rapidly. "Four armed men in tactical gear. They didn't come to steal files, Ethan. They breached the private elevator shaft using cloned Hayes security fobs. They know this floor is on private lockdown!"
"Harrison Vance didn't come to win in court," Eleanor gasped, standing up from the conference table. "He knows he can't win a fair trial once Anna's evidence is presented! He’s snatching Lily before the hearing and flying her out on a private jet to a non-extradition country!"
The building's emergency alarms suddenly shrieked into life. The lights in the office flickered, replaced by the amber glow of emergency backup power.
"Elevator indicator shows a car rising to floor sixty," Marcus barked into his shoulder mic. "All available security units, converge on the executive lobby! Non-lethal rules of engagement are suspended!"
"Anna, take Lily into the panic room behind my bookshelf," I ordered, moving toward the desk.
"No!" Lily cried, running across the carpet and throwing her arms around my waist. "Ethan, don't let them take me! Please!"
"Nobody is taking you, Lily," I promised, lifting her up and handing her to Anna. "Anna, go! Lock the vault from the inside. It’s reinforced steel. It can withstand an explosive charge."
Anna’s eyes were filled with terror, but she nodded, kissing my cheek with desperate fervor. "Come back to us," she whispered, and darted into the concealed room, pulling the heavy steel door shut until it sealed with a pressurized hiss.
The elevator bell chimed outside in the executive foyer.
The reinforced glass doors of my office shattered inward as two flashbang grenades rolled across the hardwood floor.
*BANG!*
A blinding white light and deafening blast tore through the room.
Through the smoke, two men in black balaclavas and tactical vests burst through the doorway, submachine guns raised. Marcus fired twice from behind a marble pillar, dropping the first operative instantly.
The second operative swung his weapon toward Marcus, but I charged forward before he could pull the trigger.
I slammed my entire body into him, driving him back through the shattered glass into the foyer. His weapon went flying across the marble floor. He threw a vicious right hook that caught my jaw, splitting my lip, but the pain only fueled the absolute fury surging through my veins.
I grabbed his tactical vest, drove my knee into his ribs, and spun him around, slamming his face into the brass edge of the elevator frame. He collapsed limp onto the floor.
Footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Two more men emerged—and behind them stood Harrison Vance himself.
The seventy-year-old patriarch was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his face twisted into a mask of cold, aristocratic arrogance. In his right hand, he held a silenced pistol.
"Mr. Hayes," Harrison Vance said, stepping over the shattered glass with chilling nonchalance. "I must commend your security. But this charade ends today. Hand over the girl. My jet is waiting at Boeing Field."
"The only place you’re flying today, Harrison," I said, wiping blood from my split lip with the back of my hand, "is a federal penitentiary."
"You naive boy," Harrison sneered, raising the pistol directly at my chest. "Do you think the Vance family can be touched by a retailer from Seattle? I bought the port of Los Angeles. I bought the judges who sit on your state supreme court. Once Lily is across the border, no court on earth will ever bring her back. Stand aside, or I will end you right here and claim self-defense."
Harrison thumbed the hammer back on his weapon.
"Drop it, Harrison."
A commanding, authoritative voice echoed from the stairwell behind him.
Through the heavy fire doors marched eight federal agents dressed in blue FBI tactical jackets, led by none other than the Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Seattle Field Office. Behind them stood Eleanor Vance-Cross, holding her phone aloft, live-streaming the entire encounter to a secure federal server.
"Harrison Vance," the lead agent barked, weapons trained on the old man's chest. "Federal agents! Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head! We have a warrant for your arrest on federal charges of treasonous port smuggling, conspiracy to commit interstate kidnapping, and murder-for-hire!"
Harrison Vance froze. His arrogant sneer shattered, replaced by the staggering realization that he had walked directly into a trap.
Eleanor stepped forward, her smile as cold as a winter glacier.
"Did you really think I didn't know about the off-shore accounts you used to bribe port inspectors, Uncle Harrison?" Eleanor said with venomous triumph. "Ethan's forensic accountants uncovered fifteen years of your money-laundering operations in six hours. We fed the location of your mercenaries to the FBI ninety minutes ago. You’re finished."
Harrison Vance’s fingers went slack. The silenced pistol clattered onto the marble floor.
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The federal agents swarmed him, kicking the gun away and forcing the multi-billionaire face-down into the shattered glass, pulling his arms behind his back with the sharp, merciless click of federal steel.
***
