Chapter 28 - The Oligarch's Gambit
"You have five seconds to leave this floor before my security detail puts five rounds through your chest," Julian said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper, the pistol in his hand now fully drawn and aimed dead center at Volkov’s forehead.
Volkov chuckled softly, pulling an exquisite silver cigarette case from his coat pocket. He glanced at the non-smoking sign on the wall, smirked, and clicked the case shut without taking one.
"Shoot me, Julian, and the drone strikes on your automated shipping barges in the North Sea begin in ten minutes," Volkov said calmly. "Kill me, and Elise’s private jet—the one carrying her loyal assistant's younger sister back from college—disappears over Lake Michigan."
Maya let out a muffled gasp from behind her console, her face draining of all color.
I stepped out from behind Julian’s shoulder, placing my hand gently over his gun arm, pressing it down. Julian looked at me, his eyes blazing with protective fury, but he relented, lowering the muzzle an inch.
"What do you want, Volkov?" I asked, keeping my voice cold, steady, and utterly devoid of fear.
"Your father was a genius, Elise," Volkov said, stepping forward until he was only six feet away, his cold eyes appraising me like a prize thoroughbred. "He understood that modern warfare is not fought with missiles, but with logistics. The master key to his system allows complete bypassing of international naval embargoes. I need that key."
"You killed my father," I stated flatly.
"No," Volkov countered, shaking his head. "Arthur was foolish. He tried to cancel our partnership when he realized what my clients intended to move through his networks. Jonathan Vance was greedy. He offered to fix the problem for a price. Your father’s car crash was Jonathan’s clumsy improvisation. I prefer clean transactions. I did not want Arthur dead; I wanted him compliant."
"And you think I will be compliant?" I sneered.
"I think you are a pragmatist," Volkov smiled, gesturing to his aide, who placed a sleek carbon-fiber briefcase onto the glass conference table. The aide snapped open the latches, pivoting the case toward us.
Inside lay two documents: one was an acquisition contract for sixty percent of Vance-Sterling logistics; the other was a legal transfer deed for an offshore trust in the Cayman Islands containing ten billion dollars in gold-backed sovereign bonds.
"Sign the source code over to Volkov International," the oligarch said softly. "You keep your company’s commercial brand. You become the richest woman on earth. Julian’s empire remains intact. And no more of your family members have tragic accidents."
"And if I refuse?"
Volkov’s smile vanished, his face hardening into an expression of unadulterated cruelty.
"If you refuse, Elise, I will dismantle your world piece by piece. I will destroy Vance Global. I will bankrupt your foundation. And when you have nothing left—when you are back in that cheap Chicago apartment where Julian found you—I will take the source code from your cold, dead fingers anyway."
May you like
Volkov tapped the face of his platinum watch. "You have until the midnight gala of the Chicago Symphony tomorrow night. Deliver the encryption drive to me there. If you do not... the city will burn."
With a mocking bow, Volkov turned on his heel and strode back into the elevator, his bodyguards flanking him, leaving the heavy scent of expensive tobacco and impending war hanging in the sterilized air.
