Chapter 47 - Inside the Gilded Cage
The grand hall of St. Jude’s was an exercise in vulgar, ancient power. Massive crystal chandeliers cast warm light over marble pillars, beneath which twenty-four of the world's most corrupt financial titans and shadow syndicate barons mingled over vintage champagne, oblivious to the fact that their empire was teetering on a knife's edge.
Emma and Eleanor passed through the secondary security checkpoint using diplomatic tokens stolen from Thorne’s vault. The facial-recognition scanners flashed green; Thorne’s clearance codes had not yet been formally scrubbed by Evelyn, who assumed her victims were buried under tons of Scottish bedrock.
From a secluded alcove on the mezzanine, Emma looked down upon the gathering.
Standing on the raised dais at the far end of the room was Evelyn.
She looked entirely transformed. Gone was the dowdy, complaining woman who had berated Emma over household chores. Evelyn wore an impeccably tailored diamond-encrusted gown, her graying hair swept into an elaborate aristocratic updo. She held a crystal flute in one hand, laughing cordially with an Italian shipping magnate as if she had occupied this throne her entire life.
"Look at her," Emma murmured into her concealed collar microphone. "She doesn't even feel remorse."
"Narcissists never feel remorse, Emma; they only feel ownership," Daniel’s voice crackled through the ear-piece from his vantage point on the roof across the street. "I have visual on the terminal relay behind the dais. The uplink dish on the roof is spinning up. She plans to execute the sovereign transfer at precisely eight o'clock."
"That gives us seven minutes," Eleanor whispered. "Emma, the moment you step into that light, there is no retreating. They will either kneel to the Laurent bloodline or order their men to butcher us on this floor."
May you like
Emma smoothed the front of her jacket, feeling the cold steel against her ribs. "Let them try."
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