Chapter 109 - The Manhattan Gambit
By nightfall, I was operating from a mobile tactical vessel anchored off the coast of Lake Michigan, connected to Marcus's encrypted satellite network.
On the main terminal, Dr. Vance’s live video confession was recording: he admitted under oath that Alexander Blackwood had paid him ten million dollars to identify a random crash victim as Alexander ten years ago.
"The confession is solid," Marcus said over the satellite link. "But Alexander is hosting a private victory summit tonight at the St. Regis in Manhattan with forty global hedge-fund managers. If they sign the merger contracts tonight, the liquidation becomes irreversible under international law."
"Then we crash the party," I said, my voice cold and unyielding.
Two hours later, under the cover of a stormy Manhattan night, I walked into the grand ballroom of the St. Regis Hotel.
I wore a breathtaking crimson silk gown with a dark velvet cape, my hair styled up, holding my head high despite being the most wanted woman in the country. The high-society crowd gasped as I stepped onto the marble floor.
Alexander, standing on the VIP riser with a champagne glass in hand, froze. His dark eyes flared with shock and raw fury.
"Victoria...?" Alexander stammered into his microphone. "Security! Arrest this woman!"
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"Touch me," I spoke clearly, my voice amplified by the wireless lapel mic I had hijacked from the AV booth, "and every investor in this room receives the live video confession of Dr. Harrison Vance detailing how Alexander Blackwood faked his death to steal sixty billion dollars."
The grand ballroom went dead silent. Dozens of billionaire investors looked back and forth between Alexander and the giant screens behind the stage.
