Chapter 67 - The Black Citadel
We breached the central operations sphere on the third level. The air was pressurized and bone-chillingly cold, cooled by industrial fans to keep the humming mainframe towers from overheating.
Standing around the circular console were five figures in tailored suits, surrounded by eight private military contractors bristling with assault weapons. At the center of the console stood a man I recognized instantly from Sarah Sterling’s private files: Lord Henry Vance, the supreme arbiter of the Board.
"You have Arthur’s eyes," Vance said, his voice echoing through the server hum as our arrival halted their frantic keystrokes. His guards raised their rifles, but Marcus and I had already taken tactical cover behind the armored server pillars. "Cold. Obstinate. Incapable of seeing the grander horizon."
"Arthur died a terrified drunk on the floor of a prison transport," I called out from behind the steel casing. "Is that the horizon you had in mind?"
Vance chuckled dryly. "Arthur outlived his utility. Just as Sarah did. Just as your mother will within the hour. But you... you possess the Sterling genetic cryptographic signature. Without you, these servers will initiate an automatic burn at the noon bell. Sign the interface, Emily. Claim the Chairmanship. We will wipe your past clean. You can rule the shadows."
"You still think this is about power," I said, stepping out from behind the pillar, my rifle lowered, my hand resting on the detonator linked to the plastic charges Marcus had secured to the platform's primary diesel generators.
May you like
Vance’s aristocratic composure slipped. His eyes locked onto the flashing green LED in my palm. "Are you insane? If you detonate this platform, every financial record linking the global elite to the Sterling syndicate will be permanently erased! You will leave this world with nothing! No retribution, no wealth, no justice!"
"You think justice means taking your money," I said. "Justice means taking away your control."
