Chapter 17 - THE LUNCHEON TRAP
The following afternoon, the dining room hummed with the cheerful chatter of wealthy tourists and Wall Street executives.
Elena moved between the tables, carrying a silver tray laden with crystal water pitchers and artisanal appetizers.
Her light blue uniform shirt and navy blue skirt were immaculate, hiding the tactical ceramic plating strapped to her chest.
Two men in expensive charcoal grey suits sat near the corner window, their posture far too rigid for casual diners.
They didn't touch their menus, their eyes tracking Elena's every movement with calculating, predatory intensity.
In his private office upstairs, Marcus watched their thermal signatures on the multi-feed closed-circuit monitor array.
"They've spotted the bait," Marcus communicated quietly through the encrypted earpiece linked to Elena's left ear.
"Let them take a bite," Elena responded softly, balancing the silver tray as she approached their corner table.
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One of the men reached inside his jacket, his fingers brushing against the cold steel grip of a silenced pistol.
The entire dining room seemed to hold its breath as the trap sprang shut on the unsuspecting assassins.
