Chapter 19 - The Ghost of the Past
Julian stopped dead in his tracks.
The silence in the bunker became suffocating, drowned out only by the distant hum of the emergency generator.
"What did you just say?" Julian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Victoria took perverse pleasure in the change in his expression.
She smoothed the front of her silk blouse, regaining an eerie, aristocratic poise despite being cornered underground.
"Arthur was weak, just like you," Victoria said smoothly, stepping toward the safe. "He wanted to take the company public. He wanted independent audits. He wanted transparency."
Julian felt a heavy, nauseating weight drop into his stomach.
"He discovered what I was moving through the offshore shell accounts in the Caymans," Victoria continued, watching Julian’s eyes. "He was going to the Department of Justice on a Monday morning."
"You poisoned him," Julian said, the horrifying realization hitting him like a physical blow.
"Digitalis in his evening scotch," Victoria whispered, without a shred of remorse. "The coroner was on our payroll. An unexpected myocardial infarction at age fifty-two. Clean. Untraceable. Perfect."
Julian’s hand shook for a fraction of a second, hot tears of rage stinging the corners of his eyes.
"He loved you," Julian said, fighting to keep his voice from breaking.
"Love is a currency for fools, Julian," Victoria snapped back. "I used it to build an empire. And I won't let you or that common waitress you married tear it down!"
With sudden, desperate speed, Victoria lunged toward the vault door, yanking a heavy lever down.
A loud mechanical clunk echoed through the chamber as a heavy steel security shutter began descending from the ceiling between them.
Julian surged forward, but the thick hydraulic barrier slammed into the floor with tremendous force, locking him out of the vault entrance.
Through the reinforced ballistic glass panel in the center of the door, Victoria stared at him with venomous amusement.
"The sea tunnel connects directly from this vault to the boat slip," Victoria’s voice came through the intercom speaker on the wall. "By the time your federal friends cut through eight inches of hardened steel, I’ll be twenty miles out in international waters."
She picked up a black waterproof duffel bag stuffed with bearer documents and passports from the floor.
"Goodbye, Julian," she sneered through the speaker. "Give my love to little Maya."
Julian didn't panic.
Instead, a cold, ruthless calm settled over his features.
He looked directly into Victoria’s arrogant eyes through the glass.
"You forgot one thing about this estate, Victoria," Julian said quietly into the wall microphone.
May you like
Victoria paused at the threshold of the dark tunnel, glancing back with a frown.
"I redesigned the security architecture three years ago," Julian stated calmly. "Grandfather's keys don't control the marine locks anymore. I do."
