Chapter 9 - THE SWISS VAULTThe Gulfstream barely cleared the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Alps, flying completely dark to avoid Swiss radar. They touched down on a desolate, abandoned smuggler’s airstrip near the French border, the tires kicking up massive plumes of white powder.
A contact of Julian’s—an underworld fixer who owed him a massive debt—had left a modified, armored G-Wagon waiting for them in a frozen hangar.
"We don't go to the mountain yet," Julian said as he slid into the driver's seat, revving the massive engine. "Alexander needs capital to maintain his mercenary army. His shell company's primary vault is in a private bank in Zurich. We cut off the head of the snake first. Without money, his men have no loyalty."
They drove through the blizzard, arriving in Zurich under the cover of a whiteout snowstorm. The private bank was an impenetrable fortress of steel and concrete, catering to cartels, dictators, and the ultra-rich.
Julian didn't bother with the front door. He drove the armored G-Wagon straight through the reinforced glass lobby, shattering the serene silence of the bank with a deafening crash.
Security guards rushed out, MP5s raised, but Julian and Maria were already moving. Smoke grenades flooded the lobby, and within sixty seconds, every guard was disarmed and incapacitated on the floor. Julian marched up to the Bank Manager, a terrified Swiss man in a bespoke suit.
"Vault 770," Julian demanded, pressing the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple. "Open it."
The manager, weeping, complied, entering the biometric scans and cryptographic keys. The massive, circular steel door hissed and swung open.
Julian stepped inside, expecting to find bearer bonds, gold bullion, or encrypted ledgers. Instead, the vault was completely empty.
Except for a single, ringing landline phone sitting on a pedestal in the center.
Julian slowly picked it up.
"I knew you’d go for the money first, little brother," Alexander’s cultured, mocking voice echoed through the receiver. "Always the businessman. Never the father."
"Where is my son, Alexander?" Julian hissed.
"Oh, he’s safe. But you aren't. Look under the pedestal."
May you like
Julian kicked the pedestal over. Strapped to the bottom was a block of C4, a red digital timer counting down from 00:05.
"Maria, run!" Julian roared.
Related Stories
