Chapter 17 - The Trap Closes
"Where is the assurance that you'll leave us alone?" I demanded, keeping my distance, my hand resting firmly on the taser hidden inside my coat pocket. Julian chuckled, walking slowly in a wide circle around me, his slate-gray eyes scanning my posture like a predator evaluating wounded prey. "Assurance? In our line of work, Nora, assurance is a luxury for the naive. But I am a man of reasonable accommodations. Hand over the key, and my associates will permanently sever all ties to Elmhurst Lane. You can go back to your quiet little corporate career, sketching trees with your daughter, completely undisturbed." He held out his hand, palm upward, waiting expectantly. I stared at his outstretched hand, my mind calculating angles, wind speed, and distance. I knew as well as he did that a criminal syndicate dealing in human trafficking and financial extortion doesn't simply let witnesses walk away. The moment I handed over that key, we would become loose ends—permanent liabilities that needed to be erased. "I need to see the encryption drive first," I said firmly, standing my ground. "I'm not handing over the key to a ghost." Julian’s smile vanished, replaced by a sudden, hard glint of irritation. He lowered his hand and gestured toward the upper catwalk of the silo. "You really think you're in a position to negotiate terms, Nora?" From the shadows of the upper metal walkway, two bulky figures emerged, stepping heavily onto the rusted grating. One of them carried a heavy duffel bag; the other held a sleek, military-grade laptop wired to a satellite uplink. They began descending the rusted iron staircase, their heavy boots clanging against the metal steps like the tolling of a funeral bell. "You brought muscle," I noted, my voice ice-cold. "Naturally," Julian replied smoothly. "Did you really think I’d come alone to retrieve millions of dollars in encrypted illicit assets? Mark was an amateur, Nora, but you... you should have known better than to walk into a trap unarmed." I didn't flinch. Instead, I let out a slow, steady breath, my fingers wrapping tightly around the grip of the taser inside my coat pocket. "Who said I was unarmed?"
