Chapter 5 - The Red Star Syndicate
The decision was made at midnight. Damon refused to sit back and wait for Volkov to send another sniper. He ordered a strike on Volkov’s primary laundering hub—a high-end underground casino operating beneath an art gallery in the heart of the financial district.
"You're staying here," Damon told Ivy as he checked the magazine of his suppressed pistol in the main armory.
"No," Ivy said, stepping into the armory wearing a fitted black tactical turtleneck and dark pants. "Volkov’s managers speak a coded dialect of Russian underworld slang—Blatnoy. You won't know which ledger is real and which one is a trap unless I'm there to read the documents."
Damon stopped, turning to look at her. His eyes swept over her fitted clothes, taking in the confident, dangerous posture she no longer bothered to hide.
"You're a persistent woman, Ivy Marlowe," he murmured, stepping close and handing her a compact 9mm sidearm. "Can you use this?"
Ivy racked the slide with practiced, effortless efficiency, safety on, chambered, ready. "Better than your enforcers."
Damon’s eyes darkened with approval. "Then don't leave my side."
An hour later, three blacked-out SUVs pulled into the alley behind the gallery. Rocco and six heavily armed men swept through the rear entrance, taking out the security guards with silent precision.
Damon and Ivy moved through the opulent casino floor. Panicked gamblers were pushed out the exit doors as Damon’s team secured the perimeter.
They reached the inner vault. On the desk lay three encrypted hard drives and a series of bound paper ledgers detailing Volkov’s international accounts.
Ivy immediately sat at the desk, flipping through the pages under the harsh light of a desk lamp. "This one is fake," she said, tossing a leather ledger aside. "It's designed to trigger an automated lock-out if entered into a terminal. Here—this is the real ledger. It's written in Fenya cipher."
She began translating rapidly, pointing out account numbers and shipment coordinates. "He's arriving in the city tomorrow night. A container ship at Dock 44. He's bringing in enough heavy weaponry to start a full-scale war."
Suddenly, the steel doors of the vault slammed shut automatically. A heavy metallic click echoed through the room.
"Trap!" Rocco yelled, slamming his shoulder against the door. "The system is locked!"
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A voice crackled over the intercom speaker in the corner of the ceiling. It was cold, raspy, and heavily accented.
"Ah, Mr. Cole," the voice rasped in Russian. "And the little maid who thinks she can play with kings."
