Chapter 11 - Panic Among the Elite
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Down in the main hallway, Cole and my three operatives held their fire, laser sights trained squarely on the six inches of Viktor Kael’s forehead visible behind Diana’s shoulder.
Just inside the armored kitchen vestibule thirty feet behind me, Rosa crouched behind the stainless-steel counter with three-year-old Lily tucked safely under her arm, covering the toddler’s ears so the loud noises wouldn't frighten her.
I stepped slowly out from behind the limestone pillar, unbuttoning my tuxedo jacket with calm, deliberate movements as I walked to the foot of the glass spiral staircase.
Above me on the landing, Diana was weeping hysterically, the four-carat diamond engagement ring on her left hand scratching against Kael’s forearm as she begged Julian not to shoot her.
"Julian, please, it’s me!" Diana sobbed, choking against Kael’s arm around her collar. "My father will give you everything left in the fund—don't let him kill me!"
"Shut up, you useless idiot," Julian snarled in her ear before glaring down the stairwell at me. "I mean it, Marcus! I spent thirty years building the infrastructure of Ellison Global for your father, only for him to hand the whole empire to a thirty-four-year-old kid on a silver platter! Type the rooftop hatch override into the wall pad right now!"
I stopped at the bottom step, resting one hand lightly on the brushed-steel banister as I looked up at the two men and my former fiancée.
"You really think I’m going to unlock that roof hatch to save Diana’s life after listening to her laugh about poisoning my champagne five minutes ago, Julian?" I asked evenly.
Both Julian and Diana froze on the stairs.
"What kind of leverage do you think you’re holding right now?" I continued, tilting my head slightly. "Ten minutes ago, that woman tried to murder me in front of sixty witnesses so she could loot thirty million dollars from my estate. If Viktor pulls that trigger right now, he saves the State of New York the cost of a six-month trial and saves my lawyers the paperwork of voiding her insurance bond."
"Marcus, no!" Diana screamed in horror, staring down at me as she realized the shield she thought she provided was worth zero to me. "Marcus, you wouldn't let them shoot me—tell them you’ll open the door!"
"Try me, Viktor," I said, looking straight past Diana into the Geneva mercenary’s cold eyes. "Pull the trigger. The instant you do, you lose your only cover on a glass staircase with four former Secret Service marksmen aimed at your chest, and neither of you ever reaches that roof door."
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Viktor Kael wasn't an emotional businessman like Julian Vance; he was a professional survivalist who knew math. Looking down at the four red laser dots hovering around his collarbone—and realizing I wouldn't flinch if Diana dropped—Kael’s finger eased off the trigger guard by a millimeter.
"The roof door is reinforced steel, Vance," Kael muttered grimly in Julian’s ear. "Without his thumbprint on the wall panel, we’re trapped in a glass tube. Take him as the hostage when he comes up to unlock it."
