The Tenth Explosion

Chapter 9: I entered the lion den

James hated mornings when the news knew his name before he even stepped out of bed. The television mounted across his bedroom wall glowed with aggressive red banners and dramatic music, the kind news channels used when they wanted people to panic before breakfast. He stood in front of the mirror adjusting the cuffs of his charcoal suit, expensive enough to buy somebody’s house twice over, while the broadcaster spoke with the excitement of someone who had finally found blood in the water.

“BREAKING NEWS: COVALEN BOARD DIRECTOR REVEALED AS LEADER OF SUN THUNDER GANG.”

James stopped moving. For a second, he just stared at the reflection of himself. Then he looked slowly toward the television like the screen had personally insulted him.

“What nonsense is this?”

The female broadcaster continued. “Mr Jackie, one of the board members of multinational giant Covalen, has reportedly been arrested by federal authorities after years of investigation into the notorious Sun Thunder gang—”

James snatched the remote from the table and muted the television instantly. The silence annoyed him even more. He rubbed his jaw hard.

“Why are these people like this?” he muttered under his breath. “Why must they drag my company into it?” He threw the remote onto the bed. “They could have said businessman arrested. Crime leader arrested. Anything. But no. They had to mention Covalen.” His voice grew sharper. “A multibillion-dollar company. Forty floors. Thousands of workers. International contracts. Investors from three continents. And now the headline makes it sound like we’re running a criminal headquarters.”

He exhaled heavily through his nose. That was the problem with the media. Once they found a connection, they squeezed it until it bled. Didn’t matter whether the company knew anything about Jackie’s secret life. Didn’t matter that Covalen had entire divisions handling energy, biotech, engineering, logistics, finance. One board member gets arrested and suddenly every camera in the country acts like the building itself manufactures gangsters in the basement.

James grabbed his wristwatch from the dresser and fastened it tightly. The irritation stayed on his face. Honestly, he looked like a man already tired of the day before it had properly begun.

Outside his penthouse, the city was waking up. Horns. Sirens somewhere in the distance. The low roar of traffic. New York always sounded like a machine with too many moving parts. His driver opened the rear door of the black luxury sedan the moment James stepped outside.

“Good morning, sir.”

James barely nodded. “Drive.”

The car pulled smoothly into traffic. Inside, the silence was thick at first. James leaned back against the leather seat, staring out the window while buildings slid past like grey giants. Then his phone started vibrating. One call after another. Board members. Investors. Journalists. Unknown numbers. He ignored every single one. Right now, he didn’t trust himself to speak politely.

The driver glanced at him through the mirror once, carefully. “Tough morning, sir?”

James laughed once, dry and humorless. “You saw the news?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you already know.”

The driver nodded slowly and kept quiet after that. Smart man.

The sedan moved deeper into the city, past crowded intersections and towering buildings. Eventually the traffic began thinning near the restricted industrial district. Then James saw it. The City Sermon Lab.

Even from a distance, the place looked wrong. Huge. Silent. Dead. The lab stretched across an enormous secured compound wrapped in steel fencing and layers of military-grade barriers. Warning signs covered almost every visible surface.

HAZARDOUS ZONE.

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

NO ENTRY.

FEDERAL RESTRICTION ACT.

The entire place looked like a giant scar sitting in the middle of civilization.

“Stop the car.”

The driver slowed immediately. The sedan came to a halt near the roadside. James stared out the window quietly. His anger from the news faded little by little, replaced by something heavier. The lab stood there like a graveyard pretending to be a building. Abandoned. Locked up. Guarded. Yet somehow still terrifying. You know the kind of place people drive past faster without realizing they’re doing it? That was the City Sermon Lab.

James opened the car door and stepped outside. Cold morning air brushed against his face. He stood there staring at the massive structure. Memories started arriving one after another whether he wanted them or not. That was the cruel thing about grief. It didn’t knock. It just entered.

He remembered the first explosion years ago. People screaming through smoke. Sirens everywhere. News helicopters circling above the city. Then another explosion years later. Then another. Every single time the government promised answers. Every single time more bodies came out. Friends. Business partners. Neighbors. People he knew. People he laughed with. People who had plans for next week that never arrived.

Then his thoughts stopped at one person. Melony.

Even thinking her name still hurt in a very physical way. Not dramatic movie pain. Real pain. The kind that sits somewhere behind your ribs. James swallowed slowly. She had died during one of the lab disasters while he was out of the city handling business. He never got to say goodbye. That part haunted him most. No final conversation. No last touch. Nothing. One minute she existed in his life like sunlight. Then suddenly she was gone because some cursed laboratory exploded again.

He remembered the news. He remembered getting the call. He remembered dropping the phone. He remembered not breathing properly for almost an entire minute.

Funny thing about loss—people think the hardest part is the crying. It isn’t. The hardest part is afterward. The ordinary moments. Seeing something funny and remembering you can’t send it to them anymore. Reaching for your phone before remembering they’re dead. Walking into an empty apartment and hearing silence instead of their voice.

James stared at the lab with cold eyes. “For ten years,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Ten years this place has kept killing people.”

The driver remained respectfully silent.

James shook his head once. “And they still couldn’t destroy it.”

The irony irritated him deeply. The public hated the lab more than they feared criminals now. That was why Jackie’s attempted bombing barely shocked anyone. Some people secretly wished the place had been erased completely. James understood the anger. Part of him even shared it.

He finally got back into the car. “Drive.”

The sedan moved again. As they approached downtown, James could already see the problem waiting ahead. News vans. Satellite trucks. Crowds. Cameras.

“Wonderful,” he muttered.

The forty-storey Covalen headquarters towered above the street like a monument to money itself. Glass walls reflected the morning sunlight sharply enough to hurt the eyes. Usually the sight made James proud. Today it looked like a target.

The moment the car approached the entrance, reporters surged forward aggressively. Microphones lifted. Cameras zoomed in. Security struggled to hold them back.

“Mr James!”

“Sir, is it true you knew about Jackie’s criminal activities?”

“How many Sun Thunder members work inside Covalen?”

“Are you affiliated with the gang?”

“Did the company help fund illegal operations?”

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

James stepped out of the car already regretting his decision to come to work. Inside his head, one thought repeated itself. I should have stayed at home. Seriously, who sent me to work today?

Outwardly, though, he remained composed. Years of running a corporate empire taught him how to wear calm like armor. He adjusted his suit jacket slightly before facing the cameras.

“I will say this once,” he said firmly. “Covalen is a legal corporation with thousands of employees worldwide. Mr Jackie’s alleged activities are his personal responsibility, not the company’s.”

Questions kept flying toward him like bullets.

“Are there more gang members in the company?”

“Did Jackie use company resources?”

“Are you under investigation too?”

James forced a thin smile that barely qualified as polite. “If federal authorities have concerns regarding Covalen, they know where to find us.”

Then he walked straight through the entrance with security surrounding him tightly.

The lobby inside was massive and elegant, polished marble floors reflecting the overhead lights. Employees pretended not to stare as James crossed toward the executive elevators, but everybody was obviously talking about the news. Phones buzzed everywhere. Whispers moved across the building like electricity.

By the time the elevator doors closed behind him, James finally exhaled properly. His reflection stared back at him from the mirrored walls.

“You’re having an amazing day,” he muttered sarcastically.

The elevator climbed rapidly toward the executive floor. When the doors opened, armed company guards immediately fell into step beside him. James walked down the long hallway toward his office. Massive double doors. Fingerprint security. Private access.

The office itself was enormous. Bigger than some apartments. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked half the city. Shelves lined with awards and international contracts stretched across one wall. A private lounge area occupied another section entirely. The kind of office designed to remind people exactly how much power sat inside it.

James entered alone while the guards remained outside. The doors shut softly behind him. Finally. Peace. Or so he thought.

He loosened his tie slightly and walked toward the mini-bar section near his desk. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and twisted the cap open. The cold water hit his throat perfectly. For the first time that morning, his shoulders relaxed a little.

Then a voice spoke behind him. “Don’t scream.”

James froze instantly. His heart slammed against his ribs so hard it almost hurt. Slowly, he turned around.

Seven men emerged from different parts of the office. One from beside the bookshelf. Two from behind the lounge section. Another near the curtains. Huge men. Armed men. The kind built like they lifted trucks recreationally. Every single one held a weapon.

James’ blood turned cold so fast it almost felt physical. There’s a particular fear people experience when danger appears where safety is supposed to exist. It shakes you differently. Like finding a shark in your swimming pool. His office was supposed to be the safest room in the building. Yet here they were.

One of the men stepped closer. “Relax, Mr James.”

James opened his mouth instinctively, but another gun lifted immediately.

“Don’t.” The warning carried no emotion. Just certainty.

James slowly raised his hands halfway. His mind raced violently. How did they get in here? How long were they hiding? Did security know? Were his guards outside dead already?

The man noticed James glancing toward the door. “Soundproof office,” he said casually. “You can scream all day. Nobody hears a thing.”

James swallowed hard. His breathing became shallow. For the first time in years, he genuinely felt powerless. One wrong move and this luxurious office would become his grave.

The leader among them sat casually on James’ expensive leather couch like he owned the place. “We just want a conversation.”

James stared at him carefully. The man’s face looked familiar in a dangerous way. Not celebrity familiar. More like the kind of face you see briefly in crime photos before quickly turning the page.

“Who are you?” James asked quietly.

The man smiled faintly. “Friends of Jackie.”

There it was. Of course. The room suddenly felt even colder.

“You people are making a mistake,” James said carefully.

“No,” the man replied calmly. “The government made a mistake.”

Before James could respond—

Knock knock.

Everybody froze. The tension shifted instantly. One of the gunmen cursed quietly. Another aimed toward the door immediately.

The leader narrowed his eyes at James. “Are you expecting somebody?”

At that moment James understood something terrifying. Even if he wasn’t expecting anyone, saying no could get whoever stood outside killed immediately. His throat felt dry.

Before he answered, a female voice came through the door. “Sir? Please, it’s me. Kate.”

James blinked.

The voice continued nervously. “The lady whose umbrella you were under two days ago.”

Then he remembered. Rain. Crowded street. A young employee sharing her umbrella with him after his car got stuck behind traffic. Kate. New worker. Bright eyes. Confident mouth. Too bold for someone that new inside Covalen.

Inside the office, the gunmen exchanged looks.

The leader spoke softly. “Tell her to leave.”

James hesitated.

Outside, Kate waited anxiously. Earlier that morning, she had practically argued with herself for twenty minutes before coming upstairs. Her supervisor had stolen credit for her work again. One whole month inside the company and she was already tired of office politics. She had done the presentations. Handled the data. Fixed the contract errors. Yet somehow her supervisor walked into meetings acting like a genius while she sat quietly in the corner.

That kind of thing burns slowly. Like a mosquito you can’t kill. At first Kate told herself to stay patient. Then she got angry instead. No. Forget patience. If nobody would speak for her, she would speak for herself.

So she made the reckless decision to come directly to the CEO’s office. Not email. Not appointment. Straight to the top. Honestly, most employees would never dare try something like that. But Kate had reached that dangerous point where frustration becomes courage. She adjusted her blouse nervously outside the office door.

“Sir?” she called again.

Inside, James could practically hear his own heartbeat. The gunmen watched him carefully. Then suddenly the leader smiled slightly.

“Let her in.”

James looked at him sharply. “What?”

“Open the door.”

One of the men moved behind the wall beside the entrance, weapon ready. James’ stomach tightened. This could go very badly. He walked slowly toward the door and unlocked it.

The moment it opened, Kate stepped inside carrying a folder against her chest. “Sir, I know this is sudden but I really needed to—”

She stopped. Her eyes widened instantly. The folder slipped from her hands. Papers scattered across the floor.

Seven armed men. Guns. James pale as death. The atmosphere inside the office hit her like walking into freezing water. One of the gunmen shut the door immediately behind her. Kate’s face lost color.

For about three full seconds nobody moved. Then her survival instincts finally caught up. She inhaled sharply to scream—

A gun pointed directly at her forehead.

“Don’t.” The word cut through the room like a knife.

Kate froze completely. You know that feeling when your body realizes danger before your brain fully processes it? Her entire nervous system locked up. Her eyes darted toward James. He looked equally trapped.

The leader stood slowly from the couch and walked toward her with calm steps. Kate’s breathing became shaky. The man crouched slightly, picking up one of the papers she dropped. He glanced over it briefly.

“Smart girl,” he said casually.

Kate said nothing. Couldn’t.

The man smiled faintly. “Relax. Nobody wants to kill you.”

Nobody in that room believed him. Including his own men.

James finally spoke carefully. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“I know,” the man replied.

Kate slowly looked at James again. Her mind raced violently. What was happening? Who were these men? Why was the CEO standing there looking like somebody held his soul hostage?

The leader turned toward James again. “Now we have a small complication.”

James clenched his jaw. “What do you want from me?”

The man’s smile disappeared completely. “Jackie got arrested this yesterday.”

“I saw the news.”

“We know.” The gunman stepped closer. “And we know the government couldn’t touch him for eight years.”

James stayed silent.

“So somebody betrayed him.”

The room became dangerously quiet. Then the man leaned slightly toward James.

“We’re trying to figure out who.”