Chapter 3 The 1920s Vault
706 Words
Vivian didn't hesitate grabbing James's arm again and pulling him backward. They jumped through the window just as Charles fired a bullet. The silenced bullet whizzed past James’s ear, embedding itself in the wall.
They fell hard onto the metal roof of the hospital’s emergency van below.
"Move!" Vivian hissed, scrambling and standing to her feet.
They both slid down the top of the van into a dark way. Arthur was waiting in a battered old car, fingers drumming driving against the steering wheel, the car seemed as tired as he was.
He slammed on the gas pedal the second the doors clicked shut after them. The car sped into the morning traffic, leaving the flashing red lights of the hospital behind.
James sank into the car's torn fabric seat. He was breathing hard.
"The old man is dead," he said, his voice flat. He felt a heavy weight in his chest. He didn't even know the billionaire, but watching him die felt wrong. It felt dirty, James said in pain.
Arthur gripped the steering wheel, feeling defected he said
"Then Charles has no obstacles left. By noon, he will control the Golden Group."
"Not yet," james said, turning to look at Vivian. She was staring at him, her eyes sharp and questioning. "He told me the seventy million isn't about money. It's about the password, 'Proxy.' He said the password is a key to opening a vault under the main terminal."
Vivian frowned. "The main train terminal? That’s public property. There are no private vaults there."
"There is one," Arthur interrupted, checking his rearview mirror.
"The old foundation from the 1920s. The Kingsley family bought the underground rights decades ago. But Charles knows about it too. If he doesn't find the money in the corporate accounts, that is exactly where he will go next."
Vivian leaned closer to James, the casual distance was gone.
"You still haven't told me who you are. You're a dead ringer for Edward, but you don't talk like him. You don't look at me like he does. He was a coward. You went back for me in the river."
James looked out the window at the blurred view of the city, his reactions were unstable.
"I'm just a guy who wanted to make a delivery and get paid. Now I'm a target." James said.
"We are all targets now," Vivian said softly.
She reached into her wet pocket and pulled out a small, encrypted keycard.
"This opens the old terminal access gates. My father helped design the security before he passed. If we go now, we beat Charles there."
They arrived at the back entrance of the bustling central station. The rush hour was starting. Hundreds of people walked past in business suits, completely unaware of the corporate war happening beneath their feet.
James, Vivian, and Arthur slipped through a maintenance door marked Authorized Personnel Only. They walked down a flight of concrete stairs, the air turning cold and damp. The sounds of the trains faded above them.
At the bottom of the stairs stood a massive, rusted steel door with a digital keypad.
Vivian swiped her keycard. The keypad beeped, turning green.
"This is it. Put the password in."
James stepped forward, fingers hovered over the dusty keys, and he typed in the letters: P R O X Y.
A heavy, mechanical click echoed through the dark corridor. The massive steel door groaned and swung open, revealing a small, modern room filled with glowing computer servers. In the center of the room sat a single, metal briefcase.
James walked over and lifted the lid. Inside wasn't cash. It was a stack of legal documents and a high-tech ledger containing the private keys to a massive cryptocurrency wallet. The missing seventy million dollars.
"We got it," James whispered.
"Yes, you did," a voice boomed from the darkness behind them.
James spun around. The uncle, Charles, stepped out from behind a row of servers. He wasn't alone. Two men stood beside him, holding the caregiver, Arthur, with a knife pressed to the old man's throat.
Charles smiled, his eyes completely hollow. "Thank you for doing the digging for me, boy. Now, drop the briefcase, or the old man dies right here."
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