Chapter 11 - The Scent of Lavender-11
I listened to his threats without moving a single muscle in my face. I didn't flinch, I didn't blink, and my heart rate didn't elevate by a single beat.
Slowly, deliberately, I allowed a small, calm smile to stretch across my face—a smile that made the remaining color drain instantly from Mark's gaunt cheeks.
"They aren't coming for me, Mark," I said softly into the phone receiver.
Mark’s brow furrowed in deep, sudden confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Before I executed the primary database sweep at the Blackwood Annex," I explained, my voice dropping into a harsh, freezing whisper that blurred the glass partition, "I didn't just hand the transaction files to the FBI. I executed a secondary, permanent escrow diversion protocol. I returned the entire $140 million directly to the syndicate's master operating accounts in Zurich."
Mark stared at me, his mouth opening and closing silently like a landed fish.
"But I didn't just send back their capital, Mark," I continued ruthlessly, my eyes burning into his shattered soul. "I attached a complete, un-redacted digital dossier of your personal banking records, your private messages to Eleanor plotting to cut the European handlers out of their thirty-percent logistics fee, and the explicit proof that you were the one who brought the federal task force down on their network to save your own skin."
Mark’s face went entirely, paper-white translucent, his jaw trembling violently as the absolute, terrifying horror of his true situation unmasked itself inside his mind.
"The syndicate doesn't blame me for the bust, Mark," I whispered softly. "The syndicate blames you. They know you got greedy. They know you tried to steal their pipeline. And they know exactly which federal facility you're being transferred to next week. Enjoy your thirty-five years, Mark. You’re going to be spending them with very, very attentive roommates."
May you like
I hung up the plastic receiver, set it back on its cradle, and stood up from the stool.
Behind the glass, Mark began screaming frantically, slamming his chained fists against the ballistic partition in a state of absolute, hysterical panic as two armed federal marshals grabbed his arms and dragged his thrashing body away into the dark corridors of the prison.
