Chapter 7 - The Digital Shadow-7
The Boeing C-37A military transport jet roared across the Atlantic at forty-thousand feet, its dark gray fuselage slicing through the dawn clouds over the North Sea.
Inside the operational command cabin, I sat beside Arthur and Agent Harris, wrapped in a dark wool coat, reviewing the live digital tracking feeds rendered on the main tactical displays.
Harrison had no idea the trap had sprung.
According to the live satellite telemetry provided by British law enforcement, Harrison was currently sitting in a private conference suite at the US Embassy in London, attempting to finalize the registration of Noraline Holdings UK using his secondary corporate credentials.
Meanwhile, Tyler was being chaperoned at the Connaught Hotel by Harrison’s chief private security officer, a dangerous, broad-shouldered ex-operative named Viktor Vance (no relation to Harrison, but a long-time family enforcer).
"We have two tactical teams from Metropolitan Police Special Branch stationed outside the Connaught," Agent Harris reported, gesturing to the real-time map on her screen. "The moment our transport touches down at RAF Northolt, Unit Alpha will secure the hotel suite and isolate Viktor Vance before he realizes Harrison’s accounts have been seized."
"And Harrison?" I asked, my fingers tracing the outline of the black composite card resting on the table in front of me.
"Unit Bravo will execute the extra-jurisdictional warrant inside the Embassy annex the moment he attempts to execute his primary wire transfer," Harris replied.
"He’s going to use the master token at 11:00 AM London time," I said softly, looking at my watch. The time was currently 10:14 AM. "That’s when the Zurich clearing window opens."
"And when he swipes that token," Arthur smiled grimly, "he won't clear his $180 million acquisition. He will execute an automatic, self-destructing data lock that Tyler built into the mirror script. Every single file, every hidden bank account, and every forged signature will be broadcast simultaneously to the Department of Justice, the Internal Revenue Service, and the Securities and Exchange Commission."
I turned my head to look out the small oval window of the jet.
Beneath the wing, the green, rain-slicked fields of the English countryside were emerging through the broken cloud deck.
For thirteen years, Harrison had believed he owned the world. He believed that money could buy any judge, silence any witness, and crush any woman who dared to stand in his way. He had treated his son like a trophy to be won, and treated me like an obstacle to be erased.
He had completely forgotten that the boy he tried to mold into his own image had spent his entire life watching his mother fight for him.
"Twenty minutes to landing, Madam Secretary," the pilot’s voice chimed through the cabin intercom.
May you like
I unclasped my seatbelt, stood up, and pulled my coat tight.
"Let's go get my son," I said.
