Chapter 44

Chapter Forty-Four

The ride over to the estate of Henry Devereaux seemed to take forever. The sky above had gone dark. The only light that cut through on the roadway was the occasional flare thrown by headlights of passing cars. Sitting in the seat next to the driver is Fiona, lost in thought; thinking about the plan they had pieced together for execution this night for the better part of the last couple of days. She looked at Julian, who was driving impressively intently, out of the corner of her eye.

Emma was in the backseat, looking back over their gear one more time. She had found Devereaux, and now she was going to take him down with the others. They had all been through enough to know that whatever went down that night, they would go in there together.

They finally reached the turnoff that lead to the estate. The drive was narrow, and trees seemed to ooze from the air on all sides of it. The woods grew closer, tighter, and seemed to swallow all light. Fiona's heart pounded in her chest as they came closer to the gate. Julian stopped the car at a safe distance, and they all got out and moved quickly and quietly.

"We're going in the dark," Julian whispered, handing out night vision goggles. "No lights, no sound. We need to be ghosts until we're inside."

In response, Fiona just nodded, setting her gear and night lenses. She felt the same adrenaline surge rattle through her veins like a runner, sharpening senses on high alert. They weren't going to make any mistakes tonight.

They moved single file through the trees, keeping low to the ground. As they got closer to the estate, Fiona could make out guards patrolling the perimeter, their flashlights slashes of light in the darkness. Julian signaled for them to stop, and they crouched behind a cluster of bushes, watching the guards' movements.

"There are three guards on the east side," Julian whispered. "We'll need to take them out quietly. Emma, you're up.

Emma nodded and pulled a silenced pistol before she vanished into the trees to get close enough to the guards. Fiona watched as Emma raised her hand, which was still steady, and took three quick shots. Every guard went down without so much as a sound.

"Clear," Emma whispered through her earpiece to everyone else, and they moved in.

They reached the outskirts of the estate and sneaked behind a tall stone wall that surrounded it. Julian unholstered a small device from his pocket and began to shut down the security system. Fiona's heart raced as the lights along the top of the wall began to flicker and extinguish.

"We're in," Julian whispered.

They pulled up one by one and dropped over the wall into the courtyard. The estate loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the face of the night sky. Fiona could see lights in some of the windows, and she knew Devereaux was inside, waiting.

"Let's move," she whispered and led the way.

They traversed the courtyard remaining in the shadows. Given the front door had to be full of sentries, Emma had marked a side door as the estate's one weakness. Julian picked the lock in a few, quick seconds, and they were in.

As luxurious as the interior of the estate was, it seemed as cold as the outside. Marble floors, high ceilings, expensive artwork seemed to be all that decorated the place. There was no warmth, no showing of life inhabiting the place. As they moved through the hallways, Fiona felt a chill; their polished floors muffled the sounds of their shoes.

At the end of the hallway, they reached a set of double doors. Julian held up his hand, signaling them to stop, and placed his ear against the door to listen for any movement on the other side. After a moment, he nodded to indicate that the way was clear.

Fiona inhaled deeply and pushed the doors open. Beyond was a large office, dominated by a massive mahogany desk. Behind the desk sat Henry Devereaux, patiently clasping his hands together, waiting for them. If he was surprised to see them, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked amused.

"Welcome," Devereaux said, his voice smooth and unhurried. "I've been expecting you.

Anger surged through Fiona at his calm demeanor. They had risked everything to get here, and he was sitting there as if it were some kind of casual meeting. She stepped forward, her gun trained on him.

"It's over, Devereaux," she said, her voice steady. "We have everything we need to bring you down. Your network, your money—it's all crumbling.

Devereaux smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, really? You've been rather bothersome to me, Fiona. I'm almost offended at how unprepared you made me. Still, did you truly imagine it could end like this?"

Fiona opened her mouth to respond, just as the double doors behind them were flung wide and a squad of armed men spilled through. She whirled around, gun coming up, but Devereaux's voice cut through the chaos:.

"Drop your weapons," he ordered, his voice cold. "Or I'll have my men kill you where you stand."

Fiona hesitated. Her mind was racing. They were outnumbered now, and Devereaux's men had the upper hand. She looked sidelong at Julian, Emma, and Victor, who all appeared a little strung tight, their guns still leveled at the guards. They wouldn't win this fight like this.

Slowly, Fiona lowered her weapon to her side; she gestured for the others to do the same. Devereaux's smile grew even wider as his guards moved forwards, disarming them.

"Smart choice," he said, standing from his chair. "Now, then… let's have a little chat.

He moved from behind the desk and came toward Fiona, his eyes ice-chill and keenly meantime. "You have been quite the trouble for me, Fiona. I had to change so much because of you. But you should have known that you can never fight fate. In the end, power always wins.

Fiona glared back at him, her eyes unflinching. "You're not that powerful a man, Devereaux. Enough evidence we have to put you down and everyone that is tied to you. It's just a matter of time now."

Devereaux chuckled and shook his head. "You still cling to that hope, don't you? But you see, Fiona, hope is such a dangerous thing. It makes people do stupid things, like coming here, thinking you could stop me.

He turned to his guards. "Take them to the basement. We'll deal with them later."

With that, the guards seized Fiona and the others, dragged them out of the office, and down dimly lit hallways. As they were led further into the bowels of the complex, Fiona's mind strayed back to finding a way out. They had come so far; now it was all falling apart.

They were dragged down several flights of steps to a cold, damp basement. The guards shoved them into a small windowless room and locked the door behind them. Fiona could hear the heavy metal bolt slide into place, sealing them inside.

Emma turned to the door at once, studying it for any weak points. Julian was already on his job, surveying their environs for anything useful for an escape. Victor paced around the room, frustration evident in his body language.

"We need to get out of here," Fiona said, speaking low but urgent. "Devereaux isn't going to let us live. He's just buying time."

Julian nodded, grim-faced. "He's cooking up something. We need to move fast.

Emma drew back from the door, shaking her head. "It's solid; we're not getting out that way."

Fiona clenched her fists, feeling the weight their situation put upon them. They were trapped, unarmed, and at the mercy of a man who had every reason to kill them. But she wasn't ready to give up—not yet.

"We do have to make a disturbance," said Fiona, her mind racing. "If we can raise enough noise, maybe we can kindle some attention from outside. Somebody's got to hear us."

Julian's eyes traversed the room, resting on an old, rusty pipe that ran along the wall. "We could use that to raise a racket. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

Victor nodded, stepping towards him. "Let's do it. We don't have much time."

Together, they began to pound at the pipe. The noise echoed around the basement. Not much, but it was all they had. While she worked, Fiona couldn't but help think of Devereaux. He was still upstairs, no doubt thinking he had won. But she wouldn't let him have the last word.

They'd come too far to give up now.