Chapter 7 - The Ultimate Betrayal
“Dad?” I choked out, pushing myself up from the floor.
He didn't look at me. His eyes were locked on Vance, who was frozen in place, her rifle still pointed at Arthur.
“I said drop it,” my father repeated.
Slowly, Vance lowered her weapon and kicked it away. The other FBI agents hesitated, unsure of what to do. They didn't have orders to shoot the star witness they were supposed to protect.
“What is going on?” I demanded, stepping out from behind the pallets. “Dad, what are you doing? They’re here to help us!”
My father finally looked at me. There was no warmth in his eyes. Only cold, calculating distance. The kind of look a businessman gives an unprofitable spreadsheet.
“You did well, Julian,” my father said. “You followed the breadcrumbs perfectly. You got the FBI to eliminate Arthur's men for me. And you brought Arthur right to my feet.”
“Raymond,” Arthur wheezed from the floor, coughing up blood. “You son of a bitch. You set me up.”
“You got greedy, Arthur,” my father replied coldly. “You thought you could cut me out of the Volkov deal. You thought you could take my empire.”
I stood there, paralyzed, as the puzzle pieces finally snapped together in a horrifying picture.
“You weren't going to turn state’s evidence,” I whispered, staring at the man I thought I knew. “You weren't trying to dismantle the syndicate. You were trying to take it over.”
My father smiled grimly. “Arthur had the connections. But I had the brains. I just needed him out of the way. And I needed the FBI to do the heavy lifting.”
“The empty coffin,” Vance said, realization dawning on her face. “The fake death. You used us. You used your own son to lure Arthur into a federal trap so you could eliminate your rival without getting your hands dirty.”
“It was a very elegant plan,” my father agreed. “Helen played her part perfectly, too. She thought she was betraying me to Arthur. But I let her find those files. I knew she’d run to him. I knew Arthur would panic and try to seize control.”
My mother wailed from the floor, realizing how deeply she had been played by her own husband.
“You used everyone,” I said, disgust rising in my throat, choking out the relief I had felt seeing him alive just moments ago. “You put my wife and children in danger. You let Arthur send killers to our house!”
“A calculated risk,” my father dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I knew you would protect them. You’re strong, Julian. Stronger than I thought.”
“I’m nothing like you,” I spat.
“We’ll see,” my father said. He tossed me a set of keys. “There is a private jet waiting at Teterboro Airport. We’re leaving for Costa Rica. The syndicate is mine now. You and your family will never want for anything again.”
I looked at the keys in my hand. Then I looked at Agent Vance. She gave me a desperate, subtle shake of her head.
If my father walked out of here, he would become the new head of the largest criminal organization on the East Coast.
“No,” I said softly.
“What?” my father frowned, his grip tightening on the shotgun.
“I said no,” I repeated, dropping the keys on the concrete. “I’m not going anywhere with you. And neither are you.”
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Before he could react, I lunged forward, not toward my father, but toward the electrical box on the wall beside me. I grabbed the main breaker switch and yanked it down.
The warehouse plunged into pitch darkness.
