Chapter 12 - The Bogota Compound
The rain in Colombia fell with the heavy, relentless persistence of a tropical deluge, drumming a chaotic rhythm against the reinforced steel roof of the sprawling hacienda tucked deep within the hills of Bogota.
Inside the high-security compound, Dr. Heinrich Vance paced frantically across the marble-tiled floor of his study, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his sweaty nose.
"This is insane," Vance muttered to himself, clutching a thick manila folder of Swiss bank routing numbers against his chest. "The entire operation is compromised. If Damian Caruso finds out about the Zurich clinic... if he finds out the girl survived..."
He stopped pacing as a sudden, deafening explosion shook the foundations of the estate, rattling the crystal chandelier overhead and plunging the room into darkness for three seconds before the emergency backup generators kicked on with a sputtering hum.
"What was that?!" Vance shrieked, dropping the folder onto the mahogany desk.
Before he could reach the heavy oak door of his study, the massive mahogany panels were blown inward with a deafening crash, splintering into a thousand pieces as a concussion grenade filled the room with thick, blinding white smoke.
Through the haze stepped Damian Caruso.
He looked like an angel of death carved from stone and shadow.
His black tactical jacket was soaked with rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, and in his right hand, he held a suppressed HK416 assault rifle, the barrel still trailing a wisp of grey smoke.
Two elite Caruso operatives swarmed the room behind him, pinning Vance’s two armed bodyguards to the floor before they even had a chance to unholster their sidearms.
Dr. Vance staggered backward until his spine slammed hard against the bookshelves, his eyes wide with abject, animalistic terror.
"D-Damian..." Vance choked out, his hands shaking so violently he could barely keep them in front of him. "How... how did you find me this fast?"
Damian walked slowly across the ruined floorboards, his heavy combat boots crunching over splinters of wood and glass.
He didn't speak.
He simply closed the distance between them, raised the butt of his assault rifle with terrifying speed, and drove it straight into Vance’s stomach.
The doctor let out a strangled, breathless shriek, collapsing onto his knees as he vomited up bile onto the pristine marble floor, clutching his midsection and gasping for air.
Damian stood over him, looking down with the cold, detached cruelty of an executioner.
"You had one job, Heinrich," Damian said softly, his voice a low, lethal whisper that carried more terror than a scream. "Keep the books clean. Keep the patients quiet. And above all else, never touch what belongs to the Caruso family."
"I was... I was paid..." Vance wheezed, blood trickling from the corner of his split lip. "The Morettis... they forced me... they threatened to kill my family..."
"And now," Damian interrupted, pressing the cold steel barrel of his rifle directly against the center of Dr. Vance’s forehead, "your family is gone, your bank accounts in Zurich have been frozen and seized by my syndicates, and you are going to answer every single question I ask you."
Vance began to weep openly, tears mixing with the blood and sweat on his face.
May you like
"Ask me anything... anything! Just don't kill me!"
"Start with the delivery room in Zurich two years ago," Damian commanded, pressing the barrel harder against the doctor's skin. "Tell me who ordered my child stolen, and tell me every single name of every bastard who helped cover it up."
