Chapter 6 - The Visitor in the Dark
Daniel did not reach for his knife. He slid it quietly beneath the blotter paper on his desk, stood up, and pulled the desk lamp chain, plunging the study into absolute darkness save for the pale moonlight filtering through the high bay windows.
He stepped back into the shadow of the heavy bookshelf, his breathing shallow, his body coiled like an iron spring.
The brass handle of the study door turned slowly, without a sound.
The door creaked open three inches. A thin, horizontal bar of white light from the hallway ceiling cut across the Persian rug, illuminating the dust motes floating in the cold air.
A figure stepped into the room.
It was not Victoria.
It was a man—tall, thick-necked, wearing a dark grey tactical jacket and black leather gloves. In his right hand, he held a sleek, matte-black suppressed pistol fitted with an under-barrel tactical light.
The beam of the light cut through the dark room, sweeping across the empty leather chair, the desk, and finally locking onto the open black case lying on the floor near the fireplace.
The man paused, his thumb shifting the safety switch on his pistol with a soft, metallic click.
He raised his free hand to a radio headset strapped to his collar. "The case is open. Subject Vance has accessed the files."
A tinny, electronic voice buzzed through his earpiece, loud enough to echo faintly in the quiet room: "Eliminate the father. Secure the child. The client wants the ledger cleared before dawn."
Daniel didn't wait for the man to sweep his tactical light toward the bookshelves.
He launched himself out of the shadow, driving his shoulder hard into the gunman’s ribs with the force of a runaway freight train.
Both men crashed onto the heavy Persian rug, sliding six feet across the polished floorboards into the base of the oak desk.
The suppressed pistol went off with a quiet, pneumatic THWIP, the bullet tearing through the leather back of Daniel’s chair, sending a cloud of grey horsehair stuffing into the air.
Daniel grabbed the man’s right wrist with both hands, slamming it repeatedly against the sharp iron edge of the fireplace grate.
CLANG. CLANG.
The gunman grunted in agony, his fingers losing their grip, and the suppressed pistol skittered across the floor, vanishing beneath the sofa.
The man drove a heavy, gloved elbow into Daniel’s jaw.
Daniel’s head snapped back, his vision exploding into sharp geometric streaks of neon light. He fell back onto his elbows, blood pooling instantly in his mouth from a split lip.
The gunman scrambled to his feet, reaching into his tactical vest for a combat knife.
Daniel reached under the desk blotter, pulled out the silver hunting knife, and drove it upward into the gunman’s left thigh with every ounce of strength remaining in his shoulder.
The man let out a wet, choked scream, falling backward onto his knees, clutching his leg as blood gushed through the tear in his grey trousers.
Daniel didn't give him a second chance. He grabbed the heavy brass desk lamp by its base and swung it sideways with a savage, arc-like sweep, striking the gunman flush across the side of his jaw.
The man collapsed onto his side, his body twitching once before going completely limp against the hearth.
Daniel stood over him, gasping for air, blood dripping from his chin onto his blue oxford shirt.
He leaned down, ripped the radio headset from the unconscious man’s collar, and pressed the receiver to his ear.
"Victoria," Daniel spat into the microphone, his voice a ragged, bloody hiss.
Silence held the line for three seconds.
May you like
Then came her voice—cool, calm, and utterly undisturbed by the sound of gunshots.
"You should have taken the legal settlement, Daniel. It would have been so much cleaner for Maya."
