Chapter 4 - The Lockdown Order
Suddenly, Marcus Vance’s radio earpiece crackled with static.
The security director’s hand shot up to touch his ear. His posture went instantly rigid as a voice barked frantically over the encrypted frequency.
"Mr. Guzman!" Marcus warned, stepping in front of the old titan with his hand reaching inside his uniform coat for his concealed sidearm. "Someone is watching us from the street."
Guzman lifted his head, his hazel eyes narrowing as he adjusted the young girl in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. "Keep her behind you, Marcus."
Through the large, arched glass windows at the front of L’Hiver, bathed in the rain-slicked streetlights of the embassy district, a dark figure emerged from the shadow of a parked delivery van.
He was tall, wearing a long black oilskin trench coat and a low-brimmed hat. He stood motionless on the sidewalk, his face obscured by the darkness, looking directly through the glass into the restaurant dining room.
The little girl in Guzman’s arms buried her face in his neck, her body shivering violently. "That's him," she whimpered.
"He took your mother?" Guzman asked, his voice dangerously soft.
"He told mommy you were never supposed to find us," the child sobbed. "He said if she tried to see you, he would burn the house down."
Arthur Guzman slowly turned his head toward the glass doors. The grief that had consumed his face moments ago evaporated, replaced by a cold, terrifying rage that had built up over twelve years of living in a house full of dead memories.
"He made one mistake," Guzman growled, his deep voice carrying across the entire silent restaurant, causing several wealthy diners to drop their silverware in alarm. "He brought my granddaughter to me."
Julian Sterling stepped down from the elevated dining section, holding the older granddaughter by the hand, coming to a halt right beside Guzman and Marcus.
"Cole has six men outside, Arthur," Julian said briskly, his voice flat and clinical. "They’ve cut the landline phones and blocked the cellular signal within a two-block radius. They're going to breach the front and rear doors simultaneously."
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Guzman looked at Julian, acknowledging the younger man's tactical assessment with a brief, grim nod.
"Marcus," Guzman commanded, his voice sounding like iron slamming onto granite. "Lock the doors. Deploy the security shutters. Nobody leaves this restaurant."
