CHAPTER 15: The Letter in Cell 4
The holding cell block at District 4 was quiet, save for the distant dripping of a leaky pipe down the corridor.
Cell number 4 was completely empty now. David Vance had been transferred hours ago to a maximum-security federal transit facility pending his permanent placement in Colorado. The metal cot was bare, the grey wool blanket folded neatly at the foot of the mattress, and the small porcelain sink wiped clean.
Except for one item left behind on the narrow aluminum shelf by mistake.
A single, folded piece of cream-colored stationery with the embossed crest of a private Swiss bank.
A rookie night-shift guard named Officer Higgins walked down the tier during his routine lock check, shining his flashlight into the empty cell. His beam caught the white glint of the paper on the shelf.
Frowning, Higgins unlocked the cell door, stepped inside, and picked up the paper. It was a handwritten letter, addressed directly to David, signed with an unfamiliar initial: V.
Higgins unfolded the note under the harsh glare of the ceiling light and began to read:
David,
If you are reading this, it means your father's arrogance has finally brought the house down. You relied too much on domestic intimidation and forgot the cardinal rule of empire-building: never leave a loose thread in the dark.
Your mother-in-law outplayed you because you underestimated her patience. But do not assume the game ends in Boston.
The Swiss accounts attached to the secondary Geneva trust were never fully disclosed to Julian. There is a second vault—one your grandfather built in Zurich back in 1985—that contains assets neither the federal government nor Elena Rostova knows about.
If you want your freedom back, check the lining of the red leather ledger in your safety deposit box at Zurich Federal.
Yours in shadows, V.
Officer Higgins stared at the letter, his heart skipping a beat. A second vault in Zurich? Assets untouched by the federal seizure?
He quickly folded the letter, slipped it into his uniform breast pocket, and reached for his radio. But before he could press the transmit button, a gloved hand reached out from behind the cell bars, pressing a heavy silver suppressor against the back of his neck.
"Put the radio down, Officer," a cold, metallic voice whispered from the darkness of the corridor.
May you like
Higgins froze, his blood turning to ice.
Who was "V"? And what terrifying secret was still waiting inside that safety deposit box in Zurich?
