Chapter 8 - The Cipher of Blood
The heavy oak floorboards in the center of the grand ballroom began to shudder.
A series of high-powered hydraulic locks disengaged beneath the floor with a loud, metallic CLACK-CLACK-CLACK that echoed off the high ceilings.
The board members gasped, several of them scrambling back from the table as a massive twenty-foot section of the polished oak flooring slid smoothly sideways on concealed steel tracks, revealing a reinforced glass floor beneath.
Through the crystal-clear structural glass, lit by bright halogen lights from below, lay a vast, subterranean medical research laboratory hidden beneath the mansion.
Inside the subterranean vault, sitting in a leather chair surrounded by monitoring equipment, was Michael Valenti.
Beside him stood three armed Castalano security officers who had breached the sub-floor through a secondary entrance five minutes prior, their weapons aimed directly at two rogue scientists in lab coats who were kneeling on the concrete floor with their hands behind their heads.
The board members stared down through the glass floor in absolute, horrified shock.
"He's... he's alive?" one of the trustees stammered, his face turning pale as paper.
Vincent walked onto the glass floor, his leather shoes tapping directly above where his brother sat below. He looked down at Michael, who raised his head, looking up through the glass floor at Vincent with a tired, deeply grateful smile.
Vincent looked back up at Arthur Vance, whose face was completely drained of color, his hands shaking as he realized his entire thirty-year deception had crumbled in seconds.
"You built your laboratory under my feet, Arthur," Vincent said, his voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "You kept my brother in a cage. You poisoned my nephews. And you tried to steal my brother's daughter."
Vance backed away toward the rear exit, his eyes wild with panic. "Guards! Kill him! Kill him now!"
The eight tactical guards drew their sidearms, but before they could raise their barrels, the four Castalano officers standing behind Vincent, along with six more who burst through the grand entrance doors, opened fire with tactical precision.
The sound of suppressed gunfire echoed through the cavernous ballroom. In less than ten seconds, all eight rogue guards were disarmed and pinned to the floor by Vincent's security team.
Vance reached the rear service door, frantically punching an emergency code into the wall keypad.
Vincent moved like a striking predator. He crossed the glass floor in four long strides, grabbed Vance by the throat with his broad, calloused hand, and slammed him violently back against the dark wood paneling beside the door.
Vance choked, gasping for air as Vincent’s grip tightened like an iron vise.
"The board... the board will destroy you, Vincent..." Vance rasped out, his eyes bulging with terror.
"The board is finished," Vincent whispered, his face inches from Vance's. "And so are you."
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Vincent pulled a thumb drive from his vest pocket—the drive recovered from the mountain lodge—and shoved it into Vance's coat pocket. "The federal prosecutor is waiting outside the gate, Arthur. Every illegal wire transfer, every medical trial record, and every assassination order you signed is on that drive."
Vincent released his grip, letting Vance collapse onto his knees on the oak floor, coughing violently as two Castalano officers slapped heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists and dragged him out of the room.
