Chapter 6 - The Storm on the Bay
The storm hit Key Biscayne with full tropical force by six o'clock that evening. Howling wind whipped through the palm trees surrounding the estate, while white ocean foam splashed over the coral seawall at the edge of the lawn.
Inside the estate's sprawling library, a rich fire crackled in a grand stone fireplace, casting warm orange light across rows of mahogany bookshelves, leather armchairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows reinforced with heavy steel shutters.
Iris sat on the soft leather sofa near the fire, a mug of hot chamomile tea resting on the table beside her. Her portfolio bag—or what was left of it—lay on the rug, while her black titanium drive sat safely on the desk where Roman was working on a secure laptop.
Roman had changed into dark trousers and a charcoal cashmere sweater, his sleeves pushed up to reveal his arms. He was speaking on a secure satellite phone, his tone low and commandingly calm.
"Have the port authority impound the Meridian vessel The Star of Odessa at berth four," Roman was saying into the phone. "Tell customs we have verified reports of undeclared commercial containers holding unlicensed hardware. If the captain tries to weigh anchor, tell the coast guard to freeze their clearance."
He listened for a moment, nodded, and snapped the phone shut.
He walked over to the fireplace, leaning one shoulder against the heavy mantle piece, looking down at Iris. "The federal authorities are stepping in now. The paper trail you built on that titanium drive is bulletproof. The U.S. Attorney’s office in Miami is preparing arrest warrants for Viktor Vanev and eleven of his associates as we speak."
Iris let out a long, quiet sigh, leaning her head back against the cushion. "So it's over?"
"Not quite," Roman said, his posture remaining vigilant. "Vanev knows the warrants are coming. His entire operation in Florida is collapsing tonight. A man like that doesn't go to federal prison quietly, Iris. When animals like Vanev realize they're trapped, they do something loud."
"You think he'll try to leave the country?"
"I think he'll try to take revenge before he leaves," Roman said quietly.
At that exact moment, the lights inside the villa flickered twice, then went completely dark.
The low hum of the air conditioning died away, replaced instantly by the howling sound of the storm outside and the sharp crackle of the fireplace.
Iris sat up quickly, her pulse accelerating. "Roman?"
"Stay down," Roman commanded instantly, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.
In a single, fluid movement, Roman reached beneath his cashmere sweater, pulling a black semi-automatic pistol from a concealed leather holster at his waist. The metallic slide racked back with a cold, terrifying click.
He moved toward her swiftly, pulling her off the sofa and guiding her down behind the heavy oak desk near the back wall. "Stay behind this desk. Don't stand up, no matter what you hear."
"Where are you going?" she whispered frantically, her left hand grabbing his sleeve.
"The main generator just went down," Roman said, his eyes scanning the dark hallway outside the library door. "The automated back-up should have kicked in three seconds ago. Someone cut the primary lines at the exterior junction."
Radio static hissed quietly from the small earpiece Roman was wearing.
"Boss!" Geno's voice came through, distorted by static. "We got two boats coming in hot over the seawall from the south dock! Six men, tactical gear, suppressed weapons! They took out Marco at the gate!"
"Hold the foyer," Roman commanded into his collar mic, his voice devoid of panic. "I’m securing Iris in the safe room."
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Roman turned back to Iris, reaching down to pull her to her feet. "Come on."
Before they could reach the concealed door behind the bookshelf, the heavy reinforced glass of the library window shattered inward in an explosion of sparks, rain, and black shards.
