Chapter 9 - The Sting
I knew what I had to do.
I couldn't just let the authorities handle this.
I needed to ensure the buyers were caught too.
I went to the holding cell where Ryan was being kept.
He looked terrible,
his hair disheveled,
his expensive shirt stained.
I sat across from him,
placing the "Endgame" drive on the table.
“The deal is still on,”
I said,
my voice cold and flat.
He looked at the drive,
his eyes widening.
“You’re going to let me go?”
“No,”
I said.
“You’re going to call your contact.
You’re going to tell them the location has changed.
You’re going to tell them the trade happens tonight at the Fort Meade perimeter.”
“They’ll kill me if they know I’m compromised,”
he whimpered.
“Then don't let them know,”
I replied.
“Do this,
and I’ll make sure you get a life sentence instead of a death penalty.”
He hesitated,
the gears in his manipulative mind turning.
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m the only thing standing between you and a shallow grave,”
I said.
He made the call.
His voice was steady,
the professional liar returning to his element.
The meeting was set for 2:00 a.m.,
near the old radar tower on the base.
I coordinated with the FBI and the CIA.
We turned the perimeter into a kill zone.
The night was pitch black,
the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth.
I stood in the shadows,
watching through night-vision goggles as a black van approached the gate.
Three men stepped out,
carrying a briefcase.
Ryan stood in the light of the tower,
his hands shaking.
“Do you have it?”
the lead man asked,
his accent thick and unidentifiable.
“I have it,”
Ryan said,
holding up a decoy drive.
“Where is the money?”
The man opened the briefcase,
revealing stacks of high-denomination bills.
“Five million,”
he said.
“As promised.”
“Now!”
I shouted into the radio.
Flashbangs erupted,
blinding the buyers and Ryan.
Tear gas filled the air.
My team moved in,
subduing the men before they could even draw their weapons.
I walked out of the darkness,
my boots crunching on the gravel.
I looked at the briefcase,
then at the men on the ground.
Justice was a cold dish,
and tonight,
it was served in the mud.
Ryan looked at me,
his eyes streaming from the gas.
“Kelsey,
please,”
he choked out.
I didn't say a word.
I just watched as they put the hood over his head and loaded him into the van.
The multimillion-dollar secret was safe.
The operatives were safe.
May you like
And for the first time in fifteen years,
I was safe.
