Chapter 14 - The Geneva Operation
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Five days later.
A thick blanket of fog hung low over Lake Geneva, obscuring the grand private villas that lined the water's edge.
I stood on the upper deck of a private yacht drifting silently two hundred yards from the shore of the Rossi estate in Switzerland. I wore a black tactical coat, my night-vision optics adjusted, observing the heavily guarded perimeter of my father’s sanctuary.
Beside me, Detective Singh adjusted her bulletproof vest, holding a federal extradition warrant issued by international law enforcement.
“Interpol has cleared the perimeter clearance,” Singh whispered, checking her watch. “We have eighteen tactical officers moving through the forest access road. But your father has at least twenty private mercenaries inside that compound, Adrian.”
“They’re mercenaries,” I replied coldly, checking the magazine of my weapon. “They fight for money. I fight for my family. They won't last ten minutes.”
Behind us, the cabin door opened. Grace stepped out onto the deck wearing a heavy jacket. She looked at me with fierce, unwavering support.
She had refused to stay behind in Italy. “If we finish this, we finish it together,” she had told me before we boarded the plane.
She walked up to me, reaching into her pocket, and pulled out her silver wedding ring. She took my right hand and slid it onto her finger, then pressed her palm against my cheek.
“Bring him to justice, Adrian,” she said softly. “Not for revenge. For our son’s future.”
I kissed her deeply, holding her close against the cold lake wind. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now go.”
May you like
I turned to Marco and Bellini, who were standing by the fast-assault rib boat docked alongside the yacht.
“Let’s go catch a ghost,” I said.
