Chapter 23 - The Hacker's Gambit
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The safehouse hummed with the sound of laptop cooling fans. Vincent had linked three computers together, running a complex decryption algorithm through a proxy server in Eastern Europe to mask our location.
Lily sat beside him, cross-referencing the bank accounts Ethan Cole had provided with the corporate filings of Obsidian Holdings.
"I’m at the firewall," Vincent announced, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "Dominic, I need the sequence override you used for the Cayman accounts."
I stood over his shoulder, reciting a twenty-four-character alphanumeric code from a memory I had tried to bury for two decades. It was the master key to my old empire.
Vincent hit enter. The screen flashed red for a tense second, then turned a solid, brilliant green.
"We’re in," Vincent breathed in awe. "My god. The sheer volume of liquid assets here... Thorne has nearly two hundred million dollars sitting in these accounts."
"Not anymore," I said. "Transfer it all. Distribute it to the hundreds of anonymous charitable trusts Evelyn set up over the years. Drain him dry."
Vincent initiated the transfer protocol. We watched as the progress bar slowly filled. 10%. 30%. 60%.
Suddenly, an error message popped up on the screen.
"We’ve tripped a secondary alarm," Vincent warned, frantically typing to bypass it. "Thorne’s cybersecurity team is actively fighting me. They’re trying to sever the connection before the transfer completes."
"Hold the line, Vincent," I urged.
"I’m holding it, but they’re tracing our IP address. We have about two minutes before they pinpoint this safehouse."
"Lily," Evelyn said urgently. "Send the article to your editor right now. Attach the live transfer logs as proof of the offshore accounts."
Lily hit send on her email client. "It’s gone. It’s in his inbox."
"Transfer complete!" Vincent shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "Account balance is zero. Marcus Thorne is officially bankrupt."
"Shut everything down and pack up," I ordered. "If they traced the IP, Thorne’s hitters are already on their way."
As we grabbed our gear and headed for the fire escape, my burner phone rang. It was an unknown number.
I answered it.
"You took my money," a deep, furious voice growled on the other end. It was Marcus Thorne.
"I took your power, Marcus," I replied calmly. "You’re done."
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"I’ll kill you, Ghost. I’ll kill your wife, your daughter, and everyone you’ve ever looked at."
"You can try," I said. "I'll be waiting for you at the old shipyard on Pier 44. Come alone, or don't come at all." I hung up the phone.
