Chapter 35 - The Snapping Trap
The proxy’s eyes widened. A genuine, unrestrained flash of panic broke through his professional training. He instinctively began to pull his hand out of his jacket, preparing to retreat or draw a concealed weapon.
Julian’s movement was explosive, yet brutally precise. He did not throw a wild punch. He simply raised his left hand, his long fingers gripping the proxy’s wrist with the crushing, immovable force of a steel vice, pinning the man's hand inside his own jacket.
The proxy gasped quietly, pain flaring in his eyes as Julian squeezed the wrist bones together.
"Do not move," Julian commanded, his voice a lethal, vibrating whisper right next to the man’s ear. "There are four sniper rifles trained on your chest from the catwalks above us. If you pull that hand out, you will die before it clears the fabric."
The proxy went completely rigid. He looked up toward the dark ceiling of the museum, realizing the absolute, terrifying truth of Julian’s words.
"You were sent here to deliver a message," Julian stated, his face inches from the proxy's, his jaw clenched with quiet fury. "But Victor Thorne is a coward. He uses proxies because he is afraid to face me himself."
With his free right hand, Julian reached into the proxy’s outer pocket and smoothly extracted the man’s encrypted burner phone.
"I am not going to kill you," Julian murmured softly, staring directly into the terrified eyes of the operative. "I am going to use you."
Julian let go of the man’s wrist. He stepped back, straightening his own tuxedo jacket with a slow, perfectly composed motion.
"Elias," Julian spoke calmly into the empty air.
Instantly, from the heavy velvet curtains behind them, three massive security operatives emerged in absolute silence. They grabbed the proxy by the arms, completely immobilizing him before he could even draw a breath to shout.
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Julian looked down at the encrypted phone in his hand. The trap had snapped shut flawlessly. Victor Thorne had sent a digital key right into Julian’s hands.
"Take him to the quiet room in the sub-basement," Julian ordered his men, his facial expression returning to a state of profound, grounded peace. "It is time to make a phone call to London."
