Chapter 15 - The Queen's Gambit
The estate’s basement was a soundproof, concrete nightmare designed for one specific purpose.
Clara had never been down there during her time as a maid, and the metallic smell of old blood made her stomach churn.
Arthur had stripped off his tuxedo jacket and rolled up his sleeves, preparing to extract information from the Russian assassin.
The man was chained to a heavy steel chair in the center of the room, spitting blood onto the floor.
“I want you upstairs, Clara,” Arthur said without looking at her, selecting a surgical blade from a metal tray.
“This is not something you need to witness.”
Clara stood firmly in the doorway, refusing to retreat to the safety of the penthouse.
“He was trying to kill you, Arthur.”
“I am staying right here until I know exactly how he breached our security.”
The assassin laughed, a wet, gargling sound that echoed horribly in the small, damp room.
“You think I acted alone?” the Russian taunted, his heavily accented voice dripping with malice.
“Volkov has eyes inside your own house, Moretti.”
Arthur did not say a word.
He simply stepped forward and drove the surgical blade through the man’s hand, pinning it to the armrest of the chair.
The assassin screamed in agony, his body thrashing violently against the heavy steel chains.
“Who is the rat?” Arthur demanded, twisting the blade slowly to maximize the damage to the nerves.
Clara stepped fully into the room, her analytical mind piecing the puzzle together faster than the torture could.
“It wasn't a guard,” Clara said suddenly, drawing the attention of both men.
“The catering company for the gala was vetted three weeks ago, long before the strike on the docks.”
Arthur paused, looking back at her with dark, questioning eyes.
“Only one person had the authority to alter the catering staff roster this morning without raising red flags,” she continued.
Clara pulled out her encrypted phone, pulling up the digital access logs for the estate’s security network.
She turned the screen around so Arthur could see the glowing green text.
“Captain Rossi authorized a last-minute replacement for the bartending staff at seven in the morning.”
Arthur pulled the blade from the man’s hand, wiping the blood cleanly onto the assassin's white shirt.
His expression went entirely blank, a terrifying calm descending over his features as betrayal settled into his bones.
“Rossi thought we were weak for provoking Volkov,” Clara deduced, her voice devoid of any emotion.
“He sold us out to save his own skin.”
Arthur turned to his head of security, who was standing quietly in the shadows.
“Bring Captain Rossi to the courtyard,” Arthur commanded, his voice cold enough to freeze hell.
May you like
He looked back at the bleeding assassin in the chair.
“And feed this piece of trash to the dogs.”
