Inheritor of Shadow

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Mole's Whispers

The descent down the maintenance ladder was a blur of cold steel and the rhythmic clatter of boots against metal. Max hit the floor of the darkened basement garage first, spinning around with his borrowed pistol raised. Arabella dropped beside him a second later, landing with the silent grace of a shadow.

"My car’s in bay four," Max whispered, his eyes scanning the rows of parked luxury sedans. "Orion should have moved it by now."

Arabella checked the Sig Sauer’s safety, her expression unreadable. "You sure your driver didn't sell you out too? Lucius seemed pretty confident about having the exits covered."

"Orion’s the only thing in this city I don't have to buy," Max said.

A pair of headlights cut through the gloom. A reinforced black SUV roared toward them, tires screaming as it drifted into a halt. The door flew open, and Orion leaned out, a submachine gun slung over his shoulder.

"Get in! Now!" Orion yelled.

Max shoved Arabella into the back seat and dived in after her. As the door slammed shut, Orion floored it, smashing through a temporary security barrier and barreling out into the humid Jakarta night.

"Report," Max barked, leaning back against the leather seat and finally letting his adrenaline plateau.

"The tower’s a hornets' nest, Max," Orion said, eyes glued to the rearview mirror. "Helena’s shooters are everywhere. I had to scrap two of them just to get the car to the basement. We’re heading to the penthouse. It’s the only place with a dedicated air-gap and localized security."

Max looked at Arabella. She was leaning against the far door, staring out at the passing neon lights of Sudirman. Her emerald dress was ruined, a long tear running up the thigh, but she didn't seem to care.

"You're surprisingly quiet for someone who just survived a rooftop execution," Max noted.

Arabella didn't turn her head. "I'm just wondering if the penthouse has a shower and decent bourbon. Everything else is secondary."

"We'll see," Max muttered.

*

The Adiwangsa "Fortress"—a triplex penthouse atop a private residential tower—was a masterpiece of glass, titanium, and paranoia. The elevator opened directly into a sprawling living area where the air was chilled to a precise sixty-eight degrees.

Two men were already waiting. Julian Kusumendra, a man who looked more like a tech-startup kid than a high-level intelligence operative, was surrounded by a semi-circle of glowing monitors. Beside him stood Cedric Mahardana, Max’s lead strategist, looking impeccable in a grey suit despite the three in the morning timestamp.

"Max, thank God," Cedric said, stepping forward. "We heard about the rooftop. Are you—" He stopped, his gaze falling on Arabella. "Who is this?"

"Arabella Kinasih," Max said, tossing the borrowed Beretta onto a marble coffee table. "She’s either my guardian angel or the person who’s going to eventually put a bullet in my brain. Julian, I need a sitrep."

Julian didn't look up from his keyboard. His fingers moved like spiders. "Sitrep is 'we’re screwed,' Boss. Or at least, we’re getting there."

"Be specific, Julian. I’ve had a long night," Max growled, walking over to a built-in bar and pouring two glasses of neat bourbon. He handed one to Arabella, who took it without a word.

"Someone’s been vacuuming the Adiwangsa holding accounts," Julian said, swivelled his chair around. "I’m not talking about rounding up cents. I’m talking about a massive, coordinated drain. Fifty million USD in the last six hours. It’s being routed through a series of shell companies in the Caymans, then disappearing into a private crypto-mixer."

Max froze, the glass halfway to his lips. "Fifty million? That requires internal clearance codes. High-level ones."

"Exactly," Cedric added, crossing his arms. "The kind of codes only a handful of people in the executive office possess. You have a mole, Max. A big one. And they’re not just stealing; they’re trying to hollow out the company before you can even sit in the Chairman’s chair."

Max turned toward the hallway leading to the staff quarters. "Where are Serina and Nadia?"

"In the kitchen," Orion said, appearing from the foyer. "I’ve had them under guard since we got the alert."

"Bring them in," Max ordered.

A minute later, two women were ushered into the living room. Serina, Max’s personal assistant, looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown. Nadia, the head of logistics, was calmer, but her hands were trembling as she clutched a tablet to her chest.

"Sir, we didn't do anything," Serina stammered, her eyes darting between Max and the grim-faced men surrounding him. "We’ve been here all night, just like you asked."

Max walked toward them, his presence filling the room. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't have to. The quiet intensity of his gaze was enough to make the air feel heavy.

"I like you, Serina," Max said softly. "You’ve been with the family for five years. And Nadia, you know the logistics of my life better than I do. But tonight, a team of professional killers knew exactly which roof I was on. And while they were trying to kill me, someone used an encrypted terminal to steal fifty million dollars from my father’s estate."

"Max, I swear—" Nadia started.

"Don't," Max interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "The only reason you’re still breathing is because I haven't decided which one of you is lying yet. Julian, did the signal come from this building?"

"It’s masked," Julian said, squinting at a line of code. "But the authorization originated from a device registered to this penthouse’s local network. It happened at 2:14 AM. Right when you were busy dodging bullets."

Max leaned down, his face inches from Nadia’s. "Who did you talk to today, Nadia? Who did you call when you thought Orion wasn't looking?"

"No one! I was just coordinating the motorcade!" Nadia cried.

"And you, Serina?" Max turned his gaze. "Did Helena offer you a retirement package? Or maybe Lucius promised you something else?"

"I don't even know Lucius!" Serina sobbed. "Please, Max. I’ve always been loyal."

Max stared at them for a long, agonizing minute. The silence in the room was absolute. Then, he straightened up and looked at Orion.

"Take them to the guest rooms. Lock the doors. No phones, no internet, no sunlight. If they so much as sneeze, I want to know about it."

As Orion led the weeping women away, Max turned back to the bar. He felt a presence behind him. Arabella was leaning against the counter, swirling her bourbon.

"You're a real charmer, Max," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Threatening the help. Very 'Old Money' of you."

"They’re not just 'the help,' Arabella. They’re the gates to my life," Max said, downing his drink. "And someone left the gate open."

"Maybe you’re looking at the wrong people," Arabella said, setting her glass down. "If I were the mole, I wouldn't be crying. I’d be halfway to Singapore by now."

"Which brings us to you," Max said, turning to face her. "You’re the only person who was on that roof who isn't on my payroll. You showed up, you 'saved' me, and now my money is vanishing. Coincidence?"

Arabella smiled, a sharp, cold expression that didn't reach her eyes. "If I wanted your money, Max, I wouldn't need a mole. I’d just take it from your cold, dead hands. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find that shower. I’ve had enough of your hospitality for one night."

She turned to walk away, but Max moved faster. He grabbed her arm, spinning her back toward him.

"You’re not going anywhere," Max hissed. "You’re the only lead I have to whatever game my aunt and the Kinasih family are playing. You’re staying right here until I get answers."

Arabella’s eyes flared with a sudden, lethal heat. She dropped into a defensive stance, her hand hovering near where her Sig Sauer had been. "I'm not your prisoner, Max. Don't test me."

"I’m not testing you. I’m keeping you alive," Max countered. "You think Lucius is just going to let you walk away after you helped me? You’re in this now, whether you like it or not."

Before she could respond, a sharp, high-pitched chirping sound erupted from Julian’s station.

"Uh, Boss?" Julian’s voice was suddenly tight with panic. "You might want to see this."

Max let go of Arabella and strode over to the monitors. "What is it?"

"I traced the secondary ping from the transaction," Julian said, his fingers flying across the keys. "The mole didn't just steal the money. They left a 'thank you' note. They bypassed the firewall at the Adiwangsa server farm in West Jakarta."

"So? Change the passwords," Max said.

"It’s not a data breach, Max," Julian said, his face turning pale in the glow of the screen. "Look at the live feed."

Julian tapped a key, and the center monitor switched to a grainy, night-vision camera view of a massive, hummimg server room. Rows of black towers stretched into the distance.

In the center of the frame, taped directly onto the main mainframe cooling unit, was a block of C4 explosive. A small, digital timer was blinking in the darkness.

04:59... 04:58...

"They’re going to blow the servers," Cedric whispered, horror dawning on his face. "If those go down, we lose the encrypted ledgers. Every proof of the Suryanegara fraud, every record of your father’s private holdings... it’ll all be gone."

Max stared at the blinking red numbers, his jaw tightening until it ached.

"It’s a wipe," Max said, his voice a low, lethal growl. "They’re not just stealing the cash. They’re erasing the evidence."

He turned to Orion, who was already reaching for his gear.

"Orion, get the car. Julian, can you kill the signal?"

"It’s hard-wired, Max! I can't stop it from here!" Julian yelled.

Max grabbed his jacket and his gun, his eyes locking onto Arabella’s. She was standing by the window, watching the countdown with a strange, detached intensity.

"You wanted to see what Adiwangsa blood is good for?" Max asked, his voice echoing through the penthouse. "Grab a gun. We’re going for a drive."

Arabella didn't hesitate. She picked up the Sig Sauer from the table and checked the magazine. "Try to keep up, Max. It’d be a shame if you died before I decided whether to kill you myself."