Inheritor of Shadow

Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Deadly Countdown

"Try to keep up, Max. It’d be a shame if you died before I decided whether to kill you myself."

The elevator doors hissed shut on Arabella’s smirk, plunging them into a descent that felt like a fall into an abyss. Max checked his watch. Four minutes and forty seconds.

"Orion, tell me the engine is running," Max snapped into his comms.

"It’s screaming, Boss. We’re in the lobby basement. Get your asses down here," Orion’s voice crackled back, tight with the kind of stress that only comes when millions of dollars are about to evaporate.

Max glanced at Arabella. She was leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator, casually checking the weight of the Sig Sauer. She looked like she was heading to a gala, not a suicide mission.

"You’re awfully calm for someone about to drive into a wall of C4," Max said.

"I’ve always liked fireworks, Max. Besides, if we die, I don’t have to worry about my dry cleaning bill for this dress," she replied, her eyes tracking the floor numbers as they blurred past.

"If we die, I’m haunting you first for that comment."

The doors dinged open. They didn't walk; they sprinted. The black SUV was already rolling as they dove into the back seat. Orion didn't wait for the doors to click shut before he floored it, the tires shrieking against the concrete as they surged up the ramp and into the humid Jakarta night.

"Julian! Talk to me!" Max yelled over the roar of the engine.

"Three minutes and twenty seconds!" Julian’s voice wailed through the speakers. "Max, you’re in Sudirman. Traffic is a nightmare even at this hour. You need to take the flyover!"

"I’m on it! Shut up and keep that feed live!" Orion roared, swerving the massive SUV between two slow-moving trucks. "Max, hold on to something!"

Max braced his hand against the ceiling as Orion jumped a curb to bypass a clogged intersection. "Arabella, can you actually shoot that thing, or are you just holding it for the aesthetic?"

"I hit a moving target at two hundred yards when I was twelve, Max. Don’t insult me," she said, her voice remarkably steady despite the vehicle rocking violently.

"Good to know. Orion, how far?"

"Two miles! But the service gate is going to be locked. We’re going through the fence!"

"Do it," Max commanded. "Julian, any movement on site?"

"I’ve got heat signatures! At least six, maybe eight. They’re in the lobby of the server farm. They’re not just guards, Max. They’re wearing tactical gear. This is a professional hold-down."

Max checked his weapon, a cold weight in his palm. "They’re waiting for the clock to hit zero to make sure nobody interferes. We’re going to have to be loud."

"I like loud," Arabella murmured, clicking the safety off.

The SUV veered off the main road, bouncing over a gravel shoulder. Ahead, the massive, windowless block of the West Jakarta server farm loomed like a tombstone. A high chain-link fence topped with razor wire stood in their way.

"Brace!" Orion yelled.

The impact was a deafening crunch of steel on wire. The SUV plowed through the gate, the fence wrapping around the hood like a shroud before being torn away. Orion slammed the brakes, spinning the vehicle into a tactical stop right in front of the main entrance.

"Go! Go! Go!" Max shouted.

He kicked the door open and rolled out, the Beretta lead-singing as he spotted a figure in the shadows of the loading dock.

Pop-pop.

The figure slumped.

"Clear right!" Arabella called out, her Sig Sauer barking twice in rapid succession. She didn't even look at the bodies; she was already moving toward the glass doors.

"Julian, the timer!" Max panted as they reached the entrance.

"One minute, forty seconds! Max, the main server room is on the third floor. End of the hall. You have to bypass the biometric lock!"

"I don't have time for biometrics!" Max kicked the glass door, but it was reinforced. "Orion, breaching charge!"

"Step back!" Orion slapped a small, adhesive strip onto the glass and pulled the pin.

The explosion was small but focused, shattering the reinforced pane into a million diamonds. Max was the first one through the smoke, his boots crunching on glass.

"Welcome to the party, Maximilian!" a woman’s voice echoed through the high-ceilinged lobby.

Max ducked behind a marble pillar just as a burst of submachine gun fire shredded the air where his head had been. He looked across the lobby. A woman stood on the mezzanine, her blonde hair tied back in a severe ponytail, a suppressed MP5 held casually in her grip.

"Felicia," Max hissed. "I should have known my aunt would send her favorite little snake."

"Flattery will get you a quicker death, Max!" Felicia Paramadita shouted down, her eyes dancing with a manic energy. "You’re too late! The wipe is already authorized. Even if you stop the bomb, the data is being overwritten as we speak!"

"Not if I kill the power first!" Max shouted back. "Arabella, take the stairs! I’ll keep her busy!"

"On it!" Arabella didn't hesitate, darting toward the stairwell behind a hail of cover fire from Orion.

"You think you’re so smart, don't you?" Felicia laughed, spraying another burst toward Max’s pillar. "You’re just a boy playing with his father’s toys! This city doesn't want an Adiwangsa anymore! We want progress!"

"Is that what you call burning down the house? Progress?" Max stepped out, firing three rounds at the mezzanine. Felicia ducked, the bullets sparking off the metal railing.

"It’s called a fresh start, Max! Something you wouldn't understand!"

"Orion, suppress her!" Max commanded.

Orion stepped into the open, his submachine gun chattering a rhythmic, terrifying tune. Felicia was forced back, disappearing into the shadows of the second floor. Max didn't wait. He sprinted for the elevator—no, too slow. He took the stairs three at a time, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Fifty-five seconds.

He burst onto the third floor. The hallway was a long, sterile corridor of white light and humming fans. At the far end, he saw Arabella grappling with a mercenary. She was a blur of emerald silk and lethal efficiency, using the man’s own momentum to slam his head into the wall before finishing him with a point-blank shot to the chest.

"Where’s the bomb?" Max yelled, breathless.

"Mainframe room! In the back!" she pointed.

They ran. The hum of the servers grew louder, a mechanical roar that vibrated in Max’s teeth. They reached the heavy steel doors. Max didn't even try the handle; he fired four rounds into the lock mechanism and kicked it open.

The server room was freezing, the air-conditioned gale whipping Max’s hair. In the center, attached to the cooling unit exactly where the camera had shown it, was the C4 block.

00:22... 00:21...

"Julian, I’m looking at it! What do I do?" Max shouted into his comms.

"The blue wire! No, wait—the green one with the yellow stripe! Max, it’s a tiered trigger!" Julian’s voice was frantic, almost unintelligible.

"Focus, Julian! Which one?"

Max pulled a tactical knife from his belt, his hands surprisingly steady. He looked at the mess of wires.

"Max, wait," Arabella said, her voice suddenly low. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the detonator.

"Twenty seconds, Arabella! We don't have time for a second opinion!"

"Look at the LED on the side," she said, pointing a slim finger. "It’s not blinking in sync with the timer. It’s... it’s heart-beating."

"What does that mean?"

"It’s not a timer, Max. It’s a receiver," she whispered, her face going pale. "The countdown is a fake. It’s designed to keep you right here."

Max froze. He looked at the wires again. They weren't connected to the C4 in a way that made sense for a blast. They were connected to a small, black box tucked behind the explosive.

"It’s a diversion," Max realized, his blood turning to ice. "The bomb isn't the point."

"Julian!" Max roared. "Check the external sensors! Now!"

"Max, I—oh no," Julian’s voice dropped an octave. "Max, get out of there. Get out now!"

"What is it?"

"The police! They’re everywhere! They just breached the perimeter! And Max... they’re not here for the mercenaries. They’re responding to a 'terrorist in progress' report. Anonymous tip said you were the one blowing the servers!"

Max looked at the C4. He looked at Arabella.

"If I pull this, it doesn't matter," Max said, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "The moment the police see me in this room with a bomb and a dozen dead bodies, I’m the villain. Helena didn't want to kill me here. She wanted to frame me."

"Max, the timer!" Arabella pointed.

00:05... 00:04...

"Move!" Max grabbed Arabella by the waist and dove behind a row of server racks.

00:01... 00:00...

There was no explosion. Instead, a loud, synthesized chirp echoed through the room. A small screen on the detonator flickered to life. It didn't show a blast confirmation. It showed a single word in bright, mocking red:

CHECKMATE.

Suddenly, the lights in the server room turned from white to a flashing, emergency crimson. The overhead speakers began to blare a siren that was different from the fire alarm.

"Maximilian Adiwangsa!" a voice boomed from the building’s PA system. "This is the Jakarta Metropolitan Police! You are surrounded! Drop your weapons and step into the hallway with your hands above your head!"

Max stood up slowly, looking at the door. Outside the server room windows, blue and red lights were already reflecting off the glass of the neighboring buildings. He could hear the heavy thud of boots in the hallway—hundreds of them.

"Orion, what’s your status?" Max asked, his voice deathly quiet.

"I’m pinned in the lobby, Max! They’ve got SWAT teams at every exit! They’re not asking questions, they’re just moving in! Boss, what the hell is happening?"

Max looked at Arabella. She was leaning against a server rack, a strange, almost admiring smile on her face.

"Your aunt is better at this than I thought," she remarked.

"Glad you’re enjoying the show," Max snapped. He checked his magazine. Six rounds left. "We can't stay here. If we get arrested now, the Adiwangsa name is done. I’ll be in a black site before the sun comes up."

"So what’s the plan, Boss?" Arabella asked, tucking her Sig back into her ruined dress. "Shoot our way out of a police cordon?"

Max looked at the heavy cooling vents on the ceiling. Then he looked at the massive windows overlooking the canal behind the building.

"No," Max said, his eyes hardening. "We’re going to do something much worse. We’re going to give them exactly what they want."

"And what’s that?"

"A show."

Max grabbed the C4 block—the harmless, fake C4—and tucked it into his waistband. He turned toward the door as the first flashbang detonated in the hallway outside.

"Orion! Get the car to the canal side! We’re jumping!"

"You're insane!" Orion’s voice screamed through the comms.

"I'm an Adiwangsa," Max corrected, a predatory grin finally returning to his face. "In this city, that’s the same thing. Arabella, you coming?"

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling. "I told you, Max. I like fireworks."