MONEY MAKES THE WORLD SPIN

Chapter Seven: The Devil’s Ransom

The fire crackled low in the Geneva safehouse, but the air felt colder than the snowstorm outside. Jace Carter stared at the grainy video on Elena’s phone, his pulse a steady thrum in his ears, Gustavo Reyes, bruised and gagged, chained to a rusted chair in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. A single bulb swung overhead, flickering.

Then Lucien Ward stepped into frame , calm, collected, sipping wine. “He won’t last long. I’m sure you’ve guessed that.”

“But I’m nothing if not fair. Bring yourself to me, Dubai, 48 hours, and I’ll let him go.”

“Don’t… and he dies slowly. With teeth, cameras, and press coverage.”

“Your move, Heir.” The video cut to black.

Jace sat in silence. Elena paced behind him. “It’s bait. You go, you die. Period.”

Noelle Varga leaned against the doorframe, a glass of brandy in her shaking hand. “She’s right. Lucien never plays fair. If he wants you in Dubai, it’s because he has a kill shot lined up.”

“But if I don’t go,” Jace said, “we lose Gustavo. And with him, the third key.”

“Then we find another way,” Elena snapped. “There’s always another way.”

“Gustavo Reyes doesn’t trust anyone,” Noelle said quietly. “Except Elias. Barely. He’s a tactician. Cold, calculating. If he gave up his location, it’s because he wanted you to find him.”

Jace’s eyes narrowed. “So… he leaked his own hostage video?”

Noelle nodded. “He’s daring you to outsmart Lucien.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “That, or he’s desperate.” Three hours later, a hidden Carter war room beneath the Geneva airport.

Multiple screens glowed with intercepted transmissions, old network codes, encrypted map data, and live satellite tracking. Elena operated the feed while Jace coordinated with Darius Feng through a secure line.

Darius’s voice came through crystal clear: “I know the location. Gulf of California. A decommissioned drug cartel facility Lucien’s repurposed for blacksite storage.”

“Armed?”

“Extremely. Lucien’s elite team is stationed there,  the Red Halos. Ex-military. Blacklisted mercs. The kind that eat war for breakfast.”

Jace ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll need gear. Access. A way in.” Darius chuckled. “You won’t get in through the front door. But if Gustavo’s involved, he’s already left a back door open.”

“What makes you so sure?” Elena asked.

“Because Gustavo never gets taken. He lets himself get taken.”

Twenty-four hours later – Baja, Mexico.

The sun beat down like a punishment. Sandstorms swept through the outskirts of the Gulf. Jace and Elena rode into the region in a battered SUV, posing as scavengers, They stopped outside an old tequila factory, boarded up, bullet holes in the walls, roof sagging. A relic from a war no one talked about anymore.

Elena stepped out first, scanning the terrain. Her rifle was holstered, but her knife was loose in her boot. “This is the address he leaked,” she said. “But no one's here.”

Jace climbed out. “Then we dig.” They entered the factory and split up, The place stank of mold, smoke, and something metallic. Dried blood, maybe. Jace moved down a side corridor, light flickering.

And then, he saw it, A sigil carved into the wall A familiar one. The Carter crest, marked upside down… with a single red X over it. Elena joined him, frowning. “That’s old-school code. Pre-consortium days.”

“It means, ‘Trap inside. Watch for misdirection.’” Suddenly, a faint click echoed under Jace’s foot.

He looked down. Pressure plate. Bomb. “RUN!” he shouted. The explosion rocked the factory.

Concrete splintered. Wood shattered. Jace and Elena were thrown across the room. Dust clouded everything. The ceiling groaned, half-collapsed. Jace blinked. Blood in his eye. Elena groaned nearby. They weren’t dead. But someone knew they were coming.

They stumbled out the back exit, coughing and bleeding. And there,  leaning against a parked motorcycle like a man on vacation, was Gustavo Reyes. Tall. Trim. Grey at the temples. Wearing mirrored sunglasses and chewing a toothpick. “Well,” he said, voice like gravel and honey, “you’re slower than I expected.”

Elena raised her gun. “You set us up.”

He grinned. “No. I filtered out the rats. And now I know it’s really you. Not some Lucien clone.”

Jace stepped forward. “You faked your own kidnapping.”

“Of course I did. I wanted to see how far you’d go. Who you’d bring. And whether you’d panic.”

“Lucien’s watching everything. That building had surveillance”

“I wiped it before you got here.”

Jace clenched his jaw. “People died for this.”

Gustavo’s face darkened. “People die every day, boy. The difference is, we decide whether they died for something. Now tell me, why should I give you the final key?”

The question lingered like gunpowder, Jace didn’t flinch. “Because I’m not Elias. And I’m sure as hell not Lucien. But I’m the only one standing in the fire, bleeding for it.”

Gustavo pulled a cigar from his pocket. Lit it slowly. Then… he smiled. “Good answer.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a black glass token with the Carter symbol etched in blood-red. “This is the third key. The control override for Carter Global West. But it comes with a final truth.”

Jace took it. Gustavo leaned in. “Your grandfather wasn’t just building an empire.”

“Then what was he doing?”

“Covering up a war crime.”

Jace froze. Gustavo continued. “Thirty years ago, Elias Carter signed off on a chemical deal during a proxy war in Eastern Europe. That chemical? It killed 1,200 civilians. Lucien helped develop it. But Elias funded it.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Why would he do that?”

“To control oil routes. To control elections. To control everything.”

“And Lucien?” Jace asked.

“Lucien wanted to go public. Elias shut him out. Buried it. Framed him. Stole everything. That’s why Lucien wants the Consortium back. Not for money. For revenge.”

Jace’s hand tightened on the key. “So what now?” he asked.

Gustavo exhaled smoke. “Now you have all three keys. Now the game changes. But be warned…”

He flicked ash onto the sand. “Daven Carter is not a puppet. He’s a weapon. Trained since childhood to kill anyone who touches the throne.”

Suddenly, a sniper round shattered the sand next to Jace’s feet. Gustavo dove. Another shot rang out, piercing Elena’s shoulder. She screamed, hitting the dirt. Jace fired blindly into the hills. Then a voice rang out over a loudspeaker, warped, cold, and familiar: “You have what I want, Jace. The last key. But now you’ll have to survive long enough to use it.”

Daven Carter’s voice. “See you in Dubai… cousin.”