Ron Donaldo: Rise Of The Apex Don

Chapter 27

Griggs walked slowly down the hallway toward the master bedroom. His heavy shoes made no sound on the thick carpet. 

He stopped at the locked wooden door. He pulled a small silver key from his pocket. He pushed the key into the lock. 

Click. 

Griggs turned the handle and pushed the door open. 

The bedroom was empty. 

Griggs raised his pistol. He stepped into the room, pointing the gun at the bed, then at the closet. He heard the loud sound of rushing water coming from the bathroom. 

He smiled a cruel, cold smile. He walked slowly toward the open bathroom door. He raised his gun, aiming right at the center of the doorway. He was ready to shoot the moment he saw her. 

He stepped into the bathroom. 

Theresa was sitting on the floor in the corner, holding her knees. She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. 

"Time to say goodbye, Mrs. Sterling," Griggs said. He aimed the black gun directly at her face. His finger tightened on the trigger. 

FIP.

A tiny, sharp sound cut through the noise of the rushing water. 

Griggs stopped. His pale blue eyes went wide with shock. His finger froze on the trigger. He looked down at his own chest. 

A small, silver dart was sticking out of his expensive gray suit, right over his heart. 

Griggs opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His eyes rolled back into his head. His arms went completely limp. The heavy black gun fell from his hand and hit the marble floor with a loud clatter. 

Griggs collapsed forward, hitting the ground like a sack of rocks. He did not move. 

Theresa screamed and covered her head. She waited for the other guards to run into the room. 

But nobody came. 

A shadow moved in the doorway. 

Theresa looked up. 

A man was standing over Griggs’s body. He did not look like a killer. He did not look like a monster. 

He was a tall, very thin man. He had neat, short gray hair. He wore a perfectly normal, boring brown suit with a plain white shirt and a gray tie. He wore round glasses. He looked exactly like a high school math teacher. 

He held a small, black tube in his right hand. It was a high-tech dart gun. 

This was Vane. The Fixer. 

"Hello, Theresa," Vane said. His voice was just as boring and flat in real life as it was on the phone. "You can stand up now."

Theresa shook with fear. She pushed herself up from the floor. "The... the other guards," she stammered. "There are three more outside!"

Vane adjusted his round glasses. "No. There are not."

Theresa carefully stepped over Griggs’s sleeping body. She walked out of the bathroom. She walked down the hallway into the massive living room. 

She gasped. 

The three heavily armed guards were lying on the white marble floor. They were not bleeding. There were no bullet holes. They simply had small silver darts sticking out of their necks and chests. They were completely unconscious. 

Vane had broken into the most secure penthouse in the city. He had neutralized four highly trained mercenaries. And he had not made a single sound. He had not broken a single window. He was a perfect, silent ghost. 

"It is a fast-acting neurotoxin," Vane explained, walking into the living room behind her. He carefully put the black dart gun into his briefcase. "They will sleep for exactly twelve hours. When they wake up, they will have a very bad headache, and they will remember nothing."

Theresa looked at Vane with complete awe. "How did you get past the lobby security? How did you get up the private elevator?"

"I am an expert in counter-insurgency, Theresa," Vane said simply. "Security is just a puzzle. And I am very good at puzzles. I used a maintenance uniform, a cloned keycard, and the air vents. It took me six minutes."

Vane walked to the massive glass window. He looked out over the black, dead city of Oakhaven. 

"The Director’s blackout was a very smart move," Vane noted. "It causes chaos. But it also creates perfect cover for moving in the dark. We need to leave before The Director realizes his men are sleeping."

"Take me to the airport," Theresa said quickly. "Get me a private plane. I will transfer the ten million dollars as soon as we are in the air."

Vane turned around to face her. His eyes behind the round glasses were completely cold. They had no emotion. No anger, no happiness, no greed. Just calculation. 

"I cannot take you to the airport, Theresa," Vane said flatly. 

Theresa froze. "What? Why? That was the deal!"

"The deal was to get you out of the building and stop the people hunting you," Vane corrected her. "If you run to the airport now, you will die. The Director has men at every airstrip. Ron Donaldo has his Iron Legion watching the roads. If you run, they will catch you."

"Then what do we do?" Theresa demanded, her voice rising in panic. 

Vane walked to the white leather sofa. He picked up his plain brown leather briefcase. He opened it and pulled out a small, sleek laptop. He set it on the glass coffee table and opened the screen. 

"In counter-insurgency, you do not run from the enemy," Vane explained in his boring teacher voice. "If the enemy is hunting you, you use that to your advantage. You set a trap. You make the enemy walk exactly where you want them to go."

Vane looked at Theresa. "Ron Donaldo wants revenge. He wants a public confession from you. That makes him predictable. He is a Warlord, but he is acting on emotion. Emotion is a weakness."

"You want to use me as bait," Theresa realized. Her stomach twisted. "You want me to stand in the open so Ron comes for me!"

"Yes," Vane said simply. "I will prepare a kill-box. A perfect trap. When Ron’s men attack to capture you, I will neutralize them. I will neutralize the Apex. Once Ron is dead, The Director will have no reason to hunt you, because you can simply give him Ron’s stolen lithium as a peace offering."

Theresa hated the idea. She hated being bait. But she had no choice. She was trapped between two massive monsters, and Vane was her only shield. 

"Okay," Theresa whispered. "Okay, we set a trap. Where?"

"I have already selected a location," Vane said. He tapped a key on his laptop. 

The screen glowed brightly in the dim room. A map of the city appeared. Vane pointed to an old, abandoned industrial park on the edge of the river. 

"It is a choke point," Vane explained. "There is only one bridge in, and one bridge out. When Ron’s trucks cross the bridge, I will blow the supports. They will be trapped. Then, my private snipers will eliminate his men one by one."

Theresa looked at the map. It was a brilliant plan. It was cold, logical, and perfect. 

"You really are the best," Theresa said, feeling a tiny spark of hope. "You are going to kill the King of The Pit."

Vane did not smile. He typed a few more buttons on his keyboard to set up his communication network. 

Suddenly, Vane stopped typing. He stared at his laptop screen. 

Theresa saw Vane’s boring, emotionless face change. For the first time, Vane’s eyes widened slightly. His jaw tightened. 

"What is it?" Theresa asked, stepping closer to the table. "Is there a problem?"

The digital map of the city on Vane’s laptop had vanished. 

The screen was completely black. Then, bright green text began to type across the center of the black screen, letter by letter. 

Theresa leaned in and read the words. Her blood ran absolutely freezing cold. 

The green text said: 

HELLO VANE. I SEE YOU FOUND MY WIFE. I AM WAITING FOR YOU AT THE RIVER.

Vane stared at the screen. The Warlord had not fallen into the trap. The Warlord had already hacked Vane’s secure, encrypted laptop. Ron already knew the plan, he already knew the location, and he was inviting them to come. 

"He is not a hammer," Vane whispered, pushing his round glasses up his nose. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of Vane’s face. "He is a grandmaster."

Theresa looked at the screen, then at the dark city outside the window. 

Ron was out there. In the dark. And he was always one step ahead. 

"Pack your things, Theresa," Vane said. His voice was no longer boring. It was tight with real danger.