Chapter 17 - Shadows of the MotherThe underground coal tunnel was cold, pitch-black, and smelled of earth and damp stone.
Adrian led the way with his tactical light, keeping his weapon raised. Behind him, Scott limped with heavy breaths, supported by Marcus, while Anna held Leo close in the middle of their tight formation.
Ten minutes of grueling walking brought them to an opening concealed by dense thickets in a dry riverbed. Outside, the night sky was stained red by the towering plume of fire rising from the burning cabin a quarter-mile away.
"They'll think we burned inside," Marcus said, scanning the dark woods with his rifle. "At least for an hour until they clear the rubble."
"They won't stay around long," Scott said, pulling out a hardened satellite phone. He checked the live tracking feed he had planted on Charles’s legal team. "Charles just paid off a private charter runway at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey. He has an executive Gulfstream fueled and waiting."
"He’s fleeing the country," Anna realized, her hand covering her mouth. "If he leaves U.S. airspace, his offshore bank networks will lock out federal jurisdiction."
"He's not going alone," Adrian said coldly, looking down at his phone. A encrypted text message had just bypassed his firewall.
The text was simple: Save me, Adrian. He’s taking me with him.
It was signed Mom.
Adrian's chest tightened. Eleanor Whitmore—his fragile, elegant mother—was being dragged aboard that plane as Charles's ultimate human shield and bargaining chip.
"Charles knows the SEC and the FBI have warrants out for him," Adrian spat, his jaw clenching tightly. "He's using Mom to force us into a corner. If we attack the plane, he threatens her. If we let him fly, she dies in some private compound in South America."
Scott placed a firm hand on Adrian's shoulder. "Then we don't give him a choice. We take Teterboro before he reaches thirty thousand feet."
"How?" Marcus asked. "Teterboro security is tight, and Charles has whatever is left of The Vanguard guarding that hangar."
Scott smiled—a sharp, brilliant expression that belonged to the genius tech mogul who had once disrupted global infrastructure.
"The Vanguard relies on modern avionics, encrypted satellite feeds, and digital flight controls," Scott said. "They forgot that I wrote the underlying flight navigation code for the FAA twelve years ago."
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Scott flipped open his portable terminal, overriding the cell link through a satellite uplink.
"I'm locking down Teterboro Air Traffic Control," Scott declared, his fingers flying across the keys. "No lights. No radar. No jet takes off from that runway tonight unless I say so."
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