Chapter 7 - Breaking the Syndicate
Derek Vance saw the walls closing in.
He didn't wait for the bailiff to reach the heavy oak double doors. Driven by pure, animal panic, Derek shoved Sterling aside, sending the lawyer sprawling across the petitioner’s table, and bolted toward the secondary exit behind the jury box—a service door leading to the judicial chambers and the emergency stairwell.
"Derek, no!" Vanessa screamed from the table, but her husband didn't look back.
"Stop him!" the bailiff shouted, drawing his taser as Derek slammed his shoulder into the emergency push-bar of the side door. The alarm began to wail—a high-pitched, piercing siren that echoed through the courthouse corridors.
Derek disappeared into the stairwell.
"Hector!" I yelled.
Morales was already moving. Despite his fifty-five years and his bad knee, the former detective moved with explosive speed. We burst through the heavy fire door together, the metal stairs clattering beneath our boots as Derek bounded down the flights like a hunted animal.
"He’s heading for the underground garage!" Morales shouted over the blare of the alarm.
We took the stairs three at a time. The cold, damp air of the subterranean parking level hit us as we kicked open the basement fire door.
Tires were already squealing against the sealed concrete.
Derek had reached his black SUV, parked near the service exit. The engine roared to life with a violent rev, its high beams cutting through the gloom of the underground structure.
He slammed the vehicle into reverse, backing out of the stall at reckless speed, aiming the front bumper straight toward the security barrier that led up to the street.
"Get back!" Morales shouted, reaching for his sidearm.
"Don't shoot!" I warned. "The concrete will ricochet!"
Derek shifted into drive. He didn't swerve toward the exit ramp.
He saw me standing near the stairwell door. In that split second, the desperation in his twisted face gave way to pure malice. If his life was over, he was going to take the man who destroyed it with him.
He floored the accelerator.
The heavy SUV surged forward, tires screaming, the grill rising as the front suspension loaded with horsepower, barreling straight toward me at thirty miles an hour.
I had three seconds.
I didn't try to run laterally—the distance between the concrete pillars was too narrow. Instead, I waited until the front bumper was ten feet away, then threw myself toward the massive, steel-reinforced support pillar on my right.
*CRASH.*
The impact was deafening.
The SUV’s driver-side front quarter struck the concrete pillar with the force of an artillery shell. Glass shattered into a million glittering diamonds across the concrete. The front axle snapped with a metallic shriek, and the driver-side airbag deployed with a loud *bang*, filling the cabin with white chemical smoke.
The vehicle rebounded off the pillar, its engine hissing steam and coolant, the front left wheel wedged uselessly beneath the crushed fender.
I pushed myself up from the concrete floor, my hands scraped and bleeding, my shoulder throbbing where I had hit the floor.
Morales was already at the driver’s side door.
He tore the bent handle open, reached into the smoking cabin, grabbed Derek by the lapels of his suit, and dragged him out through the shattered window frame, slamming him belly-down onto the oil-stained concrete.
"Derek Vance," Morales growled, driving his knee into the small of the younger man's back and clicking the steel cuffs around his wrists with two sharp, metallic snaps. "You have the right to remain silent. And believe me... you’re going to want to use it."
Derek lay face down in the pooling radiator fluid, sobbing, his broken nose bleeding anew onto the concrete.
"It was supposed to be mine," he blubbered, his voice muffled by the oil and dirt. "Mark’s money was supposed to be mine! I’m his brother! Claire didn't deserve it!"
I walked over and stood over him.
"Mark loved his daughter," I said, looking down at the broken, miserable creature at my feet. "And he knew exactly what kind of man you were. That’s why he made sure you couldn't touch a single dollar unless you took her from us."
I turned my back on him.
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"You’re done, Derek. It’s over."
***
