Chapter 3 - Into the Viper's Den
The plan was equal parts madness and desperation.
The Sterling Estate was protected by an eight-foot wrought-iron fence, motion sensors, infrared security cameras, and a team of private security guards led by the scarred man who had broken into my apartment—a former mercenary named Kane.
"Rachel is hosting the annual Sterling Foundation Charity Gala tonight," Marcus explained as he laid out a blueprint of the mansion on his desk. "Two hundred high-society guests, caterers, valets, press. It’s the only night of the year the front gates remain open and security is distracted."
"How do we get inside?" I asked, staring at the floor plan.
"You don't go in as a guest," Marcus said, sliding a black uniform across the table. "You go in as part of the high-end catering crew. I bribed the logistics manager of the catering company—a guy who owed me a favor from an old investigation. You'll be on the staff list."
"And you?"
"I'll be in a surveillance van parked half a mile down the ridge, monitoring their security feeds and jamming their local radio frequencies when you make your move," Marcus replied. He handed me a tiny earpiece and an electronic key-card cloner. "Your target isn't the main mansion. Once the party is in full swing at 9:00 PM, you slip past the kitchen, head through the rose garden, and access the storm cellar doors leading to the underground bunker."
I looked at the black uniform, my heart pounding in my ears. I was an assistant manager at a local retail store, not a secret agent. But when I looked at Chloe—who was now sitting on the floor drawing a picture of a little girl holding hands with a shadow labeled "Daddy"—I knew I had no choice.
"What about Chloe?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"My wife, Ellen, is taking her to our cabin in Big Bear," Marcus promised softly, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "No one knows about that cabin. She will be 100% safe, Sarah. I give you my word."
That evening at 7:30 PM, the gates of the Sterling compound swung open for a parade of Ferraris, Bentleys, and Rolls-Royces.
I sat in the back of a silver catering van, my hair pinned up tight under a black skullcap, wearing a crisp white apron over a dark uniform. My earpiece hummed softly.
"Testing, Sarah. Do you read me?" Marcus's voice cracked in my ear.
"I read you," I whispered, pulling my serving gloves tight over my trembling hands.
"Remember, you have a ninety-minute window," Marcus warned. "Once Rachel takes the stage to deliver her keynote speech at 9:15 PM, Kane and his top guards will be clustered around the main terrace. That's your window to move."
The van stopped behind the massive service entrance of the estate. I stepped out into the crisp evening air, pulling a heavy silver tray of champagne flutes out of the back.
The estate was breathtaking—and terrifying. Massive white marble columns stretched up toward the starry sky, manicured lawns rolled down toward lit swimming pools, and wealthy socialites in tuxedos and evening gowns laughed softly while holding crystal glasses.
Standing near the grand staircase, looking like a queen among her subjects, was "Victoria Sterling"—Rachel Collins.
She wore a emerald-green silk dress that clung to her slender frame, her blonde hair styled in a flawless updo, diamond earrings catching the light. She smiled, kissed cheeks, and accepted compliments with practiced grace. Looking at her, no one would ever suspect that beneath her polished exterior lived a cold-blooded killer from a small town in Arkansas who had stolen a dead girl's life.
As I carried my tray through the bustling kitchen, my eyes searched the shadows.
Near the patio doors stood Kane, his scarred face vigilant, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. He was wearing an earpiece, his hand resting casually inside his suit jacket.
"Sarah," Marcus murmured in my ear. "Ten minutes until the speech. Get into position near the east garden door."
"Moving now," I whispered.
I set my tray down on a side table, slipped through a pair of double doors leading into the dark butler’s pantry, and pushed open the heavy wooden service door leading outside.
The cool night wind hit my face. The loud hum of the party faded behind me as I sprinted across the dark grass, hiding in the deep shadows cast by the high hedges of the rose garden.
Three hundred yards ahead, hidden beneath a thick blanket of ivy and heavy oak trees, stood a low concrete structure with a heavy steel door set into the earth.
The bunker.
My hands shook as I pulled out the electronic key-card cloner Marcus had given me.
"I'm at the bunker door," I whispered into my mic.
"Standing by," Marcus replied. "I'm bypassing the door sensor now... three, two, one... go!"
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The electronic lock clicked softly. A green light flashed.
I grabbed the heavy iron handle, pulled the concrete door open, and stepped into the pitch-black darkness below.
