Victor sat across the table from Lord Hardy; and laid before them was the chess board with the pawns scattered across.
Victor had made deliberate efforts not to defeat his host and he stuck to losing rather than outshining his host.
He had just finished telling the story of his failed marriage, the divorce and ruthlessness of Vera's family, and the murder setup that sent him fleeing like a criminal he was not.
Hardy leaned forward, tapping the rim of his glass. "You've been through hell, Victor. But I'll help you."
Victor's gaze lit up like a sinner being promised salvation.
"Your experience as a security agent could save you; and me too." Lord Hardy paused. "I'm offering power."
Victor's brow raised slightly, they were heavier than last month. Cancer was an invisible weight.
Hardy began. "There's a deal going on at the very top. A shady one, Between President Duke and Senator Stone. You've heard of them?"
Victor nodded once.
"They've been bleeding the country for years. Fake firms, contracts that don't exist, and billions parked in secret accounts overseas. But Stone got clever. Compiled everything onto one drive; names, numbers, every dirty offshore route."
Victor's eyes narrowed. "And let me guess, you have this drive?"
From the folds of his golden robe, Hardy pulled out a small flash drive and tossed it onto the table.
"That contains something worth trillions, estates and business catalogs all over America. A backdoor code. But it needs to be remotely uploaded into a specific government server, quietly and on time."
Victor didn't speak, letting the words hang.
Hardy leaned forward. "Once it's in, all those billions get redirected. Diverted from the president's slush funds… straight into my channels and yours."
Victor blinked. "Mine?"
Hardy poured another drink. "You'll get a cut. Not pocket change either, enough to become untraceable and turn you to a billionaire."
Victor hesitated. "Why me?"
"Because I can't risk anyone in my circle. And let's be honest, nobody's looking at you right now. You're a ghost, a man with nothing to lose."
Victor stared at it. "And if I fail?"
Hardy shrugged. "Then we both go down. But I think you won't." Then he assured me. "It's the only way, my boy, You're the only one who can pull this off. You've got the training... and nothing to lose."
"The catalog on this drive has been re-coded. The moment it touches the Presidential server, it'll trigger a silent transfer, redirecting funds to accounts I control. And a sizable cut… will go to you."
He paused. "I'm giving you something worth dying for, Victor. A clean slate. Power. Revenge. You help me pull this off, and by morning, you'll be one of the richest men in the country."
Victor didn't answer immediately. He stared at the flash drive, as if seeing a crossroads. Then, slowly, he looked up. He was in.
Later in the evening, Tape handed him a note. Kate Hardy wanted to meet him by the pool, maybe for a drink, or maybe for something else.
He had noticed her flirtatious moves but had casually dismissed it. One of women's guiles. Undoubtedly, she was beautiful; smooth skinned, dark hair with curls, eyes that could force you to confess if you looked long enough, and a smile that was forged in Aphrodite's bosom.
Victor shook himself off the wild imagination, this wasn't the time to bask in the euphoria of a woman's beauty.
One hour before the operation, Victor stepped out to access the location of the kidnapped politician who had escaped. The location Isabella had given him still rang loudly in his memory.
He reached the lonely street...and suddenly, nemesis emerged; Julius Pager and his crew sprung from the shadows and surrounded him like a curse.
Victor reached for a weapon, but a blow landed from behind. He staggered, dazed. The flash drive, phone and wallet were snatched from his pocket and darkness took him as intermittent blows struck.
Back at the estate, Lord Hardy was pacing. The server was ready, masked IPs and proxies in place. Investors were waiting for confirmation. His Chief, Bush Rod stood in the corner, arms crossed.
"Where the hell is he?" Hardy growled. "Time is running out."
His voice was cold with dread and frustration. Maybe Victor ran or maybe he was dead.
But many miles away from Lord Hardy stood a warehouse where his redemption, Victor, was bound and gagged like a stolen commodity. Blood running down the side of his face where Julius had struck him. His vision swam, his head pounded like a zulu drum.
Julius's voice echoed faintly from outside the room, barking orders to someone. "Yes…the sooner you make my transfer, the better. He is wanted by the state, he murdered someone in the government."
Victor surveyed his surroundings and survival instincts kicked in.
He twisted his wrists amid pain until the rope caught a nail. It took ten painful minutes, but the rope eventually gave out. He slipped free and limped to the panel by the floor. Inside, he found a rusted pipe. Not ideal, but enough.
Creeping silently like a cat through the dark corridor, a guard leaned in to check if he was conscious and he slammed the pipe into the man's throat. Bloodied and half-limping, he searched his pockets and miraculously found his flash drive.
Time was running out.
Outside, he hotwired the old delivery truck, the engine coughing to life and he drove like hell through narrow streets, hunched on the wheel with a walk grip, the wind biting into his wounds. The presidential server was hosted in a private tech hub disguised as a data center downtown.
He had two minutes.
He reached the compound, hopped the side gate, and snuck through the utility entrance. The guards were changing shifts, luck, finally.
At his hotel suite, Lord Hardy had almost smashed the screen of his tablet in frustration.
"The stock price is dropping," murmured Chief Bush. "Sir, investors are pulling out."
Lord Hardy exploded. "Do I look blind!?"
He turned away from the screens in a final show of resignation and just then, an alert blinked on the server monitor.
UNKNOWN DEVICE CONNECTED.
"Wait…" Bush stepped closer.
Lord Hardy leaned in. "Is it him?"
The screen began filling with lines of code as the backdoor injection began to deploy.
"Yes. It's him," Bush whispered. "He's doing it."
Hardy watched in awe as money poured into his offshore accounts, stock prices surged, and encrypted contracts auto-executed in a flurry of silent brilliance.
He smiled darkly. "Victor just became one of the richest men in the country."
A wild smile lifted up his face and he heaved a sigh of relief.
Back at the server, Victor had skillfully escaped the exit into the street where Lily and Tape drove out to pick him up.
"How did you find me?" Victor asked.
Tape grinned. "Dude, your GPS wasn't as off as you thought. You're welcome."
Lily looked him over, her expression softening. "Man, you look like a horror straight out of a ghost movie."
Victor ignored her, he winced in pain and his breathing was as heavy as a pilgrim on steroids.
"You good?" Lily asked.
"No," Victor muttered. "But it's done."
As Tape swerved a corner, the world became a void of darkness — Victor passed out.