Chapter 9: The Final Play
A New Target
The Vienna skyline stretched before them, bathed in the cold glow of the midnight city. From the rooftop of an abandoned office building, Jasper Hawke scanned the streets below, his grip firm on the silenced pistol holstered at his side.
Evelyn crouched beside him, her laptop balanced on a crate, the small screen flashing with lines of decrypted text.
“I got it,” she whispered, glancing up at Jasper. “Langley’s file—there’s more.”
Moreau, watching the alleyways below, turned. “How bad?”
Evelyn’s face was tight. “Worse than we thought.” She exhaled. “The summit wasn’t just a meeting of intelligence officials. It was a setup—an exchange. The documents Hawke was supposed to retrieve? They were bait.”
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “Bait for what?”
Evelyn hesitated, then tapped a sequence of keys. A new name appeared on the screen.
Adrik Volkov.
Jasper’s pulse quickened. He knew that name. Everyone in covert operations did.
Volkov was a shadow broker, an ex-Russian intelligence operative who had turned mercenary—selling high-level intelligence to the highest bidder. The man was a ghost, moving between continents, always staying one step ahead.
Moreau let out a low whistle. “If Volkov is involved, we’re dealing with a whole different level of trouble.”
Jasper’s mind worked fast. “Where is he now?”
Evelyn adjusted her headset, running a trace. “According to this, he’s flying into Berlin in six hours.”
Jasper met her gaze.
This was their chance.
Volkov wasn’t just a middleman. If anyone knew the real power behind this operation, it was him.
Moreau stretched. “Looks like we’re going to Berlin.”
Jasper stood, his mind already calculating.
One shot.
That’s all they would get.
The Berlin Chase
The plan was simple.
Intercept Volkov at Tempelhof Airfield, where his private jet would land.
Extract the information.
Get out.
But plans never stayed simple.
Jasper, Evelyn, and Moreau moved fast, securing an overwatch position near the abandoned airport terminal. A blacked-out SUV sat idling in the distance, its headlights cutting through the mist.
Volkov’s jet touched down at exactly 3:14 AM.
The moment the plane taxied to a stop, the SUV moved in.
Jasper’s voice was sharp. “That’s not his security detail.”
Evelyn was already scanning. “Multiple heat signatures. Looks like a kill squad.”
Moreau tightened his grip on the sniper rifle. “Do we engage?”
Jasper’s jaw clenched. They weren’t the only ones hunting Volkov.
Before he could answer, the SUV’s doors swung open. Gunfire erupted.
Volkov barely made it down the steps before his guards were cut down. A precise ambush.
Jasper moved. “Cover me.”
Moreau fired the first shot—a clean headshot—sending one of the attackers sprawling. The others scrambled for cover.
Jasper sprinted toward the tarmac, ducking low as bullets whizzed past. He reached Volkov just as the Russian clutched his side, blood seeping through his coat.
The man’s voice was weak but urgent. “Too late… You don’t understand…”
Jasper grabbed him, dragging him toward the cover of a fuel truck. “Then make me understand.”
Volkov coughed, his breathing ragged.
“Voss… was never in control.”
Jasper’s blood ran cold. “Then who is?”
Volkov’s lips parted, forming a name—but a bullet struck his head before he could speak.
Jasper swore, ducking as more rounds hammered into the truck.
Moreau’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Hawke, we need to go!”
Jasper had seconds to act. He grabbed Volkov’s burner phone, pocketing it before dashing back toward Evelyn’s position.
They hit the exit hard, disappearing into the industrial district before reinforcements arrived.
The Final Puzzle Piece
Back at their safehouse, Evelyn worked on cracking Volkov’s phone while Moreau cleaned his weapons.
Jasper paced.
Volkov had been silenced before he could reveal the final piece of the puzzle.
But why?
Evelyn muttered, “Got it.”
Jasper turned sharply. “What?”
She held up the phone, eyes wide. “An encrypted message was set to auto-send if Volkov died.”
Jasper took the device, scrolling through the decrypted text.
His stomach twisted.
The message wasn’t just about stolen intelligence.
It was an invitation.
To a meeting.
At the Grand Palais, Paris.
Jasper’s mind raced. The Grand Palais was hosting an elite private auction that night—one that catered to the world’s most powerful individuals.
And according to the message, the final piece of classified intelligence would be sold there.
Evelyn whispered, “That’s what this was all about.”
Jasper exhaled. The summit, the documents, the betrayals—it all led here.
Moreau smirked. “Then I guess we’re crashing a party.”
Jasper slipped his gun into his holster.
One last mission.
One final chance to end this.
Before it was too late.
