The Million Dollar Bluff
Jack and his remaining two men burst into the Grand Atrium, expecting to find a crowd of terrified millionaires. Instead, the hall was empty. In the center, sitting behind the marble bar, was a single man. He was calmly swirling a drink, glancing at his watch.
“Who are you? Where is everyone?” Jack leveled his rifle at Nathan’s chest. Nathan slowly looked up. His eyes held no fear—only a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. “You know, Jack,” Nathan said, using the name he’d intercepted over the radio, “Today is my anniversary.
My wife and I planned this dinner for three years. And then you show up and ruin the mood.”
Jack flinched. How did this old man know his name? “Shut up! Where is the vault?” “The vault?” Nathan smirked. “Jack, look around. Do you really think I’m alone? There are twenty plainclothes operators on this ship.
Your men on the upper deck? Already neutralized. You hear that silence? It’s not because we’re hiding. It’s because we’re waiting for you to get close enough.”
Nathan pressed a button on the bar’s hidden panel. The strobe lights from the ship’s emergency system began to fire—thousands of blinding flashes per second. Jack screamed, firing wildly, but Nathan was already over the bar. Using a high-pressure CO2 canister meant for the soda lines, he blasted the pirates with a freezing, blinding cloud.
Under the cover of the strobes, Nathan moved like a ghost. Three minutes later, the remaining hijackers were face-down on the floor, disoriented and bound.