"Julian Drake," Arthur repeated the name slowly, feeling the weight of the threat. "He was the architect of Victoria's physical security networks. If he is in the city, he isn't just taking pictures, Ethan. He is building an operational file on our daily routines."
"I want to put private security on you and Clara starting tomorrow morning," Ethan insisted. "Two bodyguards each, around the clock."
Arthur held up a hand, shaking his head firmly. "No, Ethan. Surrounding ourselves with armed guards will only broadcast fear. It tells Drake that his psychological tactics are working. Furthermore, bodyguards won't stop a man trained in intelligence gathering—they will only make him change his methods to something more covert."
"Then what do we do, Dad?" Ethan asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "We can't just sit here and wait for him to strike!"
Arthur walked over to his desk, picking up a small leather-bound pocket notebook. He flipped through the pages, stopping at a section filled with meticulous handwritten notes from years past.
"Drake is an operative who relies on routine and predictability," Arthur said, his eyes sharp with legal intellect. "He expects us to react like victims—either by hiding behind bodyguards or panicking. Instead, we give him what he wants, but on our terms."
"An ambush?"
"A controlled environment," Arthur corrected. "Thirty years ago, when I tried high-stakes corporate litigation against corrupt union bosses, they used men like Drake to intimidate my witnesses. You don't fight a shadow by swinging in the dark, Ethan. You turn on a light so bright that the shadow has nowhere to hide."
Chapter 35: The bait and the Trap
The plan took shape over the next forty-eight hours. Rather than altering their schedules, the Sterling family maintained their normal routines with deliberate precision, giving Drake every opportunity to observe them.
On Friday night, Arthur was scheduled to give a keynote address at the annual Legal Ethics Gala held at the Grand Regency Hotel downtown—a high-profile event attended by hundreds of judges, prosecutors, and civic leaders.
Marcus confirmed that Drake had spent the afternoon scouting the hotel's layout, securing a vantage point from an upper balcony overlooking the main ballroom.
"Drake thinks this event is his best opportunity to deliver a direct message," Marcus reported to Ethan via a encrypted radio earpiece as Ethan stood in the hotel lobby dressed in a tuxedo. "He’s inside the building, disguised as part of the audiovisual technical crew."
"Is Detective Vance in position?" Ethan asked quietly, keeping his eyes moving across the crowded lobby.
"Vance and four plainclothes officers are stationed at every service exit," Marcus replied. "If Drake moves toward the main floor, we have him trapped."
Inside the ballroom, Arthur took the podium. The room fell silent as the elder Sterling adjusted his microphone, his voice echoing clearly through the grand hall.
"Ethics," Arthur began, his tone resonant and commanding, "is not merely a set of rules we follow when the world is watching. It is the core of who we are when we believe we are in total darkness."
High above the crowd, tucked inside the darkened lighting booth on the mezzanine level, Julian Drake adjusted his telephoto lens, aiming it directly at Arthur's chest. He pulled out a small electronic device—a high-powered radio frequency jammer designed to disrupt the hotel's security feeds while he slipped out undetected.
Chapter 36: Confrontation high above
Ethan didn't wait for the speech to conclude. While Arthur held the audience's attention below, Ethan and Marcus navigated the carpeted back stairwells leading up to the mezzanine level.
They moved quietly, keeping low as they reached the service corridor behind the lighting booth. Through the narrow door window, Ethan could see the back of Drake's head, his neck tattoo clearly visible under the booth's red running lights.
Ethan placed his hand on the brass door handle, taking a slow, steady breath. Three years ago, he would have kicked the door open in a blind rage, screaming accusations and making reckless physical contact. Today, he was controlled, calm, and deliberate.
Ethan pushed the door open smoothly, stepping into the booth without a sound. Marcus followed behind, holding a camera device of his own.
"You're taking pictures from the wrong angle, Mr. Drake," Ethan said calmly, his voice cutting through the hum of the electronic equipment.
Drake spun around with military speed, his hand reaching instinctively toward the inside pocket of his jacket. But before he could draw whatever weapon he carried, Marcus raised a high-intensity LED strobe light, flashing it directly into Drake's eyes.
Blinded temporarily, Drake stumbled back against the control console, knocking over a rack of audio monitors with a loud crash.
"Don't move," Detective Vance’s voice boomed from the secondary exit door as he and two uniformed officers burst into the booth, guns raised and aimed. "Hands where we can see them, Drake! On your knees!"