Page 145 of Blind Prophet

DORIAN

“I won’t do anything until I see Caroline.” My voice is steel, leaving no room for negotiation.

The screen flickers, a shift in scenery, to Caroline bound and gagged in dim light, a black box device with red letters straight out of a film strapped to her middle, but I shake my head.

“No. In person.” I hold the suited man’s gaze, unwavering.

There’s no way in hell I’ll comply with any of Geoffrey’s requests, but one thing is certain: if I stand a chance of seeing Caroline again, this is the moment to fight.

He says he’s willing to kill me, but he hopes for a pawn in the White House. And for that, he needs me to be amenable.

“I foresaw this scenario,” Geoffrey states, sounding almost bored, his words muted through the headset. “When you exit the room, we will take you to see her. Instruct Ryan Wolfgang and his colleagues that you will no longer require their assistance.”

I remove the headset and step out of the building to where Ryan and his team are waiting. While I hold up one hand to Ryan, acknowledging him and telling him to stay back, I tap out SOS in Morse code against my leg with the index finger of my other hand.

Ryan stills and gives an almost imperceptible nod.

He couldn’t have heard anything Geoffrey said through the headphones, but he’s aware that something occurred in the closed room. If he didn’t correctly read my finger movements, someone going over the video after we’ve left will interpret them. There are security cameras on the eaves of the building, and if there are questions, Arrow will hack into the feed.

I step out onto the tarmac and climb into the awaiting S-76D helicopter.

The armed suit climbs in beside me. “When we return, you’ll fly to DC.”

I neither confirm nor refute his statement, instead shifting to stare out the window.

As expected, we set across the Pacific, leaving the United States behind. Through the window, the coastline disappears beneath us. No witnesses. No jurisdiction. Perfect for whatever Geoffrey has planned.

The suit beside me remains vigilant, his hand never far from his weapon. While I could overpower him and the pilot and take control of the helicopter myself, the image of Caroline with a bomb strapped to her body stops me cold. Knowing what I know now, I’m almost positive it’s an altered video, perhaps entirely generated by AI, but for now, I play along.

But once I get to her, all bets are off.

Geoffrey may have studied me, but he’s seriously underestimated me. He believes I’ve lived my life doing as Dad wished and that he can step into our father’s shoes and force me to do his bidding. But he’s wrong—on both counts.

We fly for approximately forty minutes. I track the time on my watch.

A Feadship mega yacht materializes through the marine haze, its 70-meter hull gleaming like a predator’s smile. The Dutch engineering is unmistakable—clean, modern, and built for serious ocean capability. This isn’t just luxury; it’s a floating fortress designed for escape and evasion.

By the waterline mark, she’s running light, maybe 60 percent fuel capacity—the sweet spot for both range and speed. Speed is a necessity to outrun coastal patrols.

If Caroline is on this ship, that video is definitely a deep fake. Detonating a bomb on a ship is suicide.

But what if she’s not on this ship? What if this is another lie?

That’s the problem.

I have no reason to trust this bastard.

What if all of this comes down to a child who believes he was shunned now wanting power? The thing is, Dad didn’t shun him. He kept him close to his side.

Did Geoffrey come up with this plan all on his own? He mentioned he’s built a network of his own. How well-formed is his network? Is he the leader, or is he one of several, another group of men working together in an alliance like the syndicate? Is he being played? Being set up to be the fall guy, one piece in a broader, longer-term strategy?

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who is leading whom. There’s right and there’s wrong. And Geoffrey chose wrong.

Stalin once said that death is the solution to all problems. No man, no problem. It’s tempting to agree with him. But time has proven Stalin wrong. Good exists, even in man. It’s a matter of valuing the good and exposing the evil.

The S-76D settles onto the yacht’s helipad, its skids connecting with the deck’s pressure sensors. Four pop-up security cameras track our landing: Axis Q6215-LE models, if I’m not mistaken. Military-grade surveillance.

At the armed suit’s instruction, I release the five-point harness and exit, cataloging details. No visible crew. Two covered RHIBs mounted on the stern davits, the yacht’s quick escape vessels. The SATCOM dome is a newer VS240, capable of maintaining broadband connection even in rough seas. Which means they’ve got real-time communications despite being well outside coastal range.

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