Arthur’s warm smile suddenly stretched into a wide, manic grin that chilled the air.
“How kind of you,” he whispered. “Well then…”
He kicked his battered leather briefcase. The rusty latches snapped, and it fell open against the polished floor with a heavy, echoing thud.
There was no cash inside. No billionaire’s checkbook.
Just a tangled nest of fiber-optic wires, a blinking tactical transmitter, and a massive titanium switch.
Sarah’s polite demeanor evaporated. Her jaw dropped, eyes bulging in absolute terror. The helpless old man wasn’t a secret undercover CEO testing their morals.
He was a phantom. A notorious high-tech cartel ghost the feds had been hunting for a decade.
Arthur flicked the switch.
*BOOM.*
A deafening electromagnetic pulse shattered the showroom’s tranquility. The building’s reinforced steel shutters violently slammed down, sealing every exit in an instant. The overhead lights died, plunging the snobby salesmen into darkness, illuminated only by blinding red emergency strobes.
Suddenly, the engines of forty luxury vehicles roared to life in terrifying, autonomous unison.
The salesmen who had mocked him were now shrieking, trapped behind the deadlocked electronic doors of their glass offices. The driverless supercars revved like caged beasts, tires screaming and smoking on the pristine tiles.
Arthur casually adjusted his ragged collar. He pulled a matte-black hacking fob from his pocket. The $600,000 crimson supercar chirped, its butterfly doors gliding open like wings.
He turned to Sarah, who was completely paralyzed by the cinematic chaos.
“I appreciate your hospitality, Sarah,” Arthur said over the deafening roar of V12 engines. He tossed a vacuum-sealed brick of hundred-dollar bills at her feet.
“You showed respect. So you get to walk.” He winked, sliding into the crimson driver’s seat. “I hear the maintenance entrance is still open.”