Chapter 38 - The Roadblock on the Cobblestones
The two black SUVs sat idling twenty feet outside my courtyard gate, their exhaust pluming gray into the warm afternoon air[cite: 7].
Standing on the cobblestone pavement, wearing her black riding coat and leather gloves, was Victoria Sterling-De La Vega[cite: 7].
Beside her stood four private security operators in dark suits and earpieces, holding unsealed red administrative binders backed by the coat of arms of the Canton of Geneva[cite: 7].
Standing on the passenger running board was a private civil bailiff wearing a formal gray morning coat and holding a gilded execution wand[cite: 7].
Victoria tapped the wrought-iron gate with the silver handle of her riding crop[cite: 7].
"Mrs. Overstreet!" Victoria called out, her voice projecting with icy, aristocratic superiority through the iron grille[cite: 7]. "The time for provincial resistance has concluded[cite: 7]."
She held a certified French-language document flat against the bars.
"Pursuant to an Emergency Letter of Sequestration issued two hours ago by the Commercial Tribunal of Geneva, this property is placed under diplomatic extraterritorial seal[cite: 7]."
She pointed to the two Portuguese military engineers standing on my terrace[cite: 7].
"Any civilian or military personnel attempting to remove historical sovereign assets from this parcel are subject to immediate detention under the European Extradition Convention," Victoria announced[cite: 7].
She smiled—that razor-thin, patronizing smile that ran through the Hayes and Sterling bloodlines like a generational disease[cite: 7].
"Open the gate, Diane[cite: 7]. Surrender the gold keys to the bailiff, and my trust will authorize a lifetime fifty-thousand-dollar annual pension for your retirement[cite: 7]. Refuse, and you spend your seventy-third year in a federal prison cell in Bern[cite: 7]."
I walked across the sunlit flagstones of my terrace, my posture upright, my hands resting calmly inside the pockets of my wool cardigan[cite: 7].
In my right pocket rested the velvet pouch containing Leonard's two gold keys[cite: 7].
In my left rested his quartz signet ring[cite: 7].
Behind me, Commander Cruz stepped to the gate, adjusting the lapels of her dark blazer to reveal the gold diplomatic badge pinned above her heart[cite: 7].
"You are fifty miles outside your legal jurisdiction, Miss De La Vega," Cruz stated, her voice cutting through the idling engines like a chilled knife[cite: 7].
Victoria scoffed, looking at Cruz with haughty amusement[cite: 7].
"A foreign naval attaché has zero standing in a private commercial property attachment, Commander," Victoria dismissed[cite: 7]. "The Portuguese Ministry of Justice was notified of this enforcement action thirty minutes ago[cite: 7]."
"The Portuguese Ministry of Justice didn't authorize your enforcement, Victoria," a loud, authoritative voice boomed from the lane behind her[cite: 7].
A convoy of four marked vehicles from the Guarda Nacional Republicana rolled smoothly into the narrow lane, completely boxing in the two Swiss SUVs bumper-to-bumper[cite: 7].
Major Paulo Silva, the regional commander for the Leiria district, stepped out of the lead cruiser, his olive-drab uniform immaculate, his service sidearm resting securely in its holster[cite: 7].
He walked straight up to Victoria Sterling-De La Vega, pulling a certified judicial order bearing the red seal of the Portuguese Constitutional Court from his leather folio[cite: 7].
"Senhora De La Vega," Major Silva announced in crisp, flawless English[cite: 7]. "At one o'clock this afternoon, the Supreme Judicial Court in Lisbon quashed your administrative sequestration order as an active violation of sovereign territorial law[cite: 7]."
Major Silva looked down over his spectacles at the stunned Swiss bailiff[cite: 7].
"Your execution wand has no authority on Portuguese soil, sir," Silva stated coldly[cite: 7]. "You have five minutes to clear these vehicles from this municipal roadway, or my officers will impound your transport for obstructing a diplomatic convoy[cite: 7]."
Victoria’s pale gray eyes went wide with disbelieving, venomous rage[cite: 7].
"This is an international treaty asset!" she shrieked, her aristocratic facade disintegrating into raw, rat-like panic[cite: 7]. "The Overstreet estate defaulted on sixty billion dollars in commercial maritime infrastructure[cite: 7]!"
"The Overstreet estate defaulted on nothing, Victoria," I said, stepping right up to the iron gate until my eyes were three inches from hers[cite: 7].
I pulled the velvet pouch from my cardigan, letting the heavy gold keys clink softly against each other through the fabric[cite: 7].
May you like
"The keys are in my hands[cite: 7]. And I will see you in Geneva before the sun sets on Friday[cite: 7]."
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