Chapter 16 - The Safehouse in the Pines
While our bird cut through the gale toward the shipping lanes, Arthur remained on the tactical radio from the operations center, relaying decrypts recovered from Derek’s personal laptop, which had been seized during the ballroom arrest.
"Evelyn, you need to hear this," Arthur’s voice crackled through the flight helmets. "Derek didn't just stumble into this Romanian syndicate. He’s been working with a domestic broker named Marcus Vance."
The name sent a shockwave through the cabin.
"Marcus?" I echoed. "Our cousin? Uncle Gerald’s boy?"
"The same," Arthur replied bitterly. "Marcus runs a private maritime logistics firm out of Virginia Beach. He was the one who provided the false bills of lading and the forged naval transfer forms. He’s the broker on the shore side."
"Where is Marcus now?"
"We tracked his burner signal to an isolated property in the pines near Dismal Swamp—a private estate registered under a shell corporation. That’s where the syndicate’s ground coordination cell was operating during the breach on your facility."
I looked across the cabin at Hayes. We were five minutes out from intercepting the *Vanguard Star*, but if the domestic pipeline wasn't severed at the root, Derek’s arrest would only be a temporary victory. The syndicate would simply replace him with Marcus.
"Hayes, can Red Squadron split the element?" I asked.
"Team Leader Miller is onboard the second bird five miles behind us," Hayes answered through the comms. "He’s got eight operators geared for direct action. We can task Miller with hitting the estate while we conduct the visit, board, search, and seizure on the *Vanguard Star*."
"Do it," I ordered. "Patch me through to Miller."
A click sounded on the encrypted channel. "Miller here, Admiral. We read you loud and clear."
"Lieutenant Miller, your target is Marcus Vance at the Dismal Swamp compound," I commanded. "He is actively directing armed foreign combatants on U.S. soil. Treat the structure as an armed hostile redoubt. Secure all hard drives, shipping manifests, and communication logs. Take Marcus into custody."
"Understood, Admiral. Red Squadron Two is breaking formation now. We’ll have the compound breached in four minutes."
I leaned back against the nylon troop seat, watching the dark water of the bay rushing beneath our landing skids through the open side door.
The Vance family had spent decades posturing as the epitome of high-society respectability—generations of wealth, influence, and unassailable prestige. But underneath the bespoke tuxedos and the charity galas, they were nothing more than a cartel of cowards, willing to poison their own patriarch and sacrifice their own children for offshore accounts and unearned vanity.
They had thrown me into the street because I refused to play their petty games of deceit.
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Now, the military machine they had so smugly mocked was coming to tear their rotten empire down to the bedrock.
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