Chapter 19 - The Price of Patronage
"Step away from the vehicle, Eleanor," General Hayes commanded, stepping into the edge of the light, his rifle resting steadily in the crook of his arm. "Your immunity is revoked. Deputy Undersecretary Vance is being placed under immediate arrest for high treason, conspiracy to defraud the United States, and the murder of American service members."
Vance slowly emerged from behind the open door of the vehicle, his face pale, but his posture stubbornly defiant. He held up a black leather binder.
"You don't have the authority, Tom," Vance shouted over the whine of the engines. "The Secretary of Defense is on an aircraft over the Atlantic. The President has been briefed that a rogue element led by a compromised field officer—Colonel Carter—has attempted a mutiny on this base. By morning, you will all be facing court-martial for an armed insurrection."
"There won't be a morning for you, Vance," I said, walking slowly toward the ramp, the water splashing under my boots with every deliberate step. "The flight manifests from the staging base in Jordan didn't go through your encrypted server. They were mirrored onto a physical black box kept by the 3rd Armored Division. Captain Miller uploaded the mirror to the Inspector General's office twenty minutes ago, right before you cut the base power."
Vance’s face collapsed. He turned sharply to look at Eleanor, his composure completely shattering. "You said you had the physical copies locked in the foundation vault! You swore to me the paper trail was closed!"
Eleanor didn't answer him. Her cold, gray eyes never left my face. She pulled her wet fur coat tighter around her throat, stepping past Vance as if he were nothing more than an insolent servant who had dropped a tea tray.
"Marcus," she said, her voice dropping into that quiet, venomous tone she reserved for when we were alone behind closed doors at the family estate. "Do you think the world is run by men who follow the rules? Your father was a weak, pathetic moralist who died with two hundred dollars in his checking account and an honorable discharge that couldn't pay the property taxes on our home. I built the Carter name into something that prime ministers and senators respect. I bought your brother's commission. I secured your promotions!"
"You didn't secure my promotion, Mother," I said, my weapon never wavering from her chest. "General Hayes pinned these eagles to my shoulders because my men died while you were laundering stolen munitions money."
She laughed—a dry, brittle sound that was immediately swallowed by the howl of the storm. "Your men were soldiers, Marcus! They signed up to be tools of policy! What does it matter whether they died from a mortar shell bought by our enemies or a logistics failure arranged by our friends? The outcome is the same! The money rebuilt this family!"
Behind me, the sound of splashing boots approached. Daniel had crawled out of the truck. He stood at the edge of the light, drenched, his uniform covered in mud, staring at his mother with the horrified expression of a child whose god had just transformed into a demon.
May you like
"Mother..." Daniel whimpered.
Eleanor glanced at him, her lip curling in absolute, unadulterated disgust. "Shut up, Daniel. You are as weak as your father was. Look at you. Sniveling in the mud like a dog."
