Chapter 37 - The Iron Convoy
At three in the morning, the storm broke, leaving the alpine world frozen under a canopy of cold, brilliant stars.
Using a cache of tools found in the forestry shed, Daniel and Julian hot-wired an ancient diesel snowcat that had been parked beneath an oil-stained tarp behind the cabin. The heavy machine groaned to life with a cough of black exhaust, its steel treads biting deep into the frozen crust of the mountain pass.
They loaded their small unit into the enclosed cab: Evelyn cradling the baby against her body, Leo monitoring the scanned police frequencies, and Julian riding shotgun with a freshly cleaned semi-automatic rifle across his knees.
Daniel took the controls, maneuvering the heavy tracked vehicle down the logging trails that skirted the primary highway checkpoints.
"Police roadblocks are active at St. Gotthard Pass and the Lucerne south bridge," Leo reported, his eyes glued to the oscillating frequency waves. "They’re stopping every private vehicle. But they aren't scanning the old logging rail lines."
"Good boy," Daniel said, his hand briefly resting on Leo's head. "Keep watching that uplink. Arthur will be communicating with his legal team in Zurich. The moment they file the petition for emergency guardianship, I want to know."
Two hours later, as the dawn light began to bleed pink across the jagged peaks of the Swiss Alps, the snowcat rolled to a halt inside the dense evergreen woods overlooking the eastern shore of Lake Lucerne.
Below them lay the Sterling compound.
It was a sprawling masterpiece of reinforced stone, glass, and iron, nestled on a private peninsula jutting into the dark, glacial waters of the lake. High security towers rose at each corner of the estate, their searchlights sweeping the manicured lawns. A pair of armed patrol boats carved silent white wakes through the black water offshore.
Through a pair of military-grade binoculars, Daniel focused on the private medical wing attached to the estate’s west pavilion.
"There," Daniel muttered, his heart hammering against his ribs.
May you like
In the second-floor window, bathed in the soft blue illumination of intensive care monitors, stood a sterile glass enclosure. Inside it lay another infant—the second brother, guarded by two armed men in private security fatigues.
And standing beside the glass case, leaning heavily on a carved ivory walking stick, was the towering, silver-haired silhouette of Arthur Sterling himself.
