Chapter 6 - Unmasking the Syndicate
We had twenty minutes before the heavy units arrived.
Richard Vance was not a man to leave loose ends untied. If four private operators failed to secure the asset, the next wave would not be private contractors; it would be compromised county sheriffs armed with search warrants, or an elite tier of corporate security authorized to use scorched-earth measures.
We loaded the three surviving contractors into the root cellar beneath the cabin, secured the heavy iron hatch with two logging chains, and padlocked them inside with three gallons of water and their own field dressings.
“They’ll be found in two days when the forest service does its weekly fire-break patrol,” I said.
We abandoned the Tahoe. In the old equipment barn behind the timber stand sat my father’s 1988 Ford F-250—an ancient, diesel-powered beast with mechanical fuel injection, dual fuel tanks, no onboard computer, and zero microchips to track. I had kept the batteries on a trickle charger and the fuel treated with stabilizer for five years.
The old engine turned over with a deep, guttural roar that rattled the corrugated tin roof.
We placed Katherine on the bench seat between Hector and me. Dave Harris took the wheel.
“Where are we going, ma’am?” Harris asked as we crawled through the fire trails toward Highway 109, running without headlights through the dense pine canopy. “We can't go to Fort Liberty. If the Department of Defense is compromised at the deputy secretary level, they’ll confine you to quarters the moment you cross the gate.”
“We aren't going to the Army,” I said, looking down at the micro-SD card in my lap. “We are going to Raleigh.”
“The State Capitol?”
“The United States Attorney for the Eastern District of North Carolina,” I said. “Sarah Vance-Montgomery.”
Hector frowned, turning his head. “Vance? She’s family?”
“She’s Richard Vance’s estranged sister,” I said. “Thirty years ago, Richard pushed her out of the family trust because she refused to help him shield their father’s offshore tax shelters. She put three state senators in federal prison five years ago for procurement fraud. If there is one person in this state who cannot be bought, intimidated, or sweet-talked by Richard Vance, it is Sarah.”
Katherine leaned her head against my shoulder, her voice small and frail. “Mom… Julian will be at the Vance Foundation Gala tonight. It’s their annual charity ball at the Ritz-Carlton in uptown Charlotte. My father-in-law is announcing his candidacy for the United States Senate at midnight.”
The puzzle pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity.
The urgency. The forged commitment papers. The rush to silence Katherine before the weekend.
Richard Vance wasn't just running a criminal pharmaceutical operation; he was preparing to step onto the national political stage. A scandal involving contaminated antibiotics and domestic battery would destroy his Senate campaign before the launch party had even finished its champagne toast.
“What time does the gala start?” I asked.
“Eight o'clock tonight,” Katherine whispered. “Julian is supposed to take the stage with him. They’re going to announce that I couldn't attend because of an unexpected illness. They’ve already prepared the press releases.”
I looked at the digital clock on the Ford’s steel dashboard: 04:30.
We had sixteen hours.
“Dave,” I said.
“Ma’am?”
“Turn the truck west. We’re not going to Raleigh yet.”
Hector’s eyebrows shot up. “Colonel? You just said Sarah Montgomery was in Raleigh.”
“She is,” I said. “And we will send her the files via a secure military courier from the reserve station in Greensboro. But Julian Vance is going to stand on that stage tonight in Charlotte. He is going to smile for the cameras, drink his vintage wine, and tell five hundred of the most powerful people in the South that his wife is resting comfortably at home.”
My hand dropped to the dress uniform jacket folded neatly across my knees—the black fabric, the gold buttons, the ribbons representing thirty years of honor, sacrifice, and blood.
May you like
“He took my daughter’s dignity,” I said, every word hitting like a hammer strike. “He bruised her flesh. He tried to lock her in a cage so he could play the prince of Charlotte. I am not going to let him hide behind a press release.”
***
