Chapter 7: The Road to Blackwood Point
The black-painted, armored SUV belonging to the tactical team sat idling quietly in the circular driveway, its engine humming with high-performance authority. Arthur slipped behind the steering wheel while Raymond tossed the unconscious operatives into the open trunk, securing the tailgate with a satisfying heavy slam.
“Keys in the ignition and a full encrypted comms suite,” Raymond muttered, sliding into the passenger seat and flicking a toggle switch on the dashboard to route the police scanner through the vehicle’s audio system. “Henderson really didn't expect us to fight back, did he?”
Arthur shifted the heavy vehicle into drive, spinning the steering wheel hard to tear across the pristine gravel driveway, crushing the ornamental flower beds without a second thought. The suburban night rushed past in a blur of amber streetlights as he pushed the SUV well past the speed limit, heading north toward the jagged, fog-shrouded cliffs of Blackwood Point.
“Henderson is arrogant,” Arthur said, his eyes fixed on the winding asphalt road ahead, his grip on the steering wheel steady and unrelenting. “He thinks power comes from files, ledgers, and government oversight. He forgets that power is something you take and hold with blood.”
Raymond turned sideways in his seat, watching his older brother’s stern profile illuminated by the dashboard lights.
“You haven’t changed, Artie. That’s why they were so terrified of you back in Sector Four,” Raymond said softly. “You were always willing to cross the line that the politicians drew in the sand.”
“We crossed it because the politicians lacked the stomach to protect the people behind them,” Arthur replied coldly. “And now they’re using Clara to blackmail a dying man. They miscalculated.”
The radio scanner crackled to life with static, followed by the frantic voice of a local dispatcher reporting an armed standoff and a house fire at the Vance estate, blending seamlessly into the fabricated cover story Henderson’s network had undoubtedly already pushed out to the wire services.
“They’re sanitizing our lives, Artie,” Raymond warned, tapping the encrypted laptop mounted to the center console. “By sunrise, the Vance family legally won't exist anymore. Our assets will be frozen, our properties seized under national security pretexts, and Clara... well, Clara will just be a tragic statistic of a domestic dispute.”
Arthur pressed his foot harder against the accelerator, the engine roaring in response as the SUV tore around a sharp mountain curve, the dark, churning expanse of the ocean appearing far below on their left.
“They can try to erase us,” Arthur said, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous register. “But they’ll have to survive us first.”
Up ahead, the rusted iron gates of Blackwood Point loomed out of the coastal fog, draped in thick, choking ivy and guarded by a pair of modern black security vans parked sideways across the narrow road.
Arthur didn't slow down. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, staring down the headlights at the blockade blocking their path.
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“Hold on,” Arthur muttered.
Raymond grinned, bracing his hands against the dashboard as the armored SUV surged forward like a battering ram, aiming straight for the center of the security checkpoint.
