Chapter 15
Before the tactical operators could take another step forward, the entire riverbank shuddered. A series of synchronized, deafening explosions erupted from the downtown financial district behind them.
The towering glass facade of the municipal archives building lit up in a brilliant, cascading wave of internal lights flashing on and off in an unmistakable Morse code sequence: TRUTH-RELEASED-VERIFIED.
Sterling stopped dead in his tracks, staring up at the city skyline in absolute disbelief. The satellite tablet in his hand began to beep frantically, the screen flashing a continuous stream of crimson warning alerts from the Department of Justice’s central server hub.
"Sir! We're receiving automated override commands from the federal attorney general's office!" one of the tactical operators shouted into his shoulder mic, his voice cracking with panic. "All units stand down! I repeat, all units stand down! This is a federal seizure!"
Sterling’s carefully constructed composure shattered instantly. He lunged forward, drawing his suppressed pistol from his jacket, but before he could clear the holster, Miller’s sidearm barked once in the dark.
The bullet struck the concrete inches from Sterling’s boots, kicking up a shower of white sparks.
"Drop it, Arthur," Miller said, her voice steady and lethal as she stepped into the spotlight’s glare with her weapon locked squarely on his chest. "Your restructuring plan just went bankrupt."
Sirens—real ones this time, accompanied by unmarked federal vehicles bearing DOJ insignia—screeched down the access road behind the tree line, their red and blue emergency lights washing over the riverbank in a chaotic, overwhelming wave of legitimate authority.
Within seconds, federal agents poured out of the vehicles, swarming the area and placing Sterling's tactical guards under arrest without resistance. Two agents stepped forward, gently relieving Sterling of his weapon and clicking heavy steel cuffs around his wrists.
Marcus watched as Sterling was led away toward a waiting federal transport, his expensive suit dragging slightly in the damp mud of the riverbank.
Vance leaned heavily against a concrete piling, letting out a long, shuddering breath that sounded like years of accumulated weight finally leaving his chest. He looked at Marcus, offering a weak, tired smile.
"Twenty feet from your front door," Vance muttered softly, shaking his head. "Hell of a walk for a bag of garbage."
May you like
Marcus looked down at his scraped hands, then out across the river as the first pale light of dawn began to break over the eastern horizon, turning the grey sky into a brilliant ribbon of gold and blue. He took a deep, clean breath of the morning air, feeling the heavy burden finally lift from his shoulders.
"Yeah," Marcus said quietly, turning back toward the path that led home. "But at least we made it."
