Chapter 9
The heavy iron gates of Agent Miller’s property loomed out of the fog like the entrance to a fortress. Arthur pulled the sedan to a halt directly in front of the keypad security box, leaning out the window to punch in a rapid sequence of numbers. Behind them, the dark SUV rolled to a stop fifty yards back, its engine idling with a low, menacing rumble that vibrated through the damp air.
"Come on, come on," Arthur muttered under his breath, hammering the enter key as the red security light blinked stubbornly.
With a mechanical groan, the iron gates swung inward. Arthur didn't hesitate; he slammed his foot on the gas pedal, shooting the sedan up the steep gravel driveway just as the pursuing SUV accelerated sharply toward the closing entrance. The heavy gates clicked shut with a resounding clang barely seconds before the dark vehicle reached the property line, forcing the pursuer to screech to a halt outside.
Arthur drove another hundred yards up the winding drive before killing the headlights and coasting to a stop beneath the heavy canopy of an ancient oak tree beside a sprawling stone ranch house.
"Stay here," Arthur instructed quickly, already unbuckling his seatbelt. He grabbed a heavy metal tire iron from the trunk well before stepping out into the cold night air, his eyes locked on the dark silhouette of the house ahead.
The front door of the ranch house swung open before Arthur even reached the porch steps. A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties wearing a flannel shirt and dark trousers stepped out onto the porch, holding a tactical flashlight in one hand and a heavy-duty mug of coffee in the other.
"Arthur?" Agent Miller called out, his voice gravelly and sharp with surprise. "What in God's name brings you up my mountain at two in the morning?"
"We're compromised, Tom," Arthur said, lowering the tire iron as he climbed the steps. "My daughter and grandson are in the car. We have digital proof of municipal corruption reaching the deputy director level, and we were just tailed all the way up your access road."
Miller’s expression shifted instantly from sleepy confusion to razor-sharp professional focus. The coffee mug was set down on the porch railing with a dull thud. "Who’s tailing you?"
May you like
"Julian," Rebecca called out as she hurried up the wooden steps carrying the baby carrier, with Leo now whimpering softly in the cool air. "My husband. He’s knee-deep in rezoning kickbacks, and he knows we have the files."
Miller didn't hesitate. He swung the front door wide open, gesturing for them to enter the warm, brightly lit interior of his home. "Get inside, now. I’ll trigger the perimeter alarms and call district dispatch. If they followed you up here, they just stepped onto federal property."
