Chapter 6 - The Intruders
I didn't turn on my high beams. I left the Jeep in park, killed the interior lights, and reached down beside the passenger seat to unlatch the heavy tactical case bolted to the floorboards. Inside was my sidearm—a standard-issue M17 service pistol—along with two spare magazines and a high-lumens tactical flashlight.
Ten years in a combat medical unit teaches you a lot of things, but above all, it teaches you not to panic when the perimeter is compromised.
I stepped out of the Jeep into the freezing rain, pulling my wool cap down low over my forehead. The cold water hit my face instantly, soaking through my uniform blouse within seconds. I kept my hand resting near the holster on my hip, moving silently off the gravel track and into the shadow of the tall hemlock trees bordering the property line.
The parked car was a dark, unmarked sedan with D.C. diplomatic plates—or rather, plates that looked diplomatic until you knew how to spot the sloppy government-surplus stamping. Two men were sitting inside. The engine was running, condensation fogging the side windows.
"...told you we should have hit the place Tuesday before the old man croaked," a gruff voice drifted through the partially cracked driver's side window.
"Shut up and watch the road," the second man snapped from the passenger seat, tapping a cigarette against his dashboard. "Vance said the girl was staying at the reception. He didn't figure she'd drive straight out here in the middle of a nor'easter."
"Well, her Jeep's not down by the highway. She’s either walked up to the porch or she’s already inside."
"Then let's finish this. Vance wants those ledgers burned before the federal marshals execute the search warrant on the Virginia office tomorrow morning. If those files see a grand jury, we're all doing twenty years in Leavenworth."
I let out a slow, steady breath. Arthur hadn't just sent goons; he had sent corporate fixers—men tied to the very defense sub-contracts the Pentagon was currently shutting down.
I didn't wait for them to finish their cigarette.
I moved out from the tree line, my boots making no sound on the thick bed of pine needles, and stepped directly up to the driver's side door of the sedan. Before the driver could turn his head, I drew the M17, racked the slide with a sharp, metallic clack, and tapped the barrel firmly against the glass.
The driver froze mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as saucers as he stared down the barrel of a service weapon pointed straight at his temple.
"Hands on the steering wheel," I said, my voice cutting through the rain like a razor. "Both of you. Now."
The passenger frantically reached toward his jacket pocket.
"Don't do it," I warned, shifting the barrel slightly toward the passenger-side window. "I'm a commissioned officer in the United States Army, and you are currently trespassing on federal trust property during an active Department of Defense investigation. Make another move toward that coat and I won't aim for the tires."
The passenger froze, his hand hovering an inch from his shoulder holster. Slowly, both men raised their hands into the air.
"Who sent you?" I asked.
"Look, lady—" the driver started, his voice shaking.
"I asked who sent you," I repeated, pressing the barrel a fraction closer to the glass. "Arthur? Or did one of his vice presidents decide they didn't want to go down alone?"
The passenger swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the cabin. "Mr. Vance... Mr. Arthur Vance. He said... he said whatever was under the hearth belonged to the family corporation."
"The family corporation doesn't own this land," I said. "And neither does Arthur. Turn the engine off. Toss the keys out the window."
The driver fumbled with the ignition key, dropping it once before kicking it across the floorboards and tossing the metal ring out into the mud.
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"Now get out," I ordered. "And start walking down the mountain. If I look back and see you on this property in two minutes, I'm calling Director Callahan's personal detail and having you picked up under the Patriot Act."
They didn't argue. Both men scrambled out of the car, slipping and sliding in the mud, and began trudging down the dark forestry road toward the highway without looking back once.
