Chapter 9 - The Final Stand
Time seemed to slow down, the way it always did when the line between seconds became a matter of survival. I didn't flinch. I didn't reach for the M17. I just looked straight into my father's eyes and saw a man who had finally run out of roads.
Before Arthur could pull the trigger, the dark woods outside erupted with the blinding glare of half a dozen tactical spotlights.
“FEDERAL LAW ENFORCEMENT! DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!”
The shouts echoed through the cabin windows from three different directions simultaneously. Heavy boots slammed onto the porch, and through the shattered door frame poured four armed federal agents in tactical gear, led by Director Thomas Callahan himself.
Arthur froze, the antique revolver shaking in his hand.
Callahan didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, a federal agent closed the distance, struck Arthur across the wrist with a tactical baton, and sent the silver revolver clattering across the floorboards. Arthur cried out, stumbling backward against the horsehair sofa as two agents pinned his arms behind his back and slapped steel cuffs around his wrists.
Julian dropped the tire iron immediately, falling to his knees with his hands locked behind his head. "I didn't do it! It was all him! I just signed the paperwork!"
Callahan stepped into the center of the cabin, his boots crunching on the dust. He looked down at the open hearth compartment, then at the documents spread across the floor, before turning his gaze to me.
"Colonel Vance," Callahan said, his voice level and steady. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Director," I replied, standing straight and brushing a speck of dust from the sleeve of my uniform. "Just finishing up some family business."
Callahan looked over at Arthur, who was being hauled to his feet by two agents, his face contorted in bitter fury.
"Arthur Vance," Callahan said, pulling a folded paper from his pocket. "You are under arrest for federal defense procurement fraud, embezzlement, and conspiracy against the United States. You have the right to remain silent..."
As they dragged my father toward the door, he stopped for a fraction of a second and looked back at me over his shoulder. There was no anger left in his face anymore. Just a cold, hollow defeat.
"You really are your grandfather's granddaughter," Arthur whispered bitterly.
May you like
"Thank you," I said.
The door closed behind them, leaving the cabin quiet once again except for the sound of the rain outside tapping gently against the glass.
