Chapter 9 - The Safehouse Revelation and the Syndicate’s Shadow
Arthur stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward the tactical commander, Captain Hayes. I watched through the tinted window as the officers finalized their assault plan.
Suddenly, Detective Miller’s encrypted tablet let out a sharp, high-pitched alarm.
“Chief!” Miller called out, leaning out the window. “We have movement on the tracker!”
Arthur rushed back to the car. “What is it?”
“The GPS signal inside the swaddle blanket is moving rapidly toward the back of the estate,” Miller said, pointing at the screen. “The signal just exited the second-floor master suite and is heading toward the private helipad behind the tennis courts!”
My heart stopped.
“They know,” I cried, grabbing Arthur’s arm. “Someone tipped them off! They’re taking Lucas to the helicopter!”
Arthur’s radio crackled instantly. A voice from the dispatch center sounded panicked: “Chief Vance! An emergency communication was just logged from Evelyn Vance’s burner phone prior to her arrest. She sent an automated panic alert to Julian Henderson’s private security chief!”
“All units, move! Move now!” Arthur bellowed into his tactical radio. “Breach the gates! Block all exits! Do not let that helicopter leave the ground!”
Sirens shattered the quiet mountain air as six heavy police SUVs slammed through the massive iron security gates of the Henderson estate, tearing the hinges off the stone pillars. Gravel flew through the air as the vehicles roared up the driveway, surrounding the main entrance and the rear gardens.
The sound of screeching tires and blaring sirens instantly caused chaos inside the mansion. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the ballroom, I saw dozens of wealthy guests screaming, dropping champagne flutes, and scattering in panic as armed tactical officers stormed the grand foyer.
I didn't wait for permission.
Handing Leo securely to the protective custody officer in the backseat, I pushed the car door open and ran toward the estate grounds.
“Elena! Stay back!” Arthur shouted, drawing his firearm as he ran ahead with the assault team.
I couldn't stay back. Across the vast lawn, near the edge of the cliff overlooking the dark valley below, the thunderous roar of helicopter blades began to spin.
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A sleek, silver private helicopter was warming up on the landing pad, its blinding spotlight sweeping across the grass.
And standing on the concrete pad, flanked by two armed private security guards, was Victoria Henderson—clutching a blue swaddle blanket against her fur coat.
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