Chapter 8 - The Shadow of Treason and the Foreign Shells
By 1600 hours, Dr. Lawson was in an interrogation room at the federal courthouse in New Haven, singing like a canary in exchange for a plea deal that would take the death penalty off the table.
Inside our temporary command post, Captain Marcus Vance pulled up the live confession transcript:
“Richard told me Arthur was going to ruin us all,” Lawson had wept to the federal prosecutors. “Richard said Arthur was going to freeze the bank accounts and hand everything over to Sienna. Julian got the digitalis compound through a contact in Eastern Europe... Richard gave it to Victoria... Victoria put it in Arthur’s evening chamomile tea...”
Special Agent Reed walked into the room, her face dark with cold fury. “The US Attorney has approved aggravated first-degree murder warrants for Victoria Sterling, Richard Vance, and Julian Sterling.”
“We don’t move on the estate until we secure the financial assets,” I ordered, keeping my emotional shields locked down tight. “Where are the primary accounts?”
“That’s the most alarming part, Colonel,” Marcus said, bringing up a global satellite map with financial routing paths illuminated in red. “Richard wasn’t just embezzling Arthur’s money to cover bad stock bets. Over the last four years, Richard and his foreign shell company, Aegis Global Holdings, have been laundering capital through sanctioned defense supply networks in Eastern Europe. They were using Arthur’s commercial construction permits to export sensitive dual-use logistical hardware.”
I looked at the schematic. “Richard committed corporate treason using my father’s company as a shield.”
“Exactly,” Marcus confirmed. “If Arthur had lived to execute that trust transfer to you, your military security review would have immediately uncovered the illegal export manifests. Richard and Victoria didn’t just kill Arthur for his money, Colonel. They killed him because Arthur had discovered the treasonous supply chain forty-eight hours before he died, and he was preparing to turn the entire dossier over to the Pentagon.”
My father hadn't died of stress. He had died as a patriot, protecting his country from the parasite who had invaded his home.
“Marcus,” I said, my voice steady as steel. “Coordinate with the Federal Marshals Tactical Unit, the FBI Hostage Rescue Team, and the Connecticut State Police. We execute synchronized raids on the Greenwich estate, Julian’s restaurant headquarters in Manhattan, and Richard’s investment firm at 1800 hours sharp.”
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“Understood, Colonel.”
“And Evelyn,” I added, looking at Agent Reed. “I want the media cameras there. I want every news station that Richard Vance tried to bribe to be standing at the estate gates when we walk my mother out in chains.”
