Chapter 10 - The Broken Alibi and the Counterfeit Will: The Trap Begins to Snap Shut
By 2:00 PM on Friday, the financial district of Richmond was buzzing with rumors of the century’s largest private defense infrastructure acquisition.
Julian Sterling sat at the head of the mahogany conference table on the 40th floor of Sterling Towers. Surrounding him were twelve high-ranking representatives of the foreign logistics syndicate, six high-profile corporate lawyers, and Senator Hayes.
“Gentlemen,” Julian smiled, adjusting his silk tie with supreme confidence. “The probate judge has signed off on the expedited presumption of death for Valerie and Mason Vance. The Vance Trust will formally dissolve at eight o’clock tonight during our commemorative gala. My fiancée, Chloe Vance, the sole surviving heir, will sign the consolidation agreement on live television.”
An elderly German investor leaned forward. “And the acoustic submarine patents, Mr. Sterling? The physical transfer documents?”
“They are being secured as we speak,” Julian assured him smoothly. “My private logistics team will have the prototype alloy panels transferred to the Chesapeake Empress before midnight. By sunrise tomorrow, the vessel will be in international waters, and our joint manufacturing facility in the Mediterranean will commence production.”
The investors nodded, murmuring approval, raising their glasses of vintage scotch in a preliminary toast.
“To the future of Sterling Maritime Logistics,” Senator Hayes proclaimed, smiling broadly. “And to Julian Sterling—the visionary who finally united the Virginia coast.”
Julian raised his crystal glass, his smile radiant with unchecked vanity. He believed he had executed the perfect crime. Valerie was dead. Mason was dead. Dr. Albright was under his thumb. The police had closed the investigation as an unfortunate weather-related accident. The money was moving offshore.
Little did Julian know that five floors below him, sitting in a surveillance van in the underground parking garage, Mason was intercepting every single second of that meeting through the building’s compromised HVAC sensors.
“He just confirmed the foreign military transfer on a live microphone,” Mason said, tapping his headset and looking over at Special Agent Marcus Cole of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS), who sat beside us in the tactical surveillance van.
Agent Cole, a decorated military investigator who had served under our father twenty years ago, adjusted his earpiece, his face dark with suppressed fury.
“That’s treason under Title 18 of the United States Code,” Agent Cole said, turning to me. “Valerie, your father gave his life to keep those submarine acoustic dampening patents out of foreign hands. What Julian Sterling is attempting today is an act of espionage against the United States Navy.”
“Do you have enough to arrest him now, Agent Cole?” I asked.
“We have enough to arrest him for wire fraud and conspiracy,” Cole replied. “But if we take him down now in this office, his high-priced legal team will tie this up in federal probate court for a decade, and his father’s political connections will suppress the evidence. We need Julian to physically attempt the transfer of the classified naval property at Berth 7 tonight, and we need his public confession on record.”
“You’ll get both,” Mason said, checking the tactical readiness feed on his screen. “The gala starts at eight. Our federal tactical teams will be staged inside the dry dock storage facility by seven-thirty.”
“And what about Valerie?” Agent Cole asked, looking at me with concern. “Julian thinks you are at the bottom of the river. If he sees you before the federal perimeter is locked down, his private mercenaries might open fire in a crowded ballroom.”
May you like
I looked at my reflection in the dark glass of the van window. I was no longer the soft, trusting wife who poured his tea and managed his balance sheets.
“Julian spent three years building a stage for my execution,” I said, loading a compact magazine into my sidearm. “It’s only fair that I take the front row seat for his.”
Related Stories
