Chapter 15 - The Flight of the CowardJustice, when properly executed, is a shockwave. It shatters the glass houses of the corrupt and leaves them scrambling in the debris.
The morning after the raid on The Blackwood Institute, the national news cycle was entirely consumed by the scandal. The faces of Dr. Alistair Blackwood and his complicit medical staff were plastered across every major network. The "Sanctuary of Horrors" dominated the headlines. But as I sat in the command center of Nora’s Shield, drinking my third cup of black coffee, I wasn't celebrating. I was hunting.
Sarah Sterling burst through the glass doors, her phone pressed to her ear, her face flushed with adrenaline. "The FBI just finished sweeping the Vance estate in Connecticut," she announced, dropping a stack of heavily redacted flight manifests onto my desk. "Evelyn’s husband is gone. Richard Vance cleared out his personal wall safe, liquidated ten million dollars from a secondary offshore account, and vanished before sunrise."
I set my coffee mug down, my jaw clenching. Richard Vance was the catalyst. He was the man who had ordered Lucas to be locked in a padded room so he could steal the boy's inheritance. I was not going to let him sip margaritas in a non-extradition country while his stepson spent years in trauma therapy.
"He can't vanish, Sarah. Men like Richard Vance don't know how to live off the grid. They need luxury," I said, my eyes scanning the flight manifests. "Where is Jax?"
"Right here, boss," Jax grunted, stepping into the office with a sleek, encrypted tablet in his hand. The former DEA agent looked like he hadn't slept in three days, and he loved every second of it. "Vance isn't taking a commercial flight. He’s too recognizable. I tapped into the FAA registry for private charters. A Gulfstream G650 registered to one of Vance's shell corporations just filed a flight plan for Zurich. It departs from Teterboro Airport in forty-five minutes."
"He’s running for his Swiss accounts," I deduced, standing up and grabbing my tailored coat. "Call Agent Harrison. Tell him to get a tactical unit to Teterboro. Jax, warm up the SUV. We are going to personally revoke Mr. Vance’s passport."
The drive to Teterboro Airport was a masterclass in high-speed evasion, Jax weaving the heavy armored SUV through morning traffic with terrifying precision. By the time we breached the perimeter of the private airfield, the engines of Vance’s sleek white Gulfstream were already whining, preparing for taxi.
We didn't wait for permission to enter the tarmac. Jax smashed the SUV through the secondary chain-link gate, the heavy grill of the vehicle sending sparks flying as we skidded to a violent halt directly in front of the private jet's nose gear.
The pilots immediately killed the engines. The boarding stairs were still down.
I stepped out of the SUV into the freezing wind of the tarmac, Jax flanking me with his hand resting casually on his holstered weapon. Two black FBI Suburbans screeched onto the runway seconds later, Agent Harrison and half a dozen armed agents swarming the jet.
Richard Vance appeared at the top of the boarding stairs. He was wearing a cashmere overcoat, clutching an aluminum briefcase to his chest. The arrogant, wealthy venture capitalist looked absolutely pathetic—sweating, trembling, his eyes wide with the realization that he was trapped.
"Richard Vance," Agent Harrison’s voice boomed over a megaphone. "Step down with your hands in the air. You are under arrest for wire fraud, extortion, and child endangerment."
Vance slowly descended the stairs, his legs shaking so violently he almost tripped. When he reached the tarmac, the agents immediately surrounded him, but I raised a hand, stepping through the perimeter to look the man in the eye.
"David, please," Vance choked out, his voice cracking. He held up the aluminum briefcase like a shield. "There’s five million dollars in untraceable bearer bonds in this case. Take it. Take it all! Just let me get on the plane. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again!"
I looked at the briefcase, then back up at his terrified face. The sheer, blinding audacity of the wealthy to believe that every sin had a price tag was sickening.
"You think I want your dirty money, Richard?" I asked, my voice dropping to a freezing, absolute zero. "I saw Lucas last night. I saw a nine-year-old boy who flinched every time someone raised a hand because of the 'care' you prescribed for him. You tried to bury a child alive to pad your bank account."
"I... I didn't know what Blackwood was going to do to him!" Vance pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "I just needed him out of the way!"
"You knew exactly what you were doing," I whispered, stepping close enough that he could see the total lack of mercy in my eyes. "And now, you are going to experience exactly what Lucas felt. You are going to be locked in a concrete box, stripped of your autonomy, and surrounded by monsters. But the difference is, Richard... no one is coming to save you."
I turned my back on him. "Take out the trash, Harrison."
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The agents slammed Vance onto the hood of the SUV, clicking heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists. He screamed and sobbed as they read him his rights, but the sound faded into the roaring wind as I walked back to my vehicle.
Another domino had fallen. But the board wasn't cleared yet.
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