Chapter 54 - The Panamanian Proxy
The caravan that tore down Interstate 71 South toward Route 104 looked like a small army. Two FBI tactical Suburbans led the convoy, followed by Miller’s communications van, with Henrik Von Berg’s diplomatic Mercedes fleet running tightly at the rear.
Inside the tactical van, the monitors glowed with satellite imagery of the quarry.
"Look at the perimeter," Miller said, pointing to thermal heat signatures around the massive concrete silos. "Vance didn't send lawyers. Those are private military contractors—the same overseas clean-up crew he used during the restructuring of Sovereign Horizon."
"Why would Vance go this far?" Mom asked, clutching Dad's arm as the van swayed violently around a sharp turn. "He already had the money. He had eighty million dollars!"
"Because eighty million dollars in stolen sovereign treasury bonds can’t just be spent at a grocery store, Mrs. Bennett," Von Berg explained from the passenger bench, having joined our vehicle to monitor the operation. "To convert those bonds into untraceable liquidity, the bearer must present physical notarized assignments before the International Settlement Board in Zurich by midnight tonight. Vance needed Arthur’s thumbprint to legally claim the Panamanian proxy. But more importantly, once the transfer cleared, Vance needed Arthur—and anyone connected to the forgery—dead."
"Including my daughter and grandchildren," Dad whispered, his jaw set in a hard, unbreakable line.
The anger that had smoldered in Dad's chest for months—ever since Sarah had moved into the family home, kicked my parents out, and stolen their retirement—suddenly transformed into something cold and lethal. A father’s fury.
"Miller," Dad said, leaning across the table. "I built the mechanical hydraulic systems for those quarry crushers back in the seventies when I worked for Franklin Industrial. I know the tunnel under the gravel hopper."
Miller looked up from his tactical map. "There’s a tunnel?"
"A service conduit for the feeder belts," Dad nodded firmly. "It runs beneath the weigh station directly into the lower base of Silo Three. If Kyle and the kids are in the silo, Vance's men think there’s only one door at the top catwalk. They don't know the emergency chute opens from below."
Von Berg stared at my father, the blue-collar mechanic from Ohio who was out-thinking international mercenaries. A slow nod of respect passed between the Swiss envoy and Arthur Bennett.
May you like
"Agent Miller," Von Berg said quietly. "My men carry suppressed MP5s and diplomatic authorization to engage hostile combatants posing an imminent threat to life. You take the high ground. Let Arthur Bennett guide us beneath them."
***
