Chapter 64 - The Ghost in the Capital
The blood drained from my face in a single instant. Miller didn't hesitate; he drew his service weapon with lightning speed, killed the kitchen lights with a sweep of his arm, and shoved Mom and Sarah down behind the reinforced kitchen island.
"Down! Everybody down!" Miller barked into his tactical headset. "Perimeter teams, report! Status on the front yard!"
I crept toward the edge of the blinds, peering through the narrow slats into the rain-slicked darkness of High Street.
Across the boulevard, parked directly under the flickering amber glow of a municipal streetlight, sat a single, matte-black Mercedes Maybach. Its windows were tinted opaque, its engine idling with a sinister, low-frequency rumble.
As I watched, the rear door swung open.
A man stepped out into the pouring rain. A chauffeur held a massive black umbrella above his head, but the man didn't seem to care about the damp night air. He wore a tailored charcoal wool coat over an immaculate suit. His silver hair was swept back cleanly, his angular jawline an unmistakable mirror of Dad’s own features.
Arthur Bennett Jr. stood on American soil, five hundred feet from where we were breathing.
"Team Bravo, move in!" Miller whispered furiously into his mic. "Box the Maybach! Block Broad and High!"
"Negative, Agent Miller," Arthur’s voice came back through the phone, crisp and undisturbed by the wind outside. "Tell your tactical snipers to hold their fire. Look at the diplomatic flags on the front fenders."
Miller froze. He peered through his tactical monocular. "Panamanian diplomatic plates. Sovereign immunity status."
"If your snipers take a shot at this vehicle, Miller, you trigger an international diplomatic catastrophe before your report hits the federal magistrate’s desk," Arthur continued smoothly. "Furthermore, my associates are currently positioned within five hundred meters of Sarah’s children at their grandmother’s sister’s house in Grove City."
Sarah let out a muffled, strangled scream into Mom’s shoulder. Mom wrapped both arms around her, rocking her fiercely. "My babies... oh God, Richard, my babies!"
"You touch those children, Arthur, and I will kill you myself," Dad growled, his voice dropping into a guttural, terrifying pitch. "Diplomatic plates won't save you from me."
"I don't care about the children, Richard," Arthur said, his voice echoing from both the phone and the rainy street outside. "I care about the conclusion of 1985. Bring the master key to the Griggs Dam spillway at midnight. You and your daughters. Alone. No federal escorts. No Envoy Von Berg."
"And if we refuse?" Dad asked.
"Then the Pickerington property burns to the ground, your grandchildren's home will be seized by foreclosures you cannot stop, and the Bennett name will be synonymous with international fraud until your family line ends," Arthur said, his tone chillingly polite. "Midnight, Richard. Don't be late."
The line clicked dead.
May you like
Outside, Arthur stepped back into the Maybach. The heavy door closed with a muffled thud, and the luxury sedan glided smoothly into the stream of Columbus traffic, disappearing into the city lights like a phantom.
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