Chapter 3 - The Call to the Frontline
I pressed the biometric scanner on the side of the encrypted black device, my thumb trembling with agony.
The phone illuminated instantly with a soft green glow, bypassing the private cellular jammers Victoria had installed around the estate.
There was only a single emergency contact saved in the device's secure operational directory.
I hit the speed-dial button and jammed the cold speaker against my ear, panting through another violent surge of contractions.
The line did not even ring twice before a calm, authoritative voice answered with lethal precision.
"Agent Vance, report," Special Agent Mara Voss answered from the mobile command center fifteen miles away.
"Mara... it's Claire," I choked out, a sob breaking through my professional facade as another spasm crippled my lungs.
There was an instantaneous shift in the tone on the other end of the line, the sound of papers rustling abruptly halting.
"Claire? What's your status? Your biometric monitor just spiked off the charts," Mara demanded, her voice razor-sharp.
"My water broke... I am locked inside the east bridal restroom at the vineyard," I wept, gripping the vanity leg for support.
"What do you mean you're locked in? Where is your husband?" Mara asked, the sound of rapid keyboard typing echoing in the background.
"He locked the door from the outside with his mother," I whispered, the shame of saying it out loud almost killing me.
"They refused to call an ambulance because it would disrupt the wedding photographers and ruin Celeste's entrance," I added.
A heavy, terrifying silence fell over the line, followed by the sound of a chair violently scraping across a command vehicle floor.
"Say that again, Claire," Mara said, her voice dropping into a register of cold, vibrating fury that promised absolute destruction.
"They deadbolted the heavy oak door from the hallway... I am thirty-four weeks pregnant and bleeding on the floor," I gasped.
"Contractions are less than two minutes apart... Mara, please hurry, my baby is in distress," I sobbed into the microphone.
"Listen to me very carefully, Claire, you keep breathing and you do not give up," Mara ordered, her voice cutting through my panic.
"I am overriding our operational timeline right now," Mara continued, shouting commands across her mobile operations room.
"I don't give a damn that the federal grand jury indictments were scheduled for next Tuesday morning," she barked to her team.
"Mobilize tactical units Alpha and Bravo, contact Highway Patrol dispatch, and scramble the county air-med helicopter immediately!"
I could hear sirens beginning to wail in the background of Mara's command vehicle, joined by the metallic cocking of service rifles.
"Claire, do you have your service credential and the primary digital drive with you?" Mara asked, returning her attention to me.
"Yes... the micro-drive containing Evan’s signed shell transfers is secured inside the lining of my bra," I panted heavily.
"Good, because when my agents breach those estate gates, we are not just coming to deliver your baby," Mara declared with venom.
"We are executing seventy-two federal arrest warrants and freezing every red cent this crime family has stolen from this state," she added.
"Evan's signature is on every single Cayman wire transfer, Mara... I checked the routing numbers three times," I whispered through tears.
"He didn't just inherit this blood money, Claire... he ran the entire laundering network through the vineyard's imported grape contracts," she replied.
Another contraction seized me, so violent and tearing that the phone slipped from my sweaty fingers and clattered against the tiles.
I screamed into the empty bathroom, curling into a tight fetal ball as the cold stone beneath me offered no comfort against the agony.
Through the speaker on the floor, Mara’s frantic voice resonated with unyielding resolve.
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"Hang on, Claire! We are rolling out with heavy armor right now!"
"ETA is eight minutes, Claire! Do not let them break you!"
