When I Came Home Early to My Sick Mother and Bruised Daughter, My Jobless Husband Thought I Was Just a Quiet Wife—Until I Swiped My ID and Revealed I Am an Army Colonel Managing a Federal Conspirator / Chapter 19 / 60

Chapter 19 - The Ticking Clock

The armored Suburban tore down Interstate 95 at one hundred and ten miles per hour, its blue and red hidden strobes cutting through the torrential rain. Siren wails split the night, clearing lanes as civilian vehicles swerved wildly onto the shoulders.

Sitting in the back, I had my laptop open, running a live audio intercept of Victor Vance’s private residence in Potomac, Maryland.

"He’s not running," Miller reported from the passenger seat, monitoring satellite feeds. "Vance is hosting a charity gala at his private estate right now. Three hundred high-profile guests, including four members of the Senate Armed Services Committee. He’s hiding in plain sight behind a wall of politicians and socialites."

"He thinks his social standing makes him untouchable," I said coldly, loading a twenty-round magazine into an HK416 carbine. "He thinks because he wears a tuxedo and writes checks to political campaigns, the military won't dare kick down his front door."

"Colonel, Walter Reed security just reported an unscheduled power failure in the East Wing," Tyler shouted from behind the steering wheel. "Primary generators failed to engage. The cardiac intensive care unit is operating on thirty-minute battery reserves!"

"Faster, Tyler!" I ordered. "Ram through the toll gates if you have to!"

The Suburban smashed through the plastic toll barrier at the Maryland border, splintering fiberglass in every direction.

I dialed the direct line to the private suite where Evelyn was supposed to be resting.

The phone rang four times. Then a man’s voice answered. It wasn't the doctor. It was low, cultured, and terrifyingly calm.

"Colonel Amanda Vance," the voice purred through the speaker. "I must compliment your tactical efficiency. Sterling was a clumsy tool, but you disassembled his entire operation in less than twelve hours."

"Victor Vance," I said, my voice steady, sharp as a surgeon's scalpel.

"Indeed," Victor replied, the background noise filled with the faint clinking of champagne glasses and classical violin music. "You’ve caused me a great deal of financial inconvenience tonight, Amanda. But I am a practical man. I understand leverage. Right now, two of my private security specialists are standing inside Room 612 at Walter Reed. Your mother looks so fragile hooked up to that telemetry machine. One pull of the IV line, and her heart simply stops. An unfortunate medical tragedy."

"If you touch her," I said with lethal calm, "there is no hole on this earth deep enough to hide you from me."

"Then let us make an exchange, Colonel," Victor whispered. "Bring me the master drive from the *Caspian Sovereign*. Come alone to my estate in Potomac. You have twenty-five minutes. If I see a single federal badge or military uniform within one mile of my gates, the order is given. Your mother dies. Your daughter becomes an orphan. Choose wisely, Colonel."