Chapter 7 - The Midnight Convoy To Manhattan
By 1:30 a.m., the convoy of black Suburbans was racing down the Long Island Expressway toward Manhattan under the cover of heavy fog.
Mark sat in the back of the center vehicle, his hands bound tightly behind him with heavy zip-ties, flanked by two armed operatives.
Sarah sat in the front passenger seat of the lead vehicle next to her father, a sterile gauze pad taped neatly over her forehead wound.
She watched the Manhattan skyline rise out of the dark distance, the towering skyscrapers glowing like distant embers.
“What happens when we reach the city, Dad?” Sarah asked, staring at the wet asphalt reflecting the red taillights ahead.
“We take back what belongs to your mother’s family, Sarah,” Arthur replied, his hands steady on the steering wheel.
“The Vance family syndicate has controlled the logistics contracts along the eastern seaboard for twenty years through bribery and extortion.”
“Mark wasn't just stealing your money; his father was using Mark's hedge fund as a front to wash illegal narcotics capital through legitimate defense supply chains.”
Sarah closed her eyes, the sheer magnitude of the betrayal washing over her tired mind.
She had spent three years living in the same house with a man who was actively selling out her country and her family’s legacy.
“And Arthur Vance?” Sarah asked, referring to Mark’s father, the ruthless patriarch of the Vance empire.
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“Arthur Vance thinks he’s meeting with the Governor’s chief of staff at the Harvard Club tonight,” the General answered with an icy grin.
“He doesn't know his son is arriving with a federal task force.”
