Chapter 5
Within thirty minutes, Mark and Eleanor were escorted out of the suburban house in heavy restraints.
Paparazzi and local neighbors peered from behind police tape as the suspects were loaded into the federal transport vans.
Upstairs, military paramedics carefully transferred Clara onto a specialized stretcher, wrapping her in thermal blankets.
Thomas carried the neatly folded, triangle-cased US flag from the bedside table, holding it close to his chest like a shield.
He walked down the stairs behind the medical team, his eyes scanning every detail of the living room.
On the coffee table, a stack of fake medical invoices and offshore bank routing numbers lay exposed under the desk lamp.
An investigator walked over to Thomas, handing him a recovered leather folder with a solemn nod.
"General, you were right about the scale of this operation," the investigator reported quietly.
"This clinic wasn't just harvesting kidneys for local debts; they were feeding an illegal syndicate operating out of Virginia."
Thomas opened the leather folder, his eyes scanning the list of wealthy international buyers listed on the ledger.
"Trace every single routing number to its origin before sunrise," Thomas instructed firmly.
"I want every individual connected to this registry hunted down and brought before a military tribunal."
"Yes, sir!" the investigator saluted crisply before turning back to supervise the evidence collection.
Thomas walked out through the front door into the chilly night air, stepping past the flashing blue lights.
He climbed into the back of the military ambulance where Clara rested comfortably on the oxygen monitor.
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The doors slammed shut, sealing them inside a quiet sanctuary away from the chaos of the suburban street.
As the ambulance pulled away from the curb, Thomas held the folded American flag tightly in his lap.
