Chapter 12 - The Third Target Seeks Shelter From Wealthy Parents
Back in the heart of Manhattan, Whitmore’s family lived inside a towering luxury penthouse overlooking Central Park.
Though Whitmore was currently trapped on the interstate highway, his desperate parents had already realized the scale of the disaster.
Senator Whitmore paced across the expansive marble foyer of his penthouse, shouting angrily into his secure satellite telephone.
“What do you mean the federal prosecutor refused my call? I helped appoint half those judges in the district!” the Senator roared.
“Sir, the case file has been classified under national security oversight due to international underworld ties,” a frantic aide replied.
“Underworld ties? My son was just involved in a standard college fraternity hazing incident, not a terrorist conspiracy!” the Senator yelled.
“Respectfully, Senator, the girl he assaulted is the daughter of a legendary black-ops operative known only as The Ghost,” the aide warned.
The color drained instantly from the Senator’s face, his expensive silk tie suddenly feeling like a tightening noose around his neck.
He knew the legends of The Ghost from his days on the congressional intelligence oversight committee—rumors of a phantom who broke empires.
“Get our private jet prepped at Teterboro Airport immediately. We’re flying out of the country tonight,” the Senator ordered frantically.
He rushed toward the private elevator, intending to gather his family and flee before the federal dragnet reached their penthouse doors.
As the elevator doors slid open on his private floor, he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping his leather briefcase onto the marble floor.
Standing inside his penthouse foyer were two silent, armed federal agents flanked by one of The Ghost’s elite underground operatives.
“Senator Whitmore, your international travel privileges have been officially revoked under emergency asset forfeiture laws,” the agent stated.
“You cannot do this! I am a sitting United States Senator!” he protested, attempting to invoke his legislative immunity.
“Legislative immunity doesn't cover accessory to corporate racketeering and obstruction of justice, Senator,” the operative replied calmly.
The illusion of political invulnerability evaporated instantly as the heavy steel handcuffs clicked around the powerful politician’s wrists.
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His family’s multi-generational empire of wealth and influence was dismantled in less time than it took to pour a glass of scotch.
The relentless wheels of true American justice were crushing every single person who had ever enabled the abusers.
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