Drink the tea, Julian, you look exhausted after the campaign rally, my father-in-law, Senator Arthur Montgomery, said softly as he patted my shoulder.
The FBI command center pulsed with urgent energy, Agent Danforth now fully invested, his usual bureaucratic caution replaced by grim determination. We had Clara’s location, a precise address in Lake Placid. But as quickly as we found it, Montgomery acted.
Intercepted communications, a flurry of encrypted messages from untraceable burners, suddenly flooded Danforth’s screens. They were directives from Senator Montgomery himself, relayed to his private security network. The language was cold, clinical, horrifying.
“Clean the site. Move all assets across the Canadian border. Before midnight.”
Danforth’s face hardened. “He knows we’re closing in. He’s ordering a liquidation.”
Midnight. Less than three hours away. A frantic knot twisted in my stomach. The FBI, methodical and thorough, was already scrambling tactical teams, coordinating with local law enforcement, but their protocols were slow, deliberate. They would move with precision, but they would move too slowly.
“I’m going,” I announced, grabbing my jacket.
Danforth looked up, his jaw set. “Julian, we’re deploying a full federal operation. It’s too dangerous to go in alone. You’ll compromise the extraction.”
“He’s not just moving ‘assets,’ Agent,” I retorted, my voice tight with suppressed fury. “He’s moving my wife. He’s trying to make her disappear forever. You want to follow procedure, Agent? Go ahead. I’m going to save my family.”
I didn’t wait for his reply. I sprinted out of the command center, ignoring the shouts, the blaring sirens now echoing further away. My truck, a battered but reliable relic, was parked in the Capitol garage. I started the engine, the roar a raw counterpoint to my own desperate fear.
The rain started, a cold, driving downpour, as I sped north out of the city, the needle of my speedometer pushing past the legal limit. Lake Placid. Before midnight. I was racing against a ruthless man and a ticking clock, alone on a dark, rain-slicked highway.
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