Chapter 18 - The trap in the clearing
Evelyn walked into the center of the clearing, stopping twenty paces from Victoria. She held the black sphere high in her left hand, her wounded right arm hanging at her side, blood slowly soaking through the fresh bandages once more.
"You killed my mother," Evelyn said, her voice clear and carrying over the low hum of the engines.
"Your mother was an engineer who forgot her place," Victoria said casually, flicking a piece of lint from her sleeve. "She designed the guidance systems that made my father’s company worth forty billion dollars. Then she had a sudden, inconvenient attack of Christian morality. She thought we were selling the backdoors to foreign intelligence."
"Were you?" Evelyn asked.
Victoria laughed, a sound like glass shattering. "Of course we were! That's how defense contracts work, Captain. You create the threat, you sell the defense, and then you sell the countermeasure to the highest bidder. Clara was going to blow the whistle. Richard understood business. He took a payout, bought his luxury estates, and married a socialite who wouldn't ask questions. Clara insisted on flying into a blizzard to deliver the hard drives to the Senate."
"So you had Davis order her intercept," Evelyn stated.
"Davis didn't have a choice," Victoria replied coldly. "We own his mortgage, we own his foundation, and we funded his confirmation to the Joint Chiefs. Davis is an ornament. Just like your father was. And now, you're going to hand me that sphere, and we are going to write a very tragic story about how Captain Evelyn Vance, suffering from combat PTSD, fled to the mountains and perished in an accidental cabin fire with her siblings."
"You made one mistake, Victoria," Evelyn said softly.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh? And what was that?"
"You assumed my mother was alone when she crashed."
From the ridges surrounding the clearing, the sudden, deafening shriek of four twin-engine combat helicopters roared through the valley.
Four massive Sikorsky MH-60 Black Hawks crested the tree line simultaneously, their heavy searchlights cutting through the darkness like pillars of fire, blinding Victoria's private security team. The downdraft was immense, flattening the brush and kicking up a whirlwind of snow and dry earth.
Over the military tactical channel, booming from external speakers mounted on the lead Black Hawk, a voice like rolling thunder tore through the clearing:
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"VICTORIA STERLING! THIS IS GENERAL JONATHAN DAVIS OF THE UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES. DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND STEP AWAY FROM THE OFFICER, OR YOU WILL BE ENGAGED WITH 30-MILLIMETER CANNON FIRE!"
Victoria took a horrified step backward, her face draining of all color as she looked up into the blinding storm of military rotor blades.
