Chapter 7 - The Arrest of Arthur Vance
The door of the town car wrenched open from the outside, and Ethan Mercer stood framed against the flashing blue and red lights of three unmarked federal cruisers that had converged on the vehicle from all sides.
"Federal agents! Hands where I can see them!" Ethan shouted, his weapon trained squarely on Arthur Vance's chest.
Vance didn't flinch. He carefully set his coffee cup down on the central console, adjusted the cuffs of his bespoke suit, and raised his hands with an air of arrogant annoyance.
"Agent Mercer," Vance said smoothly, as if greeting an acquaintance at a charity gala. "You're making a catastrophic professional error. This vehicle has diplomatic transit immunity under corporate treaty provisions."
"That immunity expired the moment your driver leveled a ghost gun at a local law enforcement officer," Ethan replied coldly, grabbing Vance by the lapel of his jacket and hauling him out of the vehicle onto the wet pavement.
Mira Patel stepped forward with a pair of steel handcuffs, securing them around Vance's wrists with practiced efficiency. "Arthur Vance, you are being placed under arrest for corporate conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and conspiring to compromise federal security assets."
In the back seat, Grant Heller sat frozen, hyperventilating as he stared at the shattered glass and the rain pouring into the car. He looked up to see Noah standing near the federal cruisers, watching him with a calm, unblinking gaze.
"Get him out too," Mira ordered the backup team, nodding toward Heller. "Officer Heller, you have the right to remain silent. Use it wisely."
As Heller was pulled from the car and pushed down onto his knees in the mud, he finally broke. Tears mixed with the rain streaming down his face. "I didn't want any of this! They said it was just a standard asset recovery! They said nobody would get hurt!"
"You hurt my son," Ethan said, his voice deathly quiet as he walked past the broken-down police officer. "And you betrayed every badge in this city. That's a debt you'll spend the rest of your natural life paying off."
Noah walked up beside his father, looking down at the handcuffed men. The red swelling on his wrist still ached, but the heavy, suffocating weight that had pressed down on his chest since the airport garage had finally lifted.
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"Are we done here, Dad?" Noah asked softly.
Ethan looked down at his son, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulders and pulling him close against his side. "Yeah, bud. We're done here. Let's go home."
