Chapter 9 - The Uninvited Honor Guard
"Yes, Commander," Captain Miller replied.
With crisp, mechanical efficiency, the four NCIS agents and two Federal Marshals fanned out, flanking the grand staircase and cutting off every exit from the courtyard.
The senior Federal Marshal, a tall man with a scarred jaw named Special Agent Vance Keller, stepped forward, unfolding a thick, gold-embossed document bearing the seal of the United States District Court for the Southern District of California.
"Harold Vance!" Marshal Keller’s voice echoed across the canyon like a gunshot. "By order of Chief Judge William Callahan, United States District Court, you are hereby served with an emergency Federal Sequestration and Eviction Order under Title 50 of the United States Code, the Servicemembers Civil Relief Act, and Title 18, Section 1343 for aggravated wire fraud against active-duty military personnel!"
Harold took a step back, his face draining of all color. "What? That’s... that’s impossible! I filed the quitclaim! I have the county deed!"
Eleanor Price stepped up beside the Marshal, her silver hair catching the dying light of the sun. She pulled a certified document from her leather briefcase.
"You filed a forged instrument executed by an unauthorized notary, Harold," Eleanor’s voice was like ice cracking over a lake. "Marcus Vance was arrested two hours ago at his office in Chula Vista. He has already signed a full confession admitting that you paid him five thousand dollars to forge Commander Rebecca Vance’s electronic jurat while she was deployed on operational duty in the Seventh Fleet."
A collective, horrified gasp erupted from the terrace above.
Arthur Vance-Montgomery, the bank president Harold had spent the afternoon courting, immediately stepped back from Olivia, his face pale with shock. "Harold... you forged a county title?"
"No! It’s a lie! It’s a legal technicality!" Harold screamed, his composure shattering completely as he pointed a trembling finger at me. "Rebecca, tell them! I am your father! You cannot do this to me! You cannot humiliate your family in front of our friends!"
"You stopped being my family the moment you stole from a deployed officer," I said, speaking directly to him for the first time. My voice was calm, steady, and utterly devoid of mercy. "And as for your friends, Harold? They deserve to know exactly who they were drinking champagne with."
I signaled to the NCIS team leader.
Two agents moved swiftly up the terrace steps. Olivia shrieked as they brushed past the floral arrangements and approached her husband.
"Gregory Vance," the lead agent said, drawing a pair of steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for federal money laundering, conspiracy to commit wire fraud, and the unauthorized receipt and conversion of Department of Defense military allotment funds totaling seventy-six thousand dollars."
"Wait! No! Greg didn't do anything!" Olivia screamed, grabbing Greg’s arm as the agents expertly spun him around, forced his hands behind his back, and clicked the ratchets into place. "Dad! Dad, do something! Call our lawyers!"
"He has no lawyers left, Olivia," Eleanor Price announced, her voice slicing through Olivia’s hysterics. "Because every penny of the Vance family trust has been frozen under federal forfeiture. And that brings us to you, Evelyn."
Evelyn, who had been trying to slink back through the glass sliding doors into the master salon, froze in terror as Eleanor pointed directly at the sparkling sapphires on her throat.
"That necklace," Eleanor stated, "is the registered property of the late Margaret Vance, cataloged under estate trust inventory item 402. You are in possession of stolen historical property valued in excess of eighty-five thousand dollars. Remove it immediately, or the Marshals will remove it for you."
Evelyn looked at Harold, her eyes wide with panic. "Harold! Tell her! You gave this to me!"
Harold stood paralyzed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish suffocating on dry land. The grand patriarch of Point Loma had been reduced to a shivering, broken old man in an ill-fitting tuxedo.
With trembling, manicured hands, Evelyn unclasped the necklace. Her fingers shook so violently that the clasp nearly broke. An NCIS agent stepped forward with an evidence bag, held it open, and caught the glittering stones as they fell.
"To all guests present," Marshal Keller bellowed, turning toward the stunned crowd on the lawn. "This property is under federal seal. You have ten minutes to vacate the premises via the lower gate. Any vehicle remaining after seventeen-thirty hours will be impounded under federal seizure guidelines."
The exodus was instantaneous.
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Nobody stopped to say goodbye to Olivia. Nobody offered Harold a ride. The two hundred socialites, politicians, and civic leaders grabbed their coats, abandoned their champagne flutes on the stone balustrades, and hurried down the driveway like rats fleeing a torpedoed vessel.
Within seven minutes, the grand terrace was empty—save for the caterers who were frantically packing their trucks, the federal agents, and the four members of the Vance family who had tried to steal my life.
