Chapter 50 - The Iron Horizon
Federal law enforcement tactical vehicles rolled into the clearing thirty seconds later, their floodlights bathing the burning cabin in blinding, sterile white light.
Miller stepped forward, taking the empty pistol from Eleanor’s limp fingers and snapping heavy steel cuffs around her wrists. Eleanor didn't fight. She looked down at the mud staining her ivory coat, her face collapsing into the hollow, terrified mask of an old woman who had traded every human instinct for a fortune that had vanished into thin air.
As they loaded Eleanor into the back of an armored cruiser, Miller walked up beside me, handing me a dry thermal blanket.
"It's over, June," she said quietly. "Arthur and Claire are in Swiss federal custody awaiting extradition. Eleanor will spend the rest of her natural life in a supermax wing in West Virginia. The funds have been returned to the public trust."
I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, watching the smoke rise from the ashes of the cabin into the gray dawn breaking over the Blue Ridge Mountains. For the first time in twenty-eight years, my lungs didn't feel constricted. The phantom pressure on my throat was gone.
"Is Thomas safe?" I asked, looking toward the access road.
Miller paused, her radio crackling on her shoulder. Her expression tightened.
"Inspector Miller?" I asked, a sudden chill creeping back down my spine.
Miller slowly pulled a handheld satellite radio from her pocket and handed it to me. On the glowing screen, a text message had arrived just three seconds ago from an untraceable terminal in the Port of Norfolk:
*'You caught Arthur Holloway's body double in Zurich, little sister. Did you really think Dad would put Claire on an international flight without a decoy? Turn around.'*
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I froze.
From the dark tree line behind the federal perimeter, where the fog hung thickest over the limestone wash, the beam of a single red laser sight settled squarely over the center of my chest.
