Chapter 12 - The Iron Verdict
The blue flash of the electromagnetic pulse discharge illuminated the hangar bay with blinding intensity, followed by a sharp, violent series of pops as the delicate silicon inside the Mercer drones roasted in their casings.
The high-pitched whine of the turbines sputtered and died. The pulsing red lights flickered, turned green for a fraction of a second, and went dark forever.
A heavy, ringing silence fell over Hangar Bay Two, broken only by the steady hum of the ship’s ventilation systems and Trevor’s pathetic, muffled sniffling.
I holstered my sidearm and looked down at my stepbrother.
"Master Chief," I said, without taking my eyes off Trevor.
"Ma'am?"
"Put Mr. Mercer in irons. Confine him to the ship’s brig under armed guard until we dock at Norfolk. Charge him with federal espionage, conspiracy to commit treason, and reckless endangerment of naval personnel."
Two burly Navy Master-at-Arms stepped forward, their heavy combat boots clattering against the steel deck. One of them pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his tactical belt.
"No! Kate, no!" Trevor shrieked, kicking his legs as the sailors grabbed his arms and hoisted him off the deck. "You can't do this! We’re family! Call Dad! Arthur will fix this! Arthur has friends in the Senate!"
"Arthur is sitting in a holding cell in Alexandria, Trevor," I said coldly. "He doesn't have any friends left. And neither do you."
The sailors dragged Trevor away, his screams echoing down the cavernous steel passageways of the carrier until a watertight hatch slammed shut, cutting off his voice completely.
General Vance stepped up beside me, watching the EOD team begin the physical teardown of the blackened drone components.
"The White House just issued a press release," Vance said quietly, handing me his tablet. "President Hayes announced the immediate cancellation of all contracts with Mercer Defense Tech. The Department of Justice has formally indicted Arthur Mercer on charges of corporate espionage and defrauding the United States."
I took the tablet. On the screen was a live news broadcast from outside the federal courthouse in northern Virginia.
There, surrounded by a swarm of flashing cameras, federal marshals were escorting Arthur Mercer down the concrete steps. His hands were cuffed in front of him. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his hair disheveled in the wind.
For a single second, the camera caught his face.
He didn't look like a billionaire. He didn't look like the ruthless titan who had cast me aside twenty-six years ago for having the audacity to serve my country.
He looked old. Broken. Completely hollowed out by the realization that the world he had built out of paper, pride, and contempt had collapsed upon his own head.
Behind him, Evelyn was being led away by another pair of agents, sobbing hysterically as reporters shoved microphones in her face, asking how much she knew about the Cypriot bank accounts.
I closed the screen and handed the tablet back to Vance.
"Are you all right, Kate?" Marcus asked softly.
I walked over to the open hangar bay door. Outside, the Atlantic squall was beginning to break. A sliver of pale afternoon sun cut through the heavy gray clouds, painting a path of gold across the rolling black waves.
"Twenty-six years ago, Marcus," I said, my voice carrying over the wind, "Arthur told me that if I walked out his door, I would never amount to anything. He told me that without his name, I was nothing."
I looked down at the four silver stars pinned to my shoulder, gleaming cleanly in the salt air.
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"He spent his whole life trying to own the world," I whispered. "And he died inside his own cage."
***
