Chapter 13 - The Sister’s Ultimatum
I stepped out onto the porch, my right hand resting discreetly on the grip of my Sig Sauer beneath my uniform jacket.
Miller and his agents had already formed a loose tactical triangle around a sleek, midnight-blue Bentley that had parked directly behind our SUV.
A private security driver in a tailored suit stepped out, scanning the perimeter with cold, professional eyes.
Then the rear door opened.
Eleanor Vance Mercer stepped onto the gravel.
At sixty-two, she looked immaculate, styled with the precision of someone who believed that money could outrank mortality.
Her silver hair was swept up in a flawless French twist, her cream-colored cashmere coat was spotless, and large diamond studs caught the pale sunlight.
Yet behind the designer sunglasses, I could see the feverish strain around her thin mouth.
"Stand down, Major," I commanded Miller calmly, descending the two porch steps.
Miller hesitated, then lowered his weapon, though he remained within three paces of my flank.
Eleanor stopped ten feet away, looking around the modest clapboard house with undisguised contempt.
"Forty years, and you still live like a pauper in the mud, Katherine," she said, her voice smooth, cultured, and venomous.
"This house was built on honest work, Eleanor," I said, my voice steady and cold.
"Something neither you nor Arthur ever understood."
She let out a dry, dismissive laugh.
"Honest work doesn't keep the lights on in Washington, my dear niece."
"Honest work doesn't build missile guidance systems or negotiate trade pacts with NATO allies."
"No," I replied, taking a step forward.
"Honest work just pays for the funeral when your defective guidance systems get American soldiers killed in Kunar province."
Eleanor’s expression tightened, the mask of high-society composure cracking for a fraction of a second.
"You think putting Arthur in a cage makes you a victor?" she asked, stepping closer.
"You think this little crusade of yours is going to restore your mother’s name?"
"My mother’s name was never tarnished," I said.
"Yours, however, is being typed into federal arrest warrants as we speak."
Eleanor smiled, a sharp, predatory baring of porcelain teeth.
"The warrants won't be signed, Katherine."
"Why do you think Trevor was able to leave Manassas today?"
"You think Arthur was the only Mercer with friends in high places?"
"I built those friendships while Arthur was playing the loud, blustering titan on cable television."
"I was the one who hosted the dinners."
"I was the one who funded the PACs."
She pulled a thin, platinum-embossed envelope from her leather handbag and tossed it onto the hood of Miller’s SUV.
"What is that?" I asked without looking down.
"A surrender agreement," Eleanor said coldly.
"You will sign an affidavit stating that the evidence you presented to the Inspector General was compromised by internal bias."
"You will step down from your post in the Joint Staff."
"And in exchange, you will receive thirty million dollars, transferred anywhere in the world, tax-free, under an NDA that guarantees you never speak the name Mercer again."
I looked at the envelope, then raised my eyes back to Eleanor’s face.
"And if I refuse?"
"If you refuse," Eleanor said softly, leaning forward until I could smell her expensive French perfume, "your military record will be dismantled piece by piece before the Senate Armed Services Committee tomorrow morning."
"We will leak files showing you executed unauthorized strikes during your deployment in Helmand."
"We will paint you as an unstable, rogue commander settling a childhood grudge with taxpayers' dollars."
"And Trevor will return to take command of the family firm with the backing of three foreign sovereign funds."
I didn't blink.
I took one slow, deliberate step toward her until I was standing inches from her face.
"Eleanor," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of a firing squad.
"You spent thirty years pretending you were better than my mother."
"You stole her husband, you stole her money, and you thought you could erase her bloodline."
"Look at me."
"I am a Major General in the United States Army."
"I have stood under mortar fire while your son was crying in a private boarding school."
"You do not threaten me on my mother’s soil."
I reached out, picked up the platinum envelope, and tore it in half.
Then I tore it in half again, letting the white scraps flutter down onto the gravel between Eleanor’s designer shoes.
"Get off my property," I told her.
"Before I have Miller arrest you for attempted bribery of a flag officer."
Eleanor’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson.
She stepped back into her Bentley without another word.
The heavy door slammed shut, and the luxury sedan sped down the driveway, spraying gravel across the grass.
Miller walked up to my side, watching the car disappear.
"She wasn't bluffing about the Senate hearing, Kate," he said grimly.
"Senator Jonathan Cross just scheduled an emergency oversight session for ten hundred hours tomorrow."
"I know," I answered, turning back toward the porch.
"Call my legal counsel."
"Tell them we aren't defending."
May you like
"Tomorrow morning, we attack."
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