Chapter 9 - The Breaking of the Iron
In the dim, sage-green room in Surrey, time had lost all meaning for Tristan Montgomery.
The mechanical clock read four-forty-five in the afternoon.
He was shivering under the rough wool blanket, his fractured leg throbbing with an intensity that made him want to claw his own skin off.
Chloe Davenport was curled into a ball on the adjacent mattress, weeping softly into her hands.
"I hate you, Tristan," she whispered, her voice cracked with despair.
"You told me this would be an adventure."
"You told me you were a master of leverage."
"You brought me into this hellhole."
"Shut up!" Tristan hissed between clenched teeth.
"Just shut up!"
"As soon as the banks open on Monday, I will get us out of here."
"I have accounts that Reese doesn't know exist."
"I have contacts that can buy this entire medical agency and fire that gray-haired butcher by noon."
"You don't have anything, Mr. Montgomery," a calm, familiar voice broke through the silence.
Tristan froze.
The heavy wooden door clicked open, swinging wide on its hinges.
Matron Gertrude stood to one side, holding the door with absolute deference.
Stepping through the threshold was not another orderly with a bowl of cold porridge.
It was Detective Sarah Vance, flanked by two armed officers of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in dark tactical gear.
And walking steadily between them, leaning lightly on a single black cane, was me.
Tristan’s eyes widened until the whites showed like porcelain.
"Reese...?" he stammered, his voice trembling.
He looked at my face, then down at my right foot, which was securely laced into a walking boot.
"You're... you're walking?"
"I survived your poison, Tristan," I said, my voice echoing off the bare institutional walls.
"Your agricultural compound didn't do the job."
"Dr. Mensah saved my life."
"And Detective Vance recovered the rest of your little chemistry kit from the safe behind your modern art painting."
A sickening pallor washed over Tristan’s face, draining every drop of color from his skin.
"No... that’s impossible..."
"The safe was encrypted..."
"Everything is possible when you leave a trail of digital fraud across two federal jurisdictions," Detective Vance said, stepping forward.
She pulled a thick stack of certified legal documents from her leather folder.
"Tristan Montgomery, I have an active federal warrant for your arrest issued by the United States District Court for the Western District of Washington."
"The charges include attempted first-degree murder, aggravated assault with a toxic biological agent, wire fraud, grand larceny, and the criminal depletion of a custodial medical trust."
Tristan thrashed his arms, trying desperately to push himself backward against the headboard.
"This is Canada!" he shrieked, his voice rising in hysterical panic.
"You have no jurisdiction here!"
"I haven't been discharged by the orthopedic surgeons!"
"I am a patient in traction!"
The lead RCMP officer stepped forward, pulling a pair of heavy chrome handcuffs from his utility belt.
"The extradition treaty between Canada and the United States grants immediate custody transfer for violent felonies, sir."
"A specialized tactical medical transport unit is idling outside in the courtyard."
"You will receive your orthopedic care inside the medical ward of the federal detention center in Seattle."
The officer reached down, took Tristan’s uninjured right arm, and snapped the first cuff around his wrist.
"Wait! What about me?!" Chloe screamed, bolting up in her bed and clutching her fractured collarbone.
"I didn't poison anyone!"
"I was just his companion!"
Detective Vance turned her cold gaze upon the young influencer.
"Miss Davenport, the forensic sweep of Mr. Montgomery's offshore accounts revealed that you were the named corporate officer of the shell company receiving the stolen trust funds."
"You signed the electronic incorporation papers three days ago."
"You are being charged as an accessory after the fact to grand larceny and conspiracy to commit wire fraud."
"Two female RCMP officers are outside to take you into custody."
Chloe collapsed back onto her pillows, wailing uncontrollably as the reality of a federal prison sentence crashed down upon her.
Tristan looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot, his face wet with tears of terror and humiliation.
"Reese... please..." he begged, his voice cracking into a ragged whisper.
"Think about Leo."
"Think about our family."
"I was under so much stress at the firm... the market collapsed... I wasn't thinking clearly..."
"If you send me to prison, Leo won't have a father."
I stepped forward until I stood at the edge of his bed, looking down at the man I had loved for ten years.
I looked at the expensive gold signet ring on his finger.
I looked at the coward hiding behind his broken bones.
"You stopped being a father the moment you stole his medicine, Tristan."
"You stopped being human the moment you painted poison on my foot."
"You told me that if I went to the ER, I would humiliate you."
"Look around this room."
"You are leaving this country in the back of a police van, wrapped in a hospital gown, charged with trying to slaughter your own wife."
"You didn't just humiliate yourself."
"You erased yourself."
The RCMP officers unhooked his traction sling from the ceiling frame with practiced, unsympathetic efficiency.
Tristan screamed in agony as his broken leg shifted, but the officers didn't pause.
They rolled him onto a rigid tactical transport stretcher and strapped his wrists securely across his torso.
Matron Gertrude stood by the exit, watching the spectacle with her arms crossed over her broad chest.
As they wheeled Tristan past her, she reached out and tapped the clipboard against the stretcher rail.
"Discharge authorized, Mr. Montgomery."
May you like
"Your room key has been returned to the desk."
"Have a very safe flight."
