Chapter 3 - The Hospital Lockdown
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The heavy electronic magnetic locks on Providence Medical Center’s main glass doors engaged simultaneously.
Down the long marble corridor, eight men in black tactical overcoats and Kevlar vests marched into the foyer, moving with the synchronized, lethal discipline of elite military contractors.
Leading them was Marcus Stone—my global head of private operations.
"Perimeter sealed, Boss," Marcus reported in a low, gravelly baritone, ignoring the terrified nurses and orderlies. "The private airfield in Anchorage is grounded. Every maritime port exit and border checkpoint across the state has been locked under your biometric priority protocol."
Rosalind’s face drained of every remaining drop of color. "You... you cannot hold us here! This is an American hospital! Officer! Security! Arrest these men!"
Two hospital security guards stepped forward, but the moment Marcus produced an embossed gold federal task-force badge and a direct executive order signed by the United States Marshal Service, both guards stepped back and bowed their heads.
Christopher fell to his knees on the hospital floorboards, clutching his head in sheer, unadulterated panic.
"Mom... shut up... please, just shut up!" Christopher sobbed, tears and sweat dripping onto his designer boots. "He ran the North Pacific Syndicate! He wiped out the Chen cartel in three days! We're dead... we're all dead..."
I walked over, stopping two feet from where Christopher knelt on the ground.
"You disabled the driveway security camera at 2:15 a.m., Christopher," I said softly, my voice devoid of any shouting, sounding like a knife sliding across ice. "You held her arms while Valerie dragged her through the snow. Did you think the snow would bury your debt?"
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Christopher began hyperventilating, shaking his head frantically: "It was Mom! Mom said if Samantha signed, we could sell the resort land to the European hotel group for forty million! I didn't want to leave her out there! I swear, Gareth!"
"Save your breath for the judge, Christopher," I said. "Marcus, take them into the private consultation room. Strip their phones and cuff them to the radiator."
