Chapter 7 - The Interception at the Private Runway
At 4:45 AM, a sleek black Mercedes sedan screeched onto the private aviation tarmac at Van Nuys Airport, parking beside a chartered Gulfstream G650 with its engines idling.
Julian Cole—dressed in a designer cashmere sweater, wearing a platinum Rolex—rushed out of the terminal carrying two heavy aluminum security briefcases containing encrypted cryptocurrency cold wallets, foreign bearer bonds, and $400,000 in banded cash.
Victoria sprinted toward him in her damp high heels, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Julian! Thank God! Did the Swiss transfer clear?!”
“The transfer is pending authorization,” Julian muttered nervously, checking his phone. “Let’s get in the air before Montgomery’s lawyers wake up!”
They rushed toward the aircraft’s boarding stairs.
SCREEECH.
Six black armored Suburbans and four marked Federal Task Force cruisers roared onto the tarmac, cutting across the runway in a high-speed tactical diamond formation, completely blocking the aircraft.
High-intensity floodlights illuminated the tarmac, turning the pre-dawn darkness into blinding noon.
“FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP THE LUGGAGE AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” a voice boomed through a tactical loudspeaker.
Julian dropped the aluminum briefcases, raising his trembling hands in absolute terror.
The passenger door of the lead Suburban opened.
Stepping out onto the rain-slicked asphalt, dressed in a bespoke charcoal-grey wool coat, radiating sovereign, untouchable authority, was Edward Montgomery.
Beside him walked Senior Special Agent Marcus Stone of the FBI and Chief Trial Litigator Julian Hayes.
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Victoria’s jaw dropped open. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the wet tarmac in pure, unadulterated horror.
“E... Edward...?” Victoria stammered, her voice cracking into a high, pathetic squeak.
