Chapter 7 - The Counter-Strike
I leaned back in my chair and let out a long, slow breath.
"You really are your father's daughter, Vivian," I said quietly.
She frowned, slightly unnerved by my lack of panic. "Don't try to look composed, Arthur. You've lost."
I pulled a small silver remote from my pocket and pressed the red button in the center.
The large frame on the wall behind my desk—a painting of the Pennsylvania countryside—slid silently to the side, revealing a fifty-inch high-definition monitor.
On the screen was a live video conference feed.
Sitting on one side of the screen was Harrison Cole, flanked by two senior officials from the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Public Corruption Division. Sitting on the other side of the screen was Deputy Attorney General Sarah Vance—no relation to Richard Vance—who was overseeing the state's judicial oversight task force.
Vivian’s face drained of every ounce of blood. She stumbled back a step, her phone slipping from her fingers and bouncing silently off the thick Persian rug.
"Mrs. Hale," Deputy AG Vance said through the speaker, her voice cold and heavy with authority. "We have been monitoring this audio and video stream live for the past forty-five minutes under a federal emergency wiretap authorization signed two hours ago by District Chief Judge Raymond."
Vivian gasped, her hands going to her throat. "This... this is illegal! This is a private conversation!"
"It was a private conversation taking place inside a home where federal medical fraud, child endangerment, and witness tampering were actively being committed," Harrison Cole spoke up from the screen. "Furthermore, Vivian, your father was detained fifteen minutes ago outside the Capital Club. He is currently being questioned regarding illegal judicial intervention."
Vivian’s eyes darted frantically around the room, looking at the door, the windows, as if looking for an escape route from a room that had suddenly turned into a steel cage.
"Your staff didn't sign those statements for you, Vivian," I said, standing up from behind my desk. "David Stern’s security team replaced your domestic staff at six this morning. The people you paid off were picked up by federal marshals three hours ago."
"Arthur..." Vivian stammered, her voice suddenly dropping into a desperate, pleading tone. The arrogant, ruthless socialite vanished, replaced by a terrified woman realizing her entire world was crumbling around her ankles. "Arthur... please... I was doing this for us... for our family's future..."
"Don't touch me," I said as she took a desperate step toward me.
The heavy oak doors of the study swung open.
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Four uniformed federal agents, led by a female senior agent with a drawn sidearm, stepped into the room.
"Vivian Hale," the lead agent announced sternly. "You are under arrest for federal healthcare fraud, conspiracy to commit child endangerment, witness tampering, and obstruction of justice. Put your hands behind your back."
