Chapter 8 - The Showdown at Westchester
Rain began to pour over the runway at Westchester Executive Airport as Julian Croft’s private Gulfstream jet idled on the tarmac, its engines whining loudly against the storm.
Julian ran across the wet tarmac, holding a briefcase packed with bearer bonds and diamond certificates, flanked by two armed bodyguards.
As he reached the stairs of the jet, two black SUVs careened onto the tarmac, their headlights cutting through the thick rain, pulling up in a tight V-formation to block the aircraft’s front nose gear.
The driver’s door opened, and Charlotte Vale stepped out into the pouring rain, holding an emergency court injunction high in her hand.
"Going somewhere, Julian?" Charlotte shouted over the roar of the jet engines.
Julian turned, his hair plastered to his forehead by the rain, his eyes wild with the frantic terror of a trapped animal. "Get out of my way, Charlotte! I have fifty million dollars in this bag! I can give you half! We can share the empire!"
"My mother gave you her trust, her heart, and her friendship," Charlotte said, walking slowly toward him across the wet asphalt, completely unbothered by the rain soaking her suit. "And you paid her back with poison."
"She was weak!" Julian screamed, drawing a small, nickel-plated revolver from his coat pocket. "She wanted to give away the land to charitable trusts! She was going to ruin everything we built! I did what was necessary!"
The two bodyguards beside Julian looked at the four armed federal marshals stepping out from behind Charlotte’s SUV with rifles raised. Recognizing the absolute futility of the situation, both bodyguards slowly raised their hands and backed away into the shadows.
"Drop the gun, Julian," Chief Vance ordered over a bullhorn from behind Charlotte. "You're completely surrounded."
Julian looked at the police cars pouring onto the airfield from the main gates, then looked at Charlotte, who stood just ten feet away from him, staring at him without a single trace of fear in her eyes.
"You really are your mother’s daughter," Julian spat, his hand trembling on the grip of the revolver.
"No," Charlotte replied softly, her voice carrying clearly over the sound of the rain. "My mother was merciful. I am not."
Before Julian could raise the barrel, Vance fired a single, non-lethal shot from his rifle. The bullet struck Julian’s right wrist, sending the revolver spinning across the wet tarmac into a puddle.
Julian collapsed onto his knees, clutching his hand, crying out in pain as federal marshals swarmed over him, forcing his face into the wet concrete and locking heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
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Charlotte walked up to him, looking down at the broken man lying at her feet.
"Victoria-Rose sends her regards," Charlotte whispered, turning her back on him as the federal agents dragged him away into the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars.
