Chapter 4 - THE THREAT AT THE GATE
Two days passed under a cloud of unspoken dread.
I took a leave of absence from my engineering firm, claiming a family emergency. I spent forty-eight hours installing high-definition security cameras around our house, reinforced deadbolts on every door, and motion sensors along the perimeter fence.
Dr. Vance came at midnight on Thursday. His face was paler than usual, his eyes dark with exhaustion and fear.
"We have a problem," Vance said as soon as I locked the front door behind him.
"The silver SUV?" I asked, guiding him into the kitchen.
Vance looked at me in shock. "You saw them?"
"They were watching us at the harbor," I said, setting a glass of water in front of him. "Who are they, Julian?"
Vance sank into a kitchen chair, pressing his palms against his temples. "Richard Sterling isn't just a medical broker. He’s a venture capitalist who tried to buy the patent for my viral vector compound two years ago. I refused to sell it to him because he wanted to price it at half a million dollars per dose. He wanted to make it an exclusive luxury for the ultra-wealthy."
"So when you started treating patients illegally..." I realized, my stomach tightening.
"He found out," Vance said grimly. "He’s been tracking my shipments of synthesized reagents. Yesterday, his lawyers sent a formal cease-and-desist to my research facility, claiming I am using stolen intellectual property. If Sterling goes to the FDA or the DEA, I get arrested, my lab gets seized, and the remaining doses of Claire's treatment will be destroyed."
"How many doses does she have left?" I demanded.
"Four," Vance said, holding up four fingers. "Four injections over the next eleven days. If she misses even one, the tumor's viral resistance kicks in, and the treatment fails permanently."
Suddenly, the security monitor on the kitchen counter chimed.
A red light flashed. Motion Detected: Front Perimeter.
I immediately grabbed my phone, opening the live camera feed.
Standing at the front gate of our driveway was a man in a sleek tailored suit, holding a black leather briefcase. Beside him stood two large, muscular men in dark coats with their hands folded in front of them.
The man in the suit looked directly into the camera lens, smiled smoothly, and pressed the gate buzzer.
BUZZ.
Claire came down the stairs, wearing her robe, her face white as chalk. "Daniel... who is that?"
I looked at Dr. Vance. His eyes were wide with panic. "That's him," Vance whispered. "That's Richard Sterling."
I walked over to the kitchen drawer, pulled out a heavy steel flashlight, and looked at Claire. "Take Dr. Vance into the basement. Lock the door from the inside and don't come out until I call your phone."
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"Daniel, no!" Claire gasped, grabbing my arm. "Sterling is dangerous! He has politicians and federal agents in his pocket!"
"He’s on my driveway," I said, my voice dropping into a flat, lethal register. "And nobody threatens my family on my land."
