Chapter 5 - The Trap is Set
The rain returned to North Carolina with apocalyptic force, thunder rumbling across the dark skies over Charlotte.
At the Sterling Hall estate, Arthur Sterling was losing his mind.
He paced across his grand library like a rabid animal, his grey hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. Julian sat at his desk, frantically typing on his phone, calling offshore bank managers who were refusing to answer his calls.
"They frozen the Zurich accounts!" Julian panicked, dropping his phone onto the desk. "Father! The Swiss authorities just issued an emergency freeze order on all Vance-Sterling holding accounts! The SEC has seized our corporate headquarters in downtown Charlotte!"
"Shut up!" Arthur roared, slamming his fist onto a glass table, shattering it into a dozen cracks. "We still have the London team! Captain Miller assured me his team reached North Carolina three hours ago!"
"Father, this is madness!" Julian pleaded, standing up, his face pale with terror. "Grant has military-grade security at his estate! If we launch an armed attack on Mercer Manor, the federal authorities will intervene! We'll be facing treason and domestic terrorism charges!"
"If Mara speaks to the Federal Grand Jury on Friday, we are going to prison for the rest of our lives anyway!" Arthur screamed, his voice cracking with insane fury. "Everything I built... forty years of political power, hundreds of millions of dollars... wiped out by that ungrateful bitch and her arrogant husband! I will burn Mercer Manor to the ground before I let them drag me into a courtroom!"
Arthur grabbed his coat and picked up a heavy black satellite phone. "Connect me to Captain Miller. Tell him the contract is doubled. Ten million dollars cash if they bring me Mara’s body and kill Grant Mercer tonight."
What Arthur Sterling didn't know was that every single digit dialed on that satellite phone was being intercepted.
Three miles away, inside a high-tech mobile command vehicle parked on a forested ridge overlooking the highway, Grant Mercer sat wearing tactical radio headphones. Beside him sat Marcus Vance and two senior agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"We got it," Agent Miller of the FBI announced, turning to Grant. "That satellite call constitutes explicit solicitation of capital murder and conspiracy to commit domestic terrorism. The Attorney General has just authorized an immediate tactical strike on Arthur Sterling’s location."
"No," Grant said, his voice flat and commanding.
Agent Miller frowned. "Mr. Mercer, this is an official federal operation now—"
"Arthur Sterling sent an armed mercenary team to my home," Grant interrupted, stepping up to the agent, his dark eyes fixed on the surveillance screen. "If you arrest him at his estate now, his high-priced corporate lawyers will file ten thousand motions, drag the trial out for a decade, and claim he was mentally unfit. I want him caught in the act. I want him at the gates of my estate, holding the weapon, ordering the kill."
Agent Miller looked at the absolute, terrifying resolve in Grant’s face. He knew Grant held enough political clout in Washington to make or break director-level appointments.
"What's your plan, Mercer?" Miller asked.
Grant turned to Marcus Vance. "Activate the Mercer Manor defense protocols. Move Mara, Sophie, and Nora into the deep subterranean panic room beneath the east wing. Clear the main house of all non-essential staff."
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Grant pulled a sleek black tactical sidearm from his shoulder holster, checking the laser sight.
"Tonight," Grant said, his voice ringing with absolute, fatal authority, "we let the wolves walk straight into the trap."
