Part 2: The Firefight at Arlington
## Part 2: The Treeline Threat
The world dissolved into chaos in less than half a second.
CRACK.
A high-velocity bullet shattered the heavy stone headstone just three feet to my left, spraying sharp marble dust into the air.
Beatrice screamed, falling backward into the mud as Scarlett threw herself onto the ground, covering her stomach.
"Down! Everybody down!" General Bradley roared.
My military instincts overrode my motherhood panic.
I grabbed Leo and Maya by their collars, pulling them into the shallow depression of an open grave plot, while my youngest boy, Sam, tumbled in right behind me.
"Stay flat!" I ordered them, my voice cracking with authority. "Don't look up until I tell you!"
Two black SUVs from the General's security detail tore across the manicured lawns, their tires ripping through the sod as they formed a bulletproof wall between us and the eastern woods.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.
Automatic gunfire erupted from the trees, the rounds thudding heavily against the armored plating of the military vehicles.
The reporters were scattered, running toward the main gates, dropping their heavy cameras into the slush.
General Bradley was behind the wheel of the closest SUV, his sidearm drawn, his face entirely calm.
"Alex! Get the kids into the back!" he yelled over the sound of the engine.
I didn't wait for a second invitation.
I scooped Sam up, throwing him into the rear leather seat, while Leo and Maya scrambled in over the floorboards.
I looked back down the hill.
Beatrice was dragging herself toward the car, her cashmere coat ruined, her expensive jewelry covered in gray mud.
"Alex! Help me!" she shrieked, her hand reaching out toward my boots. "Don't leave us here!"
Scarlett was right behind her, crying hysterically, her fingers digging into the wet grass.
I looked at the woman who had told me I was "beneath" her family.
I looked at the mistress who had stolen my husband while my children were in incubators.
Then I looked at the treeline, where a second flash of muzzle fire sparked against the dark pine needles.
"Get them in," I muttered to Marcus, the General's lead security officer.
Marcus grabbed Beatrice by the collar, hoisting her into the secondary vehicle like a sack of laundry, while another soldier lifted Scarlett.
The doors slammed shut.
The SUVs accelerated, the heavy four-wheel-drive systems gripping the slippery mud as we sped out of Arlington's gates, leaving Garrett’s silver-plated casket sitting alone in the freezing rain.
Inside the vehicle, Sam was crying softly, his small face buried in Leo’s jacket.
"You're safe, sweetie," I murmured, my hand resting on his head while my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour.
"General, what decryption keys?" I demanded, turning toward the front seat. "Garrett left me with nothing but seventy thousand dollars in medical debt and a foreclosure notice. I haven't seen him in seven years."
General Bradley kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, watching the highway behind us.
"He didn't give them to you directly, Alex," the General said.
"Three months ago, a secure package was delivered to the military hospital where your triplets were born."
"It was filed under their names as an 'educational trust.'"
"But the data inside isn't a bank account. It’s the entire encrypted ledger of the syndicate's North American operations."
My breath caught in my throat.
The trust fund.
Two months ago, I had received a notification from the army medical legal office stating that a anonymous donor had cleared the triplets' remaining premium balances.
I thought it was a charity organization.
It wasn't a charity.
It was Garrett, using his abandoned children as a digital dead-drop because he knew the military wouldn't search a pediatric medical folder without a federal warrant.
"They want it back," I said.
"Yes," General Bradley replied, his face grim. "The syndicate is losing millions every day the ledger remains locked. And they know that as a military intelligence officer, you are the only person with the skill set to decrypt it."
Suddenly, a heavy black sedan swerved in front of our convoy, blocking the entrance to the highway ramp.
May you like
The brake lights flared.
The window slid down, and the black barrel of a submachine gun emerged into the rainy afternoon light.
