Chapter 14 - Ashes of the Empire
High above the financial district of New Orleans, the private rooftop helipad of Vance Capital was swept by gale-force winds.
Marcus Vance’s chief corporate pilot had already spooled up the twin turbine engines of the sleek black AgustaWestland helicopter.
Marcus Vance rushed out onto the wet asphalt of the landing pad, clutching a heavy leather briefcase stuffed with bearer bonds and passport documents.
His nose was swollen and bruised from Julian’s pistol whipping, and his tailored suit was stained with his own blood.
He pulled open the passenger door of the aircraft, desperate to reach the international tarmac at Lakefront Airport before the federal indictments hit the wire.
Before his foot could touch the helicopter step, a deafening roar echoed across the rooftop.
A heavily armored twin-rotor transport helicopter bearing the unmarked matte-black livery of Delacroix Maritime dropped out of the storm clouds directly above them.
The downwash from the massive rotor blades hit the rooftop with the force of a hurricane, flattening Vance against the side of his own aircraft and blowing his briefcase out of his hands.
The papers scattered into the stormy night sky like dead leaves.
Four tactical operators fast-roped from the hovering transport, landing on the wet concrete with military precision.
Before Vance could draw the concealed pistol from his shoulder holster, two iron-toed boots slammed into his chest, sending him crashing backward onto the metal grating of the helipad.
The lead operator pinned Vance’s throat to the deck with a heavy combat boot, while a second operator zip-tied his wrists behind his back.
Julian Delacroix stepped down the lowered ramp of the transport helicopter, his ironwood cane tapping rhythmically against the wet metal deck.
He walked slowly toward the writhing billionaire, his dark overcoat billowing in the rotor wash.
Julian stopped above Vance, looking down at the fallen titan with cold, absolute detachment.
"You spent thirty years trying to steal an empire that was never yours, Marcus," Julian said, his voice carrying clearly over the screaming engines.
"You murdered Henri Thibodeaux to bury the truth."
"And tonight, your entire financial existence has been wiped from the ledgers of this city."
"You can't do this!" Vance choked out, spitting blood onto the concrete.
"I am a member of the board!"
"I have judges in my pocket!"
"You have nothing left, Marcus," Julian replied quietly.
"Your bank accounts are seized, your corporate charters are revoked, and your co-conspirators are singing to the federal grand jury."
Julian turned to the lead operator.
"Load him onto the transport."
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"Deliver him to the federal marshal holding cells in Baton Rouge."
"And ensure he never sees the sun rise over the Mississippi River again."
