Chapter 14 - The Fall of the Architect
The roar of police sirens from the highway did not stop the violence inside the main mansion.
Realizing his career, his freedom, and his life were finished if Luca Moretti survived to testify, Thomas Miller ordered his remaining contractors to execute a final, suicidal breach of the grand foyer.
The ornate oak doors of the mansion were blown completely off their hinges by an explosive charge, sending splinters of wood and stone flying across the marble entrance hall.
Luca stood at the top of the curved marble staircase, his ammunition nearly exhausted, his side soaked through with fresh blood.
Only Matteo and two guards remained beside him, their backs pressed against the ornate banisters.
Thomas Miller stepped through the smoking debris of the entrance, wearing a tactical windbreaker with federal insignia, flanked by six surviving private contractors.
"Moretti!" Miller yelled, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
"Drop your weapons and surrender to federal authority!"
"You're not federal authority, Miller!" Luca roared back, his voice booming like rolling thunder down the stairwell.
"You're a paid butcher on Salvatore Rossi’s payroll!"
"Your offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands are broadcasting on every national news outlet right now!"
"Look at your phone, you coward!"
Miller froze, his face twitching with sudden paranoia.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his encrypted smartphone.
The screen was inundated with incoming calls from the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the United States Attorney General, and emergency alerts displaying Eleanor’s live press broadcast.
"Kill him," Miller screamed, completely losing his mind to panic. "Kill him now! Burn the whole house down!"
Before his contractors could raise their rifles, the heavy glass skylight forty feet above their heads shattered into a million glittering pieces.
Dozens of elite tactical operators from the Illinois State Police SWAT team rappelled down on heavy ropes, their submachine guns barking with overwhelming, decisive force.
Miller’s contractors were neutralized within five seconds, pinned to the marble floor under the weight of superior numbers and legal authority.
Miller stumbled backward into the shattered doorway, turning to sprint toward his idling armored vehicle.
He didn't make it three steps.
Arthur Dawson emerged from the shadow of the portico, his face grim, his tactical shotgun leveled straight at Miller's knees.
Crack.
The non-lethal breaching round took Miller out at the shins, sending the corrupt official crashing face-first into the cold stone steps.
Arthur walked forward slowly, resting the hot barrel of his shotgun against the back of Miller's neck, pinning him to the ground just as the estate gates were completely swarmed by fifty flashing red and blue law-enforcement cruisers.
"Thomas Miller," Arthur said coldly, pulling out his authentic, active Treasury credentials from his pocket.
"You are under arrest for treason, conspiracy to commit murder, and armed racketeering."
"And this time, there is no ledger in the world that can buy you a way out."
From the top of the stairs, Luca slowly lowered his empty weapon.
He looked down through the haze of smoke and shattered glass, watching the handcuffs click around Miller's wrists.
Then, his knees finally gave out.
Luca collapsed against the marble floor, his vision blurring, the exhaustion of two years of psychological torment and twelve hours of brutal combat finally claiming him.
The last thing he saw before darkness pulled him under was the sound of light, hurried footsteps running up the marble stairs toward him.
May you like
"Luca!"
It was Claire’s voice, ringing clear, terrified, and full of an undeniable, desperate devotion.
