“The… the Chief of Naval Operations…?! Why are you boarding a civilian commercial flight with an armed special warfare assault team?!”
Vice Admiral David Mercer slowly lowered his salute, his cold, flint-gray eyes shifting down to lock directly onto Melissa with thirty tons of sub-zero naval diamond:
“You are not a civilian passenger on an ordinary flight, Melissa,” Admiral Mercer announced, every syllable dropping like an anvil onto stone:
“You are an adverse corporate factoring agent operating under the criminal direction of Former Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance!”
Admiral Mercer turned to the two federal marshals standing behind him on the gantry:
“Marshals. Secure the prisoner.”
CLACK.
Two SOG tactical operators stepped forward in synchronized, terrifying mechanical velocity across the cabin aisle:
Their gloved hands caught Melissa Vance by the tailored collar of her ruined cashmere cardigan, spun her sixty-kilogram frame ninety degrees against the seatback, and ratcheted a pair of heavy-duty, double-locking, high-security stainless-steel military transport restraints around her wrists with two sharp, definitive snaps:
