When eight-year-old Clara proudly presented her school project about her military father, her teacher didn’t simply give her a failing grade—she tossed the little girl’s work into the trash in front of twenty-two classmates…..007

CRASH-ROAR-SHATTER.

Through the smoke, through the pulverized concrete dust, through the freezing draft of subterranean air…

Moving with that fluid, terrifying, synchronized mechanical velocity of an active direct-action assault element…

Came the twelve SOG operators.

Their suppressed carbines came up to compressed high-ready, the red laser dots dancing across the chests, throats, and foreheads of the fourteen executives and jurists seated around the black granite table:

“FEDERAL INQUEST!

REMAIN SEATED!

HANDS ON THE TABLE SURFACE!

DO NOT REACH FOR BRIEFING FOLDERS!”

The clerk dropped the satellite transceiver onto the granite, the casing cracking across the display:

SMASH.

The two associate justices at the table vaulted to their feet, their hands flying to their chests:

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” an Associate Justice roared:

“THIS IS A CLOSED CONFERENCE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES!

ARMED GUARDS IN THIS ROOM CONSTITUTE AN ACT OF ARMED INSURRECTION!”

“Stand down, Justice,” a voice commanded from the breach.

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