“Colonel,” Julian said into the receiver. “It’s Vance. I need a favor from the Quantico legal unit regarding a local racketeering ring.”
FINAL PART
Forty-eight hours later, Royce Clark was sitting inside his private office in the back of an illegal gambling den downtown. He was pouring himself a glass of whiskey when the heavy oak door swung open.
Julian walked in alone, wearing his faded flannel shirt and dark jeans.
Royce reached under his desk for his sidearm, but Julian moved with terrifying speed, slamming Royce’s hand against the desk and tossing the weapon across the room before Royce could even disengage the safety.
“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Royce gasped, clutching his bruised wrist.
Julian pulled a thick, official federal dossier from his coat and dropped it onto the desk.
“That’s a joint federal indictment compiled by the FBI, local gang task forces, and military intelligence,” Julian said smoothly, taking a seat across from the crime boss. “Your crew made the mistake of targeting a former Force Recon instructor. Two of my former students are now special agents in charge of regional task forces.”
