Chapter 5 - The Descent into Blackwood
The journey through the midnight rain was a nightmare executed at ninety miles an hour.
We rode in the back of a black armored Maybach, flanked by four dark SUVs that ran through red lights and cleared traffic like an invading army. Rain lashed against the bulletproof glass, reflecting the neon signs of the city suburbs as we climbed toward the wealthy, isolated estate district of Blackwood Hills.
I sat on the plush leather seat, my hands gripping the handles of two heavy red emergency medical bags. Across from me sat Sebastian, his face carved out of stone. On his lap lay an unsealed police dossier that Marco had pulled from the county records server within twenty minutes.
"Richard Vance isn't just a former hospital administrator," Marco spoke from the front passenger seat, turning around with a tablet computer. "He's currently the front-runner for the open State Senate seat. His entire political platform is built on family values, traditional reform, and public integrity."
"Which is why a seventeen-year-old unmarried daughter giving birth to an illegitimate child would destroy his entire career," I realized, shivering despite the car's heater. "He didn't just want to hide the baby in the foster system. He wanted to erase any trace that Hannah was ever pregnant."
"Where is his primary estate?" Sebastian asked, his hands completely steady as he loaded a heavy black magazine into his sidearm.
"A twenty-acre gated compound at the edge of the Blackwood reserve," Marco replied. "Private security guards on the perimeter, thermal cameras, electric fencing. He moved his personal medical staff there three hours ago."
"Personal medical staff?" I interjected, looking up. "If he has private doctors at the house, why didn't he keep her at Pine Valley?"
"Because private doctors can be paid to sign false death certificates," Sebastian said, the icy chill in his voice filling the vehicle. "If my daughter dies of 'unforeseen surgical complications' inside a private mansion, Vance buries her quietly, mourns publicly as a grieving father, and keeps his senate campaign running without a single stain."
My stomach turned into a tight knot of pure nausea. The depth of human depravity before me was staggering.
The Maybach screeched to a halt at the edge of a pine forest overlooking a massive, limestone estate surrounded by high wrought-iron gates. Spotlights swept across the wet driveway.
"The gates are locked, Boss," the driver reported. "Sensors show four armed guards at the main guardhouse."
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Sebastian didn't hesitate. "Ram it."
The lead SUV accelerated past us, its heavy steel bull-bar smashing directly into the wrought-iron gates at fifty miles an hour. The metal sheared off with a deafening screech of tearing iron and shattering concrete. Alarms began blaring across the estate, red emergency lights flashing along the stone perimeter walls.
