Their gloved hands caught Former Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance by his vicuña lapels, spun his eighty-year-old frame ninety degrees against the wainscoting, and ratcheted heavy-duty, double-locking, high-security stainless-steel military transport restraints around his wrists with two sharp, definitive snaps:
*SNAP.*
*SNAP.*
A second set of chains clamped around his ankles—the identical stainless-steel irons used for capital traitors at the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth:
*SNAP-CLINK.*
With one sharp, professional motion, the female tactical marshal stripped the platinum Patek Philippe chronometer from Arthur’s trembling wrist, dropping the unearned luxury into a heavy mylar evidence bag:
*clink.*
Arthur shrieked into the wood paneling, his custom suit tearing along the shoulder seam, his tears mixing with the spilled wine on the floor:
“COOPER! TELL THEM! WE ARE CITIZENS! YOU CANNOT PUT A FORMER CHIEF JUSTICE IN LEAVENWORTH CHAINS IN FRONT OF NEWPORT’S SOCIAL ELITE!”
CLICK-CLACK.
The two federal marshals hauled Former Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance, Vanessa Reed, and Kendra Vance to their feet by their armpits, marching them in waist-chains and leg-irons down the center aisle toward the awaiting tactical transport BearCats idling on Bellevue Avenue:
