Their gloved hands caught Julian Vance and Former Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance by their vicuña lapels, spun their frames ninety degrees against the crane bumper, and ratcheted a pair of heavy-duty, double-locking, high-security stainless-steel military transport restraints around their wrists with four sharp, definitive snaps:
*SNAP.*
*SNAP.*
*SNAP.*
*SNAP.*
A second set of chains clamped around their ankles—the identical stainless-steel irons used for capital traitors at the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth:
*SNAP-CLINK.*
Julian Vance shrieked into the freezing drizzle, his designer overcoat tearing along the seams, his tears mixing with the slurry on the dock:
“DAVID! TELL THEM! WE ARE CITIZENS! YOU CANNOT PUT A SOVEREIGN FACTORING DIRECTOR IN MILITARY CHAINS ON AN INDUSTRIAL PIER!”
CLICK-CLACK.
United States Attorney Marcus Cooper stepped forward through the slurry, opening the four-hundred-page federal grand jury indictment:
*THUD.*
The heavy volume struck the hood of Arthur’s command Maybach, sending hairline fractures through the ballistic glass:
