CHAPTER 2: THE MIDNIGHT STACK ON ONE FIRST STREET
02:18:44 EST.
The White Hawk did not flare its rotors over Joint Base Andrews or request civilian approach clearance from the Federal Aviation Administration.
Cleared directly into Prohibited Airspace P-56 under presidential tactical precedence, it descended vertically through the freezing sleet directly onto the wide, granite plaza of the East Front of the United States Supreme Court.
The sixty-foot composite rotor blades flared in an ear-splitting, one-hundred-and-twenty-decibel roar that flattened the shrubbery along the marble balustrades and blew the frozen slush off the bronze Corinthian lampposts:
SCREEECH-ROAR.
The heavy cabin door slid back on its tracks:
CLANG.
Standing on the rain-slicked marble plaza, surrounded by twenty operators from the United States Marshals Service Special Operations Group (SOG) and the United States Supreme Court Police Tactical Response Team, was Chief Judge Eleanor Mercer.
Eighty-two years old.
The Presiding Judge of the Second Circuit.
Admiral David Mercer’s older sister.
Marisol’s aunt.
She stood five feet eleven inches tall in the howling winter gale, wearing a dark-navy wool judicial overcoat over an un-ironed civilian three-piece suit, her silver hair pulled back into an unyielding architectural bun, her gloved right hand resting over an antique, gold-headed walking cane carved in the likeness of an artillery surveyor’s transit.
Beside her stood Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Bennett, Chief Trial Counsel for the Military District of Washington, wearing his dress green uniform, holding an unsealed, four-hundred-page leather litigation brief bound with crimson silk ribbon:
THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
SPECIAL ADMIRALTY CHANCERY // DOCKET: 2026-CR-00914-TREASON
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA & THE MERCER-VANCE SOVEREIGN ESTATE
v. CHIEF JUSTICE ARTHUR M. STERLING-VANCE,
CHLOE E. STERLING, ET AL.
CHARGES: CAPITAL HIGH TREASON UNDER ARTICLE THREE, SECTION THREE,
PREMEDITATED ATTEMPTED MASS MURDER BY AIRCRAFT SABOTAGE (18 U.S.C. § 32),
AND THE SEDITIOUS USURPATION OF SOVEREIGN ADMIRALTY ESCROWS.
EXTRAORDINARY CAPIAS BENCH WARRANT: IMMEDIATE ARMED ATTACHMENT.
I stepped down the aluminum air-stair.
My hand-welted leather boots made a clean, concussive tack… tack… tack against the wet marble.
Barnaby walked beside my knee, his dark coat glistening with sleet, his amber eyes locked onto the massive bronze central portals.
Beside me walked Commander Marisol Mercer, her service bridge coat unbuttoned, her gold oak leaves catching the floodlights.
Behind us walked Vice Admiral David Mercer and United States Attorney Marcus Cooper.
Judge Eleanor Mercer did not offer a polite greeting.
She turned her slate-gray eyes onto me, looked down at Arthur Mercer’s tweed jacket, down at the unpolished bronze transit pin, down at the titanium key resting in my gloved right hand, and then up to Marisol:
“Is the chain of custody intact, Commander Mercer?” the Judge asked.
Her voice had no volume; it was fifty decibels of pure, un-forgiving Maine iron:
“Did Chloe Sterling surrender the Bel-Air conveyance files without alteration?”
“Chloe Sterling and her contract pilots are in federal transport chains at Miramar and Fort Lewis, Aunt Eleanor,” Marisol answered:
“The estate in Bel-Air has been sealed under military evidence order.”
“The communications logs have been decrypted by naval intelligence.”
“The aircraft sabotage team was neutralized over Idaho.”
“And the four-hundred-page vellum deed to Conduit Ten is pristine.”
Judge Mercer unsealed the execution block of the capias warrant:
“Chief Justice Arthur Vance has locked the monolithic, four-inch-thick bronze blast doors of the West Conference Room,” the Judge stated:
“He has severed all external civilian telecommunications lines with the Department of Justice.”
“He believes that your aircraft disintegrated over the Canadian Rockies.”
“He believes that the sixty billion dollars from Zurich will clear before the morning opening of the financial exchanges.”
“And he is preparing to sign the Sovereign Modernization Mandamus in eleven minutes, permanently deeding Conduit Ten to his private consortium in Vaduz.”
Judge Mercer pointed her cane toward the bronze central entrance of One First Street:
“Alexander. Marisol.”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“Your fathers gave forty-two years of their lives to survey that rock.”
The Judge turned her cold, flint-gray eyes onto the waiting tactical stack:
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“Now… let’s go show the Chief Justice… what happens when the father he tried to bury comes to audit the Court.”
***
