Chapter 8 - The Fall of the House of Blake
At the Blake estate on Oakridge Hill, the morning fog had given way to a gray, chilly drizzle.
Bradley threw the last leather duffel bag into the trunk of his Mercedes SUV, slamming the lid shut with a violent curse. In the passenger seat, Eleanor was checking her makeup in the visor mirror, her hands shaking as she tried to apply lipstick over lips that were pale with anxiety.
"Is he at the silos?" she demanded, turning to her son. "Bradley, we don't have time to play games with her! The charter leaves at five! If the county prosecutor catches wind of what was on that dark web server—"
"I told you, she’s bleeding out at the mill!" Bradley snarled, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine. "I’m going to drive past, make sure she's not breathing, and leave her for the coyotes. By the time they find a body, we'll be in San José with five million in untraceable Tether."
He shifted into drive and hit the accelerator.
The Mercedes surged down the circular driveway toward the main iron gates.
Suddenly, the wooded tree line on both sides of the driveway exploded with blinding red and blue strobes.
CRUNCH!
A heavy, matte-black BearCat armored vehicle smashed through the ornamental wrought-iron gates from the street, blocking the driveway entirely. Four marked State Police cruisers slid onto the grass, flanking the vehicle from the rear.
"Federal agents! Cut the engine! Step out of the vehicle with your hands up!"
The voice boomed through a public address speaker, echoing through the valley like thunder.
Bradley slammed on the brakes, the SUV skidding across the wet gravel. "No! No, no, no!" he screamed, pounding the steering wheel with his fists. He reached into the center console, pulling out a Glock 19.
"Bradley, don't!" Eleanor shrieked, cowering against the door panel.
Before Bradley could raise the weapon, the driver-side window was shattered inward by a non-lethal breaching charge. A flash-bang grenade detonated with a blinding pop and a wall of white smoke.
Hands in tactical gloves reached through the broken glass, ripping the driver's door open. Bradley was dragged out by his collar, slammed face-first into the crushed gravel, and pinned beneath the heavy boots of three federal tactical officers.
"Gun! Weapon secured! Suspect is down!"
"Get off me!" Bradley screamed, his cheek ground into the stone, spitting blood and mud. "Do you know who my family is?! My mother donates to the governor's pac! You can't touch us!"
Lieutenant Miller stepped through the smoke, his service weapon holstered, holding up a federal warrant bearing the gold seal of the United States District Court.
"Bradley Blake, Eleanor Blake," Miller said, his voice ringing through the cold morning air. "You are under arrest for attempted capital murder, kidnapping, human trafficking, conspiracy to distribute controlled substances, and racketeering. Your assets are seized, your charter flight has been grounded, and your private streaming network has been seized by the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Eleanor was dragged from the passenger side, her designer silk coat covered in soot and glass shards. Her pearls snapped, scattering white beads across the driveway like hail.
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"This is an outrage!" she wailed, tears carving dirty streaks through her foundation. "I am Eleanor Blake! I built this town! My daughter-in-law is a lunatic! She's lying! She's sick!"
"Save it for the magistrate, Eleanor," Miller said with cold disgust. "Your daughter-in-law didn't lie. She had the camera rolling the entire time."