Chapter 7 - The Arrest
Within fifteen minutes, the underground parking garage of the Sterling Global tower was flooded with flashing red and blue lights. Four black tactical SUVs belonging to the FBI’s Financial Crimes and Public Integrity Division screeched to a halt around Julian’s armored sedan.
Heavily armed federal agents poured out of the vehicles, their tactical lights cutting through the dim garage atmosphere.
"Julian Sterling and Eleanor Sterling!" the lead agent barked through a megaphone, drawing his weapon as he advanced toward the elevator bay. "You are under arrest by order of the federal court! Put your hands on your heads and step forward immediately!"
Julian didn't even try to run. He remained on his knees on the dirty concrete, his custom Italian suit ruined by motor oil and puddle water, sobbing openly as two agents grabbed his arms, hauled him to his feet, and slammed him against the hood of his own car. The sharp, metallic click of steel handcuffs ratcheting tight around his wrists echoed through the garage—the sweetest sound Thomas had heard in years.
Eleanor was dragged out of the elevator car by a female agent, her silk dress rumpled, her mascara running in dark, ugly smears down her cheeks. "Take your hands off me!" she screamed hysterically, thrashing against the cuffs. "Do you know who my grandfather was?! We own this city! I will have all of your badges for this!"
"Save it for the federal magistrate, ma'am," the agent said coldly, pushing her into the back of a caged SUV. "Your bank accounts are frozen, and your lawyer just cut a plea deal to testify against you thirty minutes ago."
Thomas stood in the shadows near the exit ramp, watching the entire spectacle fold out with arms crossed over his chest. He didn't gloat; he didn't step into the light to offer a final taunt. A true professional knew that once the target was handed over to the system they couldn't bribe anymore, the work was finished.
The lead FBI agent—a sharp-eyed veteran named Special Agent Miller—walked over to the dark corner where Thomas was standing. He didn't reach for his sidearm; instead, he extended a formal, respectful hand.
"The Attorney General received the data packet and the audio confession five minutes ago, Mr. Vance," Agent Miller said quietly, shaking Thomas’s hand. "The D.A. was arrested at his home ten minutes ago, and we have teams raiding the police precinct right now. You handed us the biggest public corruption bust in the state’s history on a silver platter."
"I just wanted my daughter safe, Agent Miller," Thomas replied, his voice level. "Make sure the domestic violence charges stay at the top of the indictment. I don't want him just doing easy time in a minimum-security financial camp. I want him sitting in a federal maximum-security block where his money can't buy him a private cell."
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"With the evidence you provided on the witness tampering and bribery, he’s looking at forty years mandatory minimum before parole eligibility," Miller assured him. "He’s never breathing free air again."
Thomas nodded once, turned his back on the flashing red lights, and walked out of the garage into the cool, clean autumn rain.
