Chapter 9 - The Extraction
Marcus was right. I crawled under the rear bumper of my sedan and found a small, magnetic black box blinking with a faint red light. I ripped it off and tossed it into the bed of a passing logging truck. Let Arthur’s goons chase pine trees into Canada.
Two hours later, an unmarked black SUV pulled into the motel parking lot. A woman with a stern face and a tactical jacket stepped out, verifying my identity before loading Leo and me into the heavily tinted backseat.
We drove in silence for hours, finally arriving at a private airstrip outside of Spokane. A small jet was waiting on the tarmac.
"Where are we going?" Leo asked, clutching the armrests as the jet engines roared to life.
"Chicago," I said, buckling my seatbelt. "We’re taking the fight to Arthur’s doorstep."
When we landed, Marcus was waiting on the runway.
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He looked older, his hair graying at the temples, but his eyes were sharp. He ushered us into a sleek penthouse downtown, safe behind layers of security.
"I listened to the files you uploaded to my secure server," Marcus said, pouring a glass of scotch. "It’s damning. But Arthur is hosting a massive charity gala tomorrow night. He’s announcing his candidacy for State Senate. We are going to ruin his life on live television."
