Chapter 12 - The Gala Trap
Julian Vance was a man addicted to the spotlight, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to use his domestic drama to elevate his public profile. On Saturday evening, forty-eight hours after I had breached his front door, he went ahead with hosting his annual Thanksgiving-weekend charity gala at the Grand Hyatt ballroom in downtown Richmond. Over four hundred high-society elites, politicians, and media personalities were in attendance, all eager to show support for the "grieving husband" whose wife had been abducted by an unstable veteran father.
Inside our command cabin, we watched the live streaming video feed of the gala on a seventy-inch monitor. Julian stood at the center of the stage, dressed in a bespoke tuxedo, speaking into a crystal microphone behind a podium adorned with white lilies.
"Tonight, as we gather to raise funds for victims of domestic trauma, my heart is heavy," Julian spoke eloquently, his voice vibrating with theatrical grief. "As many of you know, my beloved wife Sarah is currently missing, taken from our home during a severe mental breakdown by a family member who refuses to listen to medical reason. But I promise you all here tonight—I will never stop searching for her. I will use every resource at my disposal to bring her home to the care and love she deserves."
The ballroom erupted into a standing ovation. Wealthy donors clapped enthusiastically, wiping tears from their eyes at his touching display of devotion.
"God, he makes me sick," Rossi muttered, cracking his knuckles as he watched the monitor. "He’s raising half a million dollars on the back of the woman he beat with a bourbon bottle."
"Let them clap," I said calmly, checking the time on my field watch. It was exactly 8:45 PM. "Because in exactly three minutes, the entire East Coast business community is going to see the real Julian Vance. David, is the secondary broadcast override ready?"
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"We are locked into the Grand Hyatt’s primary audiovisual server and the live broadcast satellite uplink," Chen replied, his fingers hovering over the enter key of his terminal with a sniper’s steady focus. "The moment you give the green light, Colonel, we strip his mask off in front of four hundred thousand live viewers."
"Do it," I ordered. "Execute Phase One."
