“Is the chain of custody intact, Clara?” the Judge asked.
Her voice had no volume; it was fifty decibels of pure, un-forgiving Maine iron:
“Did Julian surrender the New York registers without legal defect?”
“Julian Vance and his corporate conspirators are in federal transport chains at the holding facility in Miramar, Aunt Eleanor,” I answered:
“The foyer ambush on Parcel Nine was dismantled four hours ago.”
“The communications logs have been decrypted by naval intelligence.”
“The sixty billion dollars in diverted defense reserves has been frozen in Zurich.”
“The eight-year cleaning escrow records have been authenticated under Title Eighteen.”
“Willa is safe in Bethesda.”
“And the master 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:
