Chapter 7 - Flight to the North
The rotors of the Sikorsky S-76 helicopter cut through the cool northern air as it flew low over the dense, green pine canopies of the Vermont countryside.
Inside the soundproofed, leather-lined cabin, Clara sat wrapped in a heavy wool blanket. A flight medic was gently applying a cooling, antiseptic gel to the severe red welts across her back before placing sterile gauze over the bruised skin.
"The swelling is already going down, Mrs. Sterling," the medic said softly. "No deep tissue lacerations. The pain will fade in a few days."
"It's Vance," Clara said quietly, her voice trembling slightly above the soft hum of the cabin. "My name is Clara Vance."
Arthur stepped into the cabin from the cockpit, pulling off his noise-canceling headset. He sat down in the leather captain's chair opposite his daughter and reached out, taking her hands in his.
"The servers are already being mirrored to the Justice Department's secure portal," Arthur reported gently. "By morning, the Sterling Group's assets will be frozen across four continents. Julian won't have enough cash left to hire a public defender, let alone his army of corporate lawyers."
Clara looked out the small oval window, watching the green hills roll past beneath them. "What about Eleanor?"
"Eleanor was listed as a co-signatory on the shell companies in Panama," Arthur replied, his voice devoid of pity. "She watched you suffer for two years because she thought it protected her lifestyle. She's going to spend her twilight years in a federal prison."
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Clara squeezed her father's hands, a tear slipping down her pale cheek, catching the dim interior light. "I was so scared today, Dad. When he brought out the belt... I thought he was finally going to cross the line."
"He did cross the line, Clara," Arthur said, his eyes darkening with a quiet, solemn oath. "And that was the last mistake he will ever make."
