Chapter 6 - Julian’s Desperation
Three hours after being dropped off on the cold suburban sidewalk, Julian sat in a greasy diner booth two miles from my house, his hands trembling violently around a paper coffee cup.
Harper sat across from him, her eyes puffy, mascara smeared across her cheeks, while my mother stared blankly at the laminate table in total shock. My father was pacing the narrow aisle near the restrooms, furiously redialing his private wealth manager, only to be met with automated disconnection notices.
“Julian,” Harper hissed, leaning over the table. “All my cards are declined. The hotel down the street refused our reservation! What did those soldiers do to our accounts?”
“Shut up, Harper! Just let me think!” Julian snapped, sweat beading across his forehead despite the diner's chilly draft.
His phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unlisted international number. He lunged for it, hitting speakerphone with a shaking thumb.
“Mr. Cross,” a smooth, accented voice said from the other end. “Our offshore partners are monitoring your progress. You promised us the property deed and the local server files from the Mitchell residence by noon today. Where are they?”
Julian glanced nervously at my parents, lowering his voice to a frantic whisper. “There was... a complication. The military locked down the house. The widow isn’t a clerk—she’s a high-ranking officer. They seized my laptop.”
The line went silent for three excruciating seconds.
“That laptop contained our escrow routing codes,” the voice replied, cold and devoid of human warmth. “If those files fall into federal hands, our consortium loses sixty million dollars. More importantly, the security forces will trace the funding directly back to you.”
“I can fix it!” Julian pleaded, his voice breaking into a terrified whine. “Sarah has the override codes on her personal tablet! She’s my sister-in-law! She’s pregnant, vulnerable, and alone! I can make her sign an emergency power of attorney if I confront her at the base intake clinic!”
“You have two hours, Mr. Cross,” the voice warned. “If the signal is not cleared, you will not have to worry about federal prison. We will settle the balance ourselves.”
The line went dead.
Julian slammed the phone onto the table. He looked up at my father, who had just walked back to the booth looking utterly defeated.
“Dad,” Julian lied smoothly, forcing a confident smirk through his visible panic. “The bank made an administrative error because of Sarah’s false report. But I can fix everything right now. We just need to go to the base visitor center and make Sarah sign the clearance papers. If she drops the complaint, the accounts unlock instantly.”
May you like
My father, desperate to cling to the illusion of Julian’s wealth, nodded eagerly. “Let’s go. I’ll make her listen. She’s my daughter—she has to do what I say.”
They had no idea that every single syllable of their phone call had been recorded, traced, and broadcast live onto the monitors at Fort Meade.
