“Inside that conduit were placed forty-eight titanium transit cylinders containing the physical, analog mechanical targeting release matrices for our nation’s strategic nuclear deterrent.”
Cooper pointed his pen straight at Brenda Vance:
“This house on Whispering Palms Way sits directly atop **Valve Station Ten**.”
“The primary southeastern overland surface access hatch, hydraulic ventilation manifold, and emergency cryogenic staging terminal for Conduit Ten.”
“Under Section Fourteen-B of the **1944 Mercer Sovereign Lineal Charter**…”
Cooper turned the execution block of the brief:
“…the chief certifying surveyor retains an un-divided, un-alienable fifty-one percent legal equity in the property in perpetuity.”
“Transferable exclusively unto his direct biological lineal descendants.”
“Unto Rose Mercer.”
“And her daughter, Elena.”
“Arthur Vance couldn’t buy Conduit Ten.
He couldn’t seize it through eminent domain.”
“So your family executed a domestic infiltration.”
“You married Elena.
You waited for her to deploy overseas.”
“You isolated her mother.
You starved her to induce acute cognitive disorientation.”
“And three days ago, your sister Heather forged that four-million-dollar life insurance policy with The Valkyrie Trust!”
Cooper bared his teeth in a cold, terrifying line of white bone:
“You didn’t take out an accidental death policy because you were worried about regional instability in Qatar, Mark.”
“You took out that policy because at midnight tonight, the seventy-year spendthrift restriction on the 1944 Charter expires!”
