“And Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance?”
I asked, my voice flat, cold, holding forty decibels of compressed polar diamond.
“Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance,” Marcus Cooper answered, every syllable dropping like an iron depth-charge into fifty fathoms of dark water:
“The elder patriarch of the Vance-Sterling dynasty.
Brenda Vance’s biological older brother.
Mark’s uncle.
The man who orchestrated Mark’s marriage to you six years ago.
The man who approved taking out that four-million-dollar accidental death policy dated two days in the future.
The man who has controlled the federal judiciary for forty years.
The ultimate architect of Valkyrie.”
Marcus turned the screen toward my face:
`TARGET PROFILE: JUSTICE STERLING-VANCE, ARTHUR M.`
`OFFICIAL TITLE: CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE UNITED STATES`
`FINANCIAL VEHICLE: THE VALKYRIE LIQUIDITY TRUST // VADUZ & ZURICH`
`COMMERCIAL PROXY: STERLING-VANCE GLOBAL ASSET MANAGEMENT & VANCE LOGISTICS`
`OPERATION: TOTAL SEQUESTRATION OF STRATEGIC BOMBER FLEET & SUBMARINE CIPHERS`
“Arthur Vance did not order Mark to stage that Alligator Alley car crash merely to collect four million dollars, Elena,” Cooper continued:
