“Is the chain of custody intact, Elena?” the Judge asked.
Her voice had no volume; it was fifty decibels of pure, un-forgiving Maine iron:
“Did Mark surrender the Florida registers without legal defect?”
“Mark Vance, Brenda Vance, and Heather Vance are in federal transport chains at the holding facility in Miramar, Aunt Eleanor,” I answered:
“The bedroom ambush in Fort Myers 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 wireless camera live-stream and the four-million-dollar insurance policy dated two days in the future have been logged as capital evidence of high treason.”
“Mom 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:
