Chapter 8 - The Midnight TransferThe recording lasted thirty-seven seconds.
I watched it once under Agent Shaw's supervision.
That was enough.
Tom sat beneath a fluorescent light, his face pale and exhausted.
Mercer stood behind him.
There were no theatrical threats, no exaggerated gestures.
Just a calm voice from a man who had spent years believing other people existed to serve his interests.
"Admiral Vance," Mercer said, "your father has something I need. Ensure he signs the transfer before midnight, and Master Chief Miller can go home."
Then the recording ended.
I kept my expression controlled.
But I was furious.
Tom had spent nearly four decades serving his country.
He had mentored junior sailors, helped struggling families, and quietly paid for educational scholarships out of his retirement savings.
Now someone had turned his life into leverage.
Agent Shaw looked at me.
"Admiral, we need you to remain outside the operational response."
"I understand."
"You can help by providing any background you have on Mercer and your father."
"I'll provide everything."
She nodded.
"Good."
I called Harlan with Shaw present.
"Dad, what transfer is Victor talking about?"
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he answered.
"There's a holding company."
"What holding company?"
"Vance Strategic Holdings."
"What does it own?"
"Several properties, investment accounts, and a controlling interest in one of our logistics subsidiaries."
"Who has authority over it?"
"Me."
"And Mercer wants control?"
"He wants me to approve a transfer of assets into an overseas entity."
I stared at the phone.
"How much?"
"Approximately eighty-six million dollars."
"Did you agree?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because even I understood it didn't make sense."
It was the first encouraging thing I'd heard him say in hours.
"What did he tell you?"
"That federal scrutiny could freeze the company's operations. He said moving certain assets would protect employees and preserve contracts."
"Dad, investigators need all of this."
"I've already told them."
"Good."
His voice cracked.
"Callie, I can't let that man kill Tom."
"Neither can I."
"What do we do?"
I took a breath.
"We let the people trained to handle hostage situations do their jobs."
For once, my father accepted an answer that didn't put him in control.
Federal investigators coordinated with the appropriate tactical and crisis-response personnel.
Financial records were preserved.
The proposed transfer was examined.
Harlan did not secretly sign documents or negotiate on his own.
Instead, investigators worked to identify where Mercer was holding Tom and whether Evelyn Price was with him.
At 10:40 p.m., a new message arrived on my father's phone.
THE PAPERWORK IS READY. MIDNIGHT. NO EXCUSES.
A second message included a photograph of a shipping office near the waterfront.
The location appeared ordinary.
A small industrial building.
An illuminated parking lot.
Several loading bays.
But something in the image caught my attention.
In the background was a faded company logo.
Not Vance Logistics.
A different name.
Harbor Crown Systems.
I recognized it from the archived payment summaries associated with my mother's concerns.
I told Agent Shaw.
She checked the information.
"That name appears in the current supplier investigation."
"Was Harbor Crown connected to the questionable components?"
"Potentially."
"Then Mercer may be operating through a company that has been tied to Vance transactions for years."
"We'll verify it."
I looked back at the image.
There was something else.
A small blue truck parked near the loading bay.
Its rear doors were open.
A pallet of equipment cases stood beside it.
I remembered a conversation with Tom several weeks earlier.
He had been worried about retired military equipment appearing in private resale markets.
At the time, I'd thought he was discussing surplus property.
Now I wondered whether his concern had been connected to Evelyn.
Agent Shaw received a call and stepped away.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
"We've found a possible location."
"Is Tom there?"
"We don't know yet."
She studied me.
"Admiral, we have to prioritize the safety of the hostages."
"I understand."
Then her phone rang again.
This time she listened without speaking.
When she ended the call, she looked at me.
"Investigators identified a second vehicle associated with the property."
"Whose?"
"Garrett Vance."
I felt a cold anger settle in my chest.
My father's stepson wasn't simply a spoiled executive.
He might be involved in something much worse.
"Is he with Mercer?"
"We don't know."
"What about Evelyn?"
She hesitated.
"We believe she's still alive."
Relief flooded through me.
Then Shaw added:
"But the situation is changing quickly."
At 11:36 p.m., my father received another message.
This one wasn't from Mercer.
It was from Garrett.
DAD, PLEASE DON'T SIGN ANYTHING. VICTOR LIED TO BOTH OF US.
May you like
A second message followed.
HE'S NOT PLANNING TO RELEASE THE HOSTAGES.
Related Stories
