Chapter 13 - The Pincers Close
“Where is the airstrip?” I asked, my voice cold and absolute.
“Pine Valley Private Aerodrome, hangar twelve,” Arthur replied. “Local jurisdiction is useless there, but I’ve just secured emergency FAA airspace restriction orders. They can’t take off without federal clearance.”
“They won't get it,” I said.
I turned back toward the room, where Abigail was resting peacefully under heavy guard. I looked at the military police captain standing at attention by the door.
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“Captain, assemble two tactical squads and the rapid-response transport unit. We are going bird hunting.”
As I marched down the hospital corridor toward the exit, the final pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. The Fergusons had built their empire on fear, money, and bought-and-paid-for silence. But they had made one fatal calculation: they forgot that a mother protecting her child operates outside the rules of ordinary men.
