Chapter 10 - THE SIEGE BEGINS
By 2:00 PM, my kitchen had turned into a federal command center.
Two more agents arrived with portable satellite receivers, plugging into my wall outlets and setting up encrypted lines directly to the Federal Courthouse in Atlanta.
Doc Ellis sat on a stool in the corner, sipping coffee and watching the federal agents work with an expression of quiet satisfaction.
"We have enough for an emergency freeze on all Voss Development corporate assets," Marcus announced, standing over the table with a secure tablet in his hand. "As of ten minutes ago, a federal judge in Atlanta signed a temporary restraining order locking eighty-two bank accounts associated with Warren Voss, Daniel Voss, and their subsidiary holdings."
"What about the bank note on my farm?" I asked.
Marcus chuckled softly. "The bank itself is under federal conservatorship as of one o'clock. Warren doesn't own your mortgage anymore, Sam. The United States government does. And we aren't calling the note."
Before we could celebrate, the front gate chime buzzed outside.
I walked to the front window and pulled back the curtain.
Sitting at the end of the driveway was a black Mercedes sedan, accompanied by Sheriff Miller’s squad car. Warren Voss himself stepped out of the back of the Mercedes, leaning on his gold-topped cane, flanked by Arthur Vance and two armed private security guards.
Sheriff Miller stayed near his cruiser, looking visibly terrified, his eyes darting toward the black Suburbans parked around my barn.
"He knows," Doc Ellis said, standing beside me at the window. "The bank told him his accounts were frozen."
"Stay inside," Marcus ordered his agents, picking up his dark suit jacket and sliding his federal badge onto his belt. He looked at me. "Ready, Uncle Sam?"
"I've been ready for twenty-eight years, Marcus," I said.
We walked out onto the porch together.
The rain had stopped completely, leaving the air cold, still, and heavy with the smell of wet dirt.
Warren Voss walked up the driveway, stopping ten feet from the porch steps. His face was gray, his pristine silk tie slightly crooked, the arrogance that had covered him like armor sixteen hours ago completely gone.
Beside him, Arthur Vance held a thick folder, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at the federal seals on the black Suburbans.
"Samuel," Warren said, his voice no longer smooth or deep, but strained, tight, and hoarse. "We need to talk. Man to man."
I stood at the top of the steps, looking down at the man who had ruled Hartwell County like a king for forty years.
"I gave you your chance last night, Warren," I said softly.
Warren took a desperate step forward, raising his gold cane slightly. "Samuel, listen to me! I can give Claire whatever she wants! Five million... ten million! A full divorce settlement, the house in Savannah, anything! Just tell these federal boys to walk away!"
Marcus stepped forward, resting his hands on the porch railing, his federal badge shining brightly in the pale gray light.
"Warren Voss," Marcus said, his voice ringing across the quiet yard like a death sentence. "I am Assistant United States Attorney Marcus Vance. You are currently the primary subject of an active federal racketeering, tax evasion, and public corruption investigation."
Warren’s jaw fell open. He looked at Marcus, then back at me, his eyes wild with sudden, blinding panic.
"Sam... please..." Warren rasped, his voice breaking. "We're neighbors! We've lived in this county together for fifty years!"
"You called me a dirt farmer, Warren," I said quietly, stepping down to the bottom porch stair. "You told my daughter I was nobody."
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I looked him straight in his terrified eyes.
"Now... let's see who's left standing."
