Chapter 6 - The Midnight Drive
At 5:00 a.m. the next morning, snow was falling heavily over Interstate 94 heading north toward Milwaukee.
Alexander Steel drove his heavy four-wheel-drive truck through the swirling white darkness. Marcus sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in one of Alexander’s heavy winter coats, clutching a hot travel mug of coffee with both hands.
Major Hayes was sitting in the back seat, his laptop open on his knees, his thumb tapping rapidly against the trackpad as he ran encrypted background checks on the maintenance personnel assigned to Captain Thomas Vance’s overseas unit in 2023.
"Found him," Hayes spoke up from the back, the blue light of his screen illuminating his face. "Sergeant First Class Kenneth Miller. He was the chief motor pool mechanic for Thomas’s unit in Jordan. He retired abruptly six months after Thomas’s death and bought a two-hundred-acre ranch in Montana with cash."
"Where did the cash come from?" Alexander asked, his eyes fixed on the snow-slicked highway ahead.
"Three offshore wire transfers from a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands," Hayes replied, pulling up a bank ledger. "A shell corporation owned entirely by Vance Global Defense Logistics."
Alexander’s grip on the leather steering wheel tightened. The puzzle pieces were locking into place with terrifying precision. Harrison Vance hadn't just neglected those children; he had murdered their father to protect his defense empire, paid off the mechanic to cover it up, and used Vanessa to slowly isolate the children until they could be discarded.
"How far to the bank in Milwaukee?" Alexander asked.
"Ten miles," Marcus replied, looking out the window at the passing snow-covered pine trees. "The bank opens at eight. The safety deposit key is in my pocket."
Suddenly, a set of bright yellow headlights flared up in Alexander’s rear-view mirror.
A heavy, dark industrial pickup truck surged out of the whiteout behind them, its high beams flashing violently against Alexander’s mirrors.
"Colonel," Hayes said, closing his laptop instantly and pulling his service sidearm from his shoulder holster. "We've got company."
"Is that Harrison’s men?" Marcus panicked, spilling his coffee across his knees. "Oh God, they tracked my phone! I told you he has people watching the city!"
"Stay down, Marcus!" Alexander barked.
The heavy pickup truck rammed Alexander’s rear bumper with a deafening metallic crunch. The impact sent a violent jolt through the truck, the tires momentarily losing traction on the ice before Alexander corrected the skid with expert steering.
"He's trying to push us off the overpass!" Hayes yelled as the pickup pulled alongside their passenger side, its heavy steel bull-bar scraping against Alexander’s door with a terrifying screech of tearing metal.
The passenger window of the pickup rolled down. A man in a dark tactical mask pointed a heavy 12-gauge shotgun directly at Alexander’s windshield.
BANG!
The heavy reinforced ballistic glass of Alexander’s military-spec windshield spider-webbed into a thousand fractures, but held together.
Alexander didn't panic. Thirty years of combat driving took over his muscle memory. He slammed on his brakes hard.
The heavy pickup, carrying too much forward momentum on the icy road, surged ahead. Alexander cut his wheel hard to the right, slamming his steel front bumper directly into the pickup’s rear quarter-panel.
The pickup spun out of control, its tires screeching violently against the ice as it slammed sideways into the concrete guardrail, sparks exploding into the night sky before the vehicle came to a dead stop in a cloud of radiator steam.
Alexander didn't stop to check on them. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, his four-wheel-drive truck plowing through the snowbank and roaring down the exit ramp toward downtown Milwaukee.
"Everyone okay?" Alexander called out, his breathing steady, his chest iron-clad.
"Alive!" Marcus gasped, shaking uncontrollably on the floorboards.
"Clear in the rear," Hayes reported, reloading his magazine. "They won't be following us on that axle."
Ten minutes later, Alexander pulled his damaged truck into the underground parking garage of the First National Bank of Milwaukee.
At 8:01 a.m., the bank vault door swung open.
Marcus slid his brass key into Box 412. The teller turned her master key, pulled out the long metal deposit box, and laid it on a private wooden table.
Inside the box lay a thick yellowed envelope containing two items: an encrypted military flash drive stamped PROPERTY OF US ARMY INSPECTOR GENERAL, and a handwritten letter from Captain Thomas Vance dated three days before his death.
Alexander picked up the letter. Thomas’s handwriting was quick, sharp, and precise:
'If anything happens to me, give this drive to the DoD IG. Harrison knows the armor plates are defective. He threatened my family. Keep Lily and Owen safe. They are my whole world.'
Alexander held the letter gently, a solemn silence settling over the private room.
"We have him," Major Hayes whispered, looking at the encrypted drive. "We have the whole thing."
May you like
Alexander folded the letter carefully and placed it into his breast pocket, right over his heart.
"No, Major," Alexander corrected him, his eyes burning with an unstoppable light. "We don't just have him. We're going to put him where he can never hurt another child again."
