Chapter 9 - The Poison TrailThe infiltration of the Vance estate in Charlottesville had to be done completely off the grid. Daniel enlisted the help of Jack "Mack" MacIntyre, a retired military police investigator who specialized in low-profile intelligence gathering.
At 0300, under the cover of a dense, low-hanging valley fog, the two men breached the perimeter fence of the historic brick estate. The security system was military-grade, utilizing advanced thermal imaging cameras that swept the manicured boxwood hedges every ninety seconds.
Daniel lay flat in the wet grass, counting the seconds between the camera rotations—a skill he had learned during his medical deployment in Kandahar. "Now," he whispered.
They slipped through a low basement window, their boots silent on the stone floor. The interior of the house smelled of expensive cedar, dead flowers, and old money. Daniel found the master study on the second floor, its walls lined with leather-bound books and glass cases containing the antique porcelain dolls Claire had described.
His fingers found the third doll on the left. The porcelain face looked back at him with a cold, glassy stare. He turned the figure over, his utility knife slicing through the silk lining of the dress.
A small, silver metal flash drive slid out into his palm.
"Got it," Daniel muttered.
Suddenly, the overhead lights flooded the room with a blinding, yellow glare.
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Arthur Vance stood in the doorway, a heavy, double-barreled shotgun leveled directly at Daniel's chest. Behind him were two private security guards holding drawn semi-automatic pistols.
"You really should have taken the suspension and walked away, Dr. Daniel," Arthur said, his voice smooth and dead. "Now, you're just a burglar who was shot during a home invasion. The narrative fits perfectly."
