Chapter 9 - The Confession
Hector tumbled down the metal stairs and hit the hard tarmac headfirst, knocked completely unconscious.
Brandon stood in the doorway of the ruined jet, clutching a silver briefcase to his chest.
He looked absolutely terrified as I walked slowly toward the stairs, keeping my pistol raised.
Amber peeked out from behind him, her designer clothes ruined by the chaotic crash.
"Dad, please, put the gun down!" Brandon pleaded, his voice cracking like a coward's.
"I didn't want to do this, Hector forced me to steal the money!" he lied desperately.
I climbed the metal stairs slowly, my eyes locked dead onto his.
I didn't feel anger anymore; I only felt a cold, mechanical emptiness where my love for him used to reside.
I demanded he open the silver briefcase and hand over the encrypted hard drive containing my company's assets.
Brandon clutched the case tighter, shaking his head violently.
"If I give this to you, the cartel will hunt me down and skin me alive!" he cried.
I told him that was his problem, not mine.
Amber suddenly lunged forward, trying to push me backward down the steep stairs.
I sidestepped her easily, and she crashed hard into the aluminum railing, sobbing hysterically.
I pressed the barrel of the pistol firmly against Brandon's chest.
"Thirty slaps, Brandon," I whispered softly. "You threw away a kingdom because you couldn't control your temper."
Trembling violently, Brandon slowly unlatched the briefcase and pulled out the small, black hard drive.
He handed it to me, tears of pure defeat streaming down his face.
I tucked the drive safely into my jacket pocket and slowly lowered my weapon.
I told him I was leaving them both right there on the tarmac for the federal authorities to find.
Suddenly, a dozen black DOJ tactical vehicles swarmed the airstrip, their sirens blaring loudly into the night.
Vance stepped out of the lead vehicle and ordered his men to arrest Brandon, Amber, and the unconscious cartel boss.
As the agents slapped heavy steel cuffs onto my son's wrists, Brandon looked at me with pure hatred.
"You're dead, old man!" Brandon screamed as they dragged him away. "I'll make sure you rot for this!"
Vance walked up to me, smiling warmly, and patted my shoulder.
"You did good, Franklin," Vance said. "We have everything we need to put them away for twenty years."
I handed Vance the encrypted hard drive to secure as official evidence.
I felt a massive, crushing weight finally lift off my exhausted shoulders.
The nightmare was actually over.
Vance offered to give me a ride back to my house so I could finally get some rest.
I sat in the back of the armored DOJ vehicle, watching the rain wash away the blood on my hands.
Vance's phone buzzed loudly in the front seat.
He answered it, listened for a few seconds, and his face immediately turned completely pale.
May you like
Vance slowly turned around in the driver's seat and looked at me with absolute dread.
"Franklin," Vance whispered nervously. "The hard drive you just gave me is completely empty."
