Chapter 10 - Convergence at Beacon Hill
Dawn broke over the Boston skyline in hues of bruised violet and dull gray.
The Federal Regulatory Maritime Courthouse on Beacon Hill was already surrounded by media vans and dark town cars. The Vance Corporation had scheduled a press conference on the courthouse steps prior to the maritime tribunal, intending to officially announce Ethan Sterling’s ""tragic medical conservatorship"" and Evelyn’s appointment as sole managing trustee of the Sterling shipping fleet.
Elena stood in the shadow of an alleyway two blocks away, watching through a pair of pocket binoculars.
She wore a tailored wool coat purchased from a thrift shop with cash, her hair pulled back into a sleek, professional twist. Beside her sat Ethan inside a rented utility van. He was dressed in a dark charcoal suit that Thomas had packed in the emergency case. His gait was stiff, but with the aid of a silver-tipped walking cane, he walked with commanding dignity.
""The local police precincts are still circulating our photos,"" Elena reported, lowering the binoculars. ""Evelyn has private security stationed at every public metal detector in the courthouse. She’s turned a federal building into her fortress.""
Ethan checked his watch. ""The federal magistrate, Judge Vance-Montgomery, is Evelyn’s paternal uncle. She engineered the venue so that any evidence brought forward would be classified under state executive privilege.""
""Which means walking through the front door with the ledger is suicide,"" Elena said. ""They’ll confiscate the binder and disappear us into a private transport before we reach the third floor.""
""Then we don't go through the front door,"" Ethan replied, pulling a laminated blueprint from the inside pocket of his coat. ""My father was the chief structural engineer on this courthouse during the 1994 renovation. The HVAC network connects directly from the underground subway conduit to the central media briefing room.""
Elena looked at the blueprints, then at Ethan's legs. ""That requires climbing a twelve-foot maintenance shaft, Ethan. Your nerve blockers will peak in two hours. After that, the neuro-fatigue will paralyze your legs again for at least twelve hours.""
""Then we have two hours,"" Ethan said without a hint of hesitation. ""I spent eight months trapped in a chair while she poisoned my food and whispered that I was nothing. I can handle two hours of climbing.""
Elena held his gaze for a long moment, seeing the unbroken spirit of a man who had walked through hell to claim his life back. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small glass vial containing the last remaining dose of the stimulant.
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""Take this right before we breach the media room,"" she said. ""If we do this, there’s no turning back. You either bring her empire down in front of those cameras, or we both end up in a federal penitentiary—or a morgue.""
""Let's go take back my name,"" Ethan said.
