Chapter 4

We flew back on a military transport. Just me, General Miller, and a Marine Captain, his aide, a quiet, observant man named Harris.

General Miller had arranged for David to be airlifted to Walter Reed. I spoke to a doctor there. David was settled, and they were already assessing his hand. The relief was immense.

We checked into a hotel in my city. Not a fancy one, but clean and central.

General Miller was on the phone constantly, his voice calm but firm, issuing orders, gathering information.

Captain Harris set up a laptop, tapping away.

I felt like I was in the eye of a storm, but for once, it wasn't my storm to fight alone.

That evening, as we were discussing our next steps in the hotel lobby, three familiar figures walked in.

The thugs who had attacked David. The broken-nosed one leading them.

My breath hitched. Instinctively, I moved closer to General Miller.

They spotted me. Broken-nose grinned, a nasty, confident smirk.

"Well, well. Look who's back. And with new friends."

He swaggered towards us. "Mr. Rizzo Sr. heard you were in town. He doesn't like uninvited guests making trouble."

General Miller stood up slowly. He wasn't in uniform, just a civilian suit, but he radiated authority.

"And you are?" Miller asked, his voice mild.

"We're the welcoming committee," broken-nose said, trying to stare Miller down. He failed.

Captain Harris stepped forward slightly. He didn't say anything, just opened his jacket enough to flash his military ID and a glimpse of something official-looking clipped to his belt.

The thugs' eyes flickered to it. Their confidence wavered a bit.

"We're just here to deliver a message," broken-nose mumbled, his bravado fading. "Mr. Rizzo wants to see the girl. Alone."

"Not going to happen," General Miller said.

Just then, Frank Rizzo Sr. himself bustled in, flanked by two more goons. He was shorter than I expected, paunchy, with a florid face and eyes like chips of ice.

He saw me. "Ah, the little troublemaker. I thought I told you to stay away."

He glanced at General Miller dismissively. "Who's this? Your new lawyer? He can't help you here."

"Mr. Rizzo," General Miller said, his voice still calm, "I am General Mark Miller, United States Marine Corps."

Rizzo Sr. blinked. He looked Miller up and down. "General, huh? Well, General, this is my town. Your rank doesn't mean squat here."

He pulled out his phone. "I'll just call my good friend, Chief Reynolds. He'll sort this out."

He dialed, put it on speaker.

"Chief? Frank Rizzo. Got a little situation at the Grand Hotel. Some out-of-towner trying to impress me with his military title. Yeah, a General, he says. Can you send a couple of boys down?"

He grinned at Miller. "See? That's how it works here."

General Miller smiled faintly. He took out his own phone.

"Operator, get me the Department of Justice, National Security Division, Duty Officer. Yes, I'll hold."

Rizzo Sr.'s grin faltered.

A moment later, Miller was speaking. "This is General Mark Miller. I'm in [Sarah's City]. I need a federal team, U.S. Marshals preferred, at the Grand Hotel, downtown. We have a situation involving obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, and conspiracy, potentially implicating local law enforcement. The subjects are Frank Rizzo Sr. and his associates."

He listened, then said, "Understood. My aide, Captain Harris, has the specifics."

He hung up.

The lobby was silent. Frank Rizzo Sr.'s face had gone from florid to pale.

The broken-nosed thug and his companions looked nervous.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. But they weren't the only sirens.

Two black SUVs, government plates, pulled up outside. Men in dark suits, badges visible, entered the lobby.

Then, the local police cars arrived. Chief Reynolds himself got out, looking flustered.

He saw Frank Rizzo Sr., then General Miller, then the federal agents.

"Frank, what the hell is going on?" Reynolds blustered.

One of the federal agents stepped forward. "Chief Reynolds? Special Agent Davies, FBI. This is now a federal matter. Your officers can secure the perimeter, but we'll handle it from here."

Chief Reynolds looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

Frank Rizzo Sr. stared at General Miller, finally understanding. "You... who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Sergeant Major Michael Carter," General Miller said, his voice like ice. "And you, sir, have made a very serious mistake."

The federal agents moved towards Rizzo Sr. and his thugs.

"Frank Rizzo Sr., you're under arrest."