Chapter 91 - The Morning After
The crisp autumn air of Indiana greeted me the next morning with a biting freshness that cleared every lingering trace of jungle humidity and bunker air from my lungs. I stood at the kitchen sink, watching the golden sunlight pour across the dew-kissed grass of the backyard while the coffee machine hissed and sputtered, brewing a fresh pot of dark roast.
The television in the living room murmured quietly in the background. A national morning news anchor was wrapping up a special investigative segment on the complete, unravelling collapse of the defense department’s clandestine black-budget programs. Former Director Arthur Vance’s name was being dragged through a televised congressional hearing in Washington, where panels of prosecutors laid bare decades of systemic corruption, offshore bank accounts, and illegal surveillance grids.
I didn't watch the screen. I didn't need to. Vance was history, locked behind thick glass and iron bars, a relic of a world I had permanently left behind.
Footsteps padded softly down the hallway, and my father walked into the kitchen, looking remarkably sharp in a flannel button-down shirt and worn denim jeans. He poured himself a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter, and glanced briefly at the television before looking over at me with a quiet, knowing smirk.
"Looks like your old boss is having a tough time with congressional oversight," my father remarked dryly, taking a slow sip from his mug. "Turns out testifying under oath is a lot harder than giving marching orders from a leather chair."
"Vance played a high-risk game with the wrong rules, Dad," I replied, setting my mug down on the counter. "Gravity finally caught up to him."
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"Good," my father said firmly, setting his cup down with a sharp clink. "Because gravity has nothing on what we have scheduled for today. Henderson is waiting for us across the street with a fifty-foot tape measure and a bag of wooden stakes. If we don't go over there right now, he's going to build his gazebo right over our driveway."
I smiled, shaking my head as I grabbed my light canvas jacket from the back of the chair. "Lead the way, Captain. Let's go negotiate the Henderson Treaty."
