"It is," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "And under Federal Aviation Regulation Part 135, an aircraft flagged for an unverified hazardous biological cargo breach cannot be cleared for flight by any state court judge, chancery master, or municipal sheriff until a comprehensive federal inspection is completed."
Camden took half a step back, the triumph evaporating from his face.
"You're grounding your own fleet?" he stammered.
"I am protecting my operating certificate from the federal felony you just carried into my hangar," I replied. "And while those four planes sit on the tarmac, let's talk about Helios Therapeutics."
I stepped toward the airstairs, stopping two feet from Lila Monroe.
Lila shrank back against the aluminum handrail, her designer sunglasses slipping down her nose.
"Take off the scarf," I said softly.
"What?" Lila gasped, clutching the silk against her collarbone. "Camden gave this to me!"
"Camden stole it from my dressing room while I was visiting my father’s grave in Princeton on Tuesday," I said, my voice dropping into a register of icy, absolute authority. "Take it off, or I will have the Port Authority police cut it off your neck as evidence in a grand larceny investigation."
Lila looked at Camden for help, but Camden was staring at the black folder in Nora's hands, his throat working convulsively.
With trembling hands, Lila untied the silk knot, peeled the scarf from her throat, and dropped it onto the metal stair tread.
I didn't pick it up.
I turned to Nora. "Place the scarf in an evidence bag for forensic DNA testing. I want proof of every surface it touched."
Nora scooped the silk with gloved fingers.
"And now, Camden," I said, turning back toward my husband, "you have fifteen minutes to explain why the Department of Homeland Security's cargo task force just entered the perimeter security gate."
Chapter 3 - The Secret Offshore Lab In Nassau Bankrolled By Pierce Aero's Operating Credit
The heavy hydraulic gates at the entrance of the Pierce Aero ramp groaned open, admitting two black government utility vehicles flanked by a Teterboro airport police cruiser.
Red and amber emergency strobe lights reflected off the polished aluminum fuselage of the Gulfstream.
Camden’s eyes darted frantically toward the pedestrian exit, but two armed Port Authority officers had already taken up positions beside the security turnstiles.
Special Agent David Miller, lead investigator for the Food and Drug Administration's Office of Criminal Investigations, stepped out of the lead vehicle holding a federal search warrant.
"Mrs. Pierce?" Agent Miller asked, walking briskly toward us across the hangar floor.
"Agent Miller," I said, stepping forward. "Thank you for the prompt response."
Camden’s jaw dropped. "You called the feds on your own company?"
"I called the feds on you, Camden," I replied. "At eleven o'clock this morning, when my tracking software flagged an unscheduled three-hour layover at Lynden Pindling International Airport in Nassau that never appeared on the flight dispatch logs."
Agent Miller presented the search warrant directly to Captain Reynolds.
"Captain, step away from the baggage hatch. Team, secure the rear cargo module."
Two federal agents wearing blue tactical jackets and nitrile gloves moved toward the open cargo bay beneath the wing.
Within sixty seconds, they emerged carrying three stainless-steel cryogenic canisters bearing biohazard warning labels and the commercial emblem of Helios Therapeutics.
"Are the seals intact?" Agent Miller asked his technician.
"Intact, sir," the technician confirmed, reading a digital sensor on the canister lid. "Internal temperature is negative seventy degrees Celsius. Manifest lists unlicensed viral vector compounds derived from an unregulated offshore research clinic."
Agent Miller turned to Camden. "Mr. Camden Pierce?"
"I have no knowledge of what is inside those canisters," Camden lied immediately, holding his palms outward in frantic surrender. "I am the Executive Vice President of this firm. My wife manages all cargo operations and ground logistics. If there is contraband aboard this aircraft, she authorized it."
"Is that your official statement, Mr. Pierce?" Agent Miller asked, unzipping an evidence folio.
"It is," Camden insisted, his voice regaining a desperate, ugly edge. "She set me up. She found out about my personal relationship with Miss Monroe and fabricated this entire incident to strip my marital assets before the divorce hearing on Monday."
Lila nodded vigorously from the stairs. "It’s true! She's crazy! She’s jealous because Camden loves me!"
I turned to Nora. "Open file four."
Nora opened the black leather binder, producing a certified international banking dossier bearing the blue apostille stamp of the Central Bank of the Bahamas.
"This is the corporate banking trace for Helios Therapeutics Limited," I said, handing the documents to Agent Miller. "Formed nine months ago in Nassau. The sole managing director is not me. It is Lila Monroe."
Lila let out a strangled shriek, her knees buckling as she grabbed the airstair railing to keep from falling.
"What?" Lila cried out. "Camden, you said that was an entertainment holding company for my modeling agency!"
"And here," I continued, pointing to the secondary ledger, "are six corporate wire transfers totaling three million four hundred thousand dollars, drawn from Pierce Aero's commercial fuel-hedging account at Citibank."
Agent Miller traced the routing numbers with a gloved finger.
"Authorized by whose digital key?" Miller asked.
"Authorized by Camden Pierce's executive credential," I answered, "using an IP address originating from the luxury villa at the Ocean Club in Paradise Island that Mr. Pierce booked under his personal American Express card three weeks ago."
Agent Miller looked at Camden, his eyes narrowing into cold, professional contempt.