Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING AT THE DOJThree weeks later, the United States Department of Justice in Washington, D.C., was experiencing an administrative earthquake of historic proportions.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Thomas Vance had been stripped of his badge, suspended from the bar, and placed under formal federal indictment for obstruction of justice, conspiracy, and wire fraud. The leaked documents, forensic audits, and corporate ownership trails compiled by a nineteen-year-old law prodigy had effectively dismantled an entire network of corrupt federal officials in a single stroke of legal lightning.
Inside a high-level conference room on the fifth floor of the DOJ building, a panel of three federal investigators sat across a polished mahogany table.
Sitting in the center chair, looking impeccably professional in a charcoal pantsuit, was Mara Brooks.
Across from her sat the Deputy Attorney General of the United States, looking exhausted and slightly intimidated by the young woman sitting opposite him.
“Miss Brooks,” the Deputy Attorney General said, sliding a thick government dossier across the table. “The Attorney General has reviewed your findings regarding the regional shipping cartels. Your legal framework is... unprecedented. The Department is prepared to offer you a position as Special Assistant Attorney General heading the Organized Crime and Financial Corruption Task Force. Effective immediately upon your bar admission.”
Mara looked down at the dossier. She didn't smile. She didn't look surprised.
She simply closed the folder, picked up her pen, and looked the Deputy AG dead in the eye.
“I have a counter-offer,” Mara said.
The Deputy AG blinked, taken aback. “A counter-offer? To the United States Department of Justice?”
“I don’t work for the government, sir,” Mara said calmly. “And I don’t work for syndicates. I work for myself. And for the people who built me when the city tried to freeze us out.”
She stood up, buttoned her jacket, and slid her business card across the table. The card had no government seal, no corporate logo—just a single name, a phone number, and an address in the Gold Coast of Chicago.
May you like
“If you ever need help cleaning up your house again,” Mara said, her voice ringing with absolute, unshakable power, “you know where to find me.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked out of the conference room, leaving the highest-ranking law enforcement officials in the country staring silently at her empty chair.
