Chapter 2 - THE FORTRESS OF GLASSEthan Caldwell’s Belle Meade estate looked less like a home and more like a fortress designed to keep the poor out and the guilty inside. High wrought-iron gates topped with spikes flanked a sprawling neo-classical manor surrounded by ten acres of manicured lawns and state-of-the-art thermal cameras.
Richard didn't bother using the main intercom. He bypassed the front gates entirely by driving his truck down a logging easement half a mile away, parking deep within a dense perimeter of oak trees, and hiking through the heavy brush like an infantry scout running an infiltration drill.
Arriving at the rear service perimeter, Richard pulled a small handheld device from his tactical vest—a localized frequency jammer. With a crisp click, the estate’s external security feeds, smart locks, and motion sensors went dark, blinded by a digital whiteout.
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He didn't knock. He took the breach bar from his pack, wedged it into the reinforced frame of the back kitchen door, and leaned his entire muscular frame into the lever. With a splintering shriek of ancient oak and high-grade steel, the lock gave way.
Colonel Hayes stepped into the sterile, marble-floored kitchen of the Caldwell mansion. The air smelled faintly of expensive lavender and cold terror.
