Chapter 18 - The Siege of Lake Geneva
Before William could press the detonator, Evelyn fired a round directly into the boat's outboard motor. The engine exploded into a column of fire and black smoke, throwing William off balance and sending him crashing onto the wooden dock floor.
The remote control skittered across the planks, falling directly into the dark lake water.
I lunged forward, pinning William down against the dock, snatching the leather briefcase containing the stolen blood samples from his grip. He fought with surprising strength, screaming curses in German and English, but I held him pinned until the sound of approaching federal helicopter blades shook the rafters of the boathouse.
Floodlights broke through the fog overhead, illuminating the entire bay in blinding white light. Loudspeakers boomed from the sky: This is the FBI. Drop your weapons and lay flat on the ground!
Evelyn dropped her shotgun onto the concrete, holding her hands high in the air. She looked at me, her eyes filled with an emotion I had never seen in her before—not pride, not arrogance, but an absolute, desperate remorse.
"Take your children and leave this country, Ryan," she said as heavily armed tactical agents descended ropes into the boathouse. "Your father's syndicate runs deeper than this facility. They will never stop hunting those boys."
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"Where am I supposed to go?" I shouted over the deafening roar of the helicopter engines.
Evelyn reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a small black passport, and tossed it to me. "To the only place William's money can't touch. Your grandfather's estate in the Scottish Highlands."
