Vengeance

6 POTOMAC, MARYLAND

In an affluent neighborhood just north of the Potomac River, Vance Verbeck turned onto Highland Farm Road, passing several twenty-thousand-square-foot mansions. The last to arrive in preparation for today’s event, Vance stopped before a black iron gate blocking the entrance to his wife’s East Coast home.

After Vance identified himself, the gate slid aside and he pulled up to the mansion’s entrance. He handed the car keys to a house attendant, who parked the vehicle inside the home’s six-car garage, hiding it from sight to preclude giving away today’s planned surprise birthday party for his wife, Brenda. Considering the events of the last few months, Vance and Brenda’s brothers had decided she could use a private, but festive, occasion to lift her spirits.

Three months ago, Brenda had been forced to resign as secretary of the Navy. After learning that her brother, Dan Snyder, had sold high-speed centrifuges to Iran that would accelerate the regime’s enrichment of uranium to weapon-grade purity, Brenda had used her influence as secretary of the Navy to protect her brother’s plot from discovery. The effort had failed and Dan had struck a plea deal, landing him in federal prison for fifteen years.

Brenda should have been pleased that the only consequence of her actions was resignation; her transgressions had been far worse than Dan’s. She could have spent decades in prison for arranging the murder of two men who had learned too much about Dan’s ill-advised scheme to earn a quick billion dollars. But with the president up for reelection later this year, the fact that a senior member of his administration had likely been involved in a murder plot had been swept under the rug. Instead of being thankful for the president’s decision to limit the repercussions to her resignation, Brenda had spent the last three months fuming.

As Vance was escorted through the richly appointed mansion toward the back patio, he pondered the current state of affairs, with him living in San Diego while Brenda remained in Maryland. Her move to the Washington, D.C. area, while Vance remained in San Diego as technical director of the U.S. Navy’s Arctic Submarine Laboratory, had made sense following her appointment as secretary of the Navy. Since her resignation, however, she hadn’t yet made plans to move back to California. That told Vance much — that his beautiful, rich, and ambitious wife was planning something.

Vance reached the patio, inhaling the savory scent of chateaubriand and lobsters roasting in the ovens along the way. He was greeted by Brenda’s three other brothers: Bob, Ray, and Tim Snyder, drinks in hand. After ordering one for himself, Vance joined the men at the patio railing overlooking Brenda’s estate, ten acres of sprawling Maryland countryside. The conversation covered nothing of importance, mostly catching up on what everyone had been up to since the last time they were together — while avoiding the recent events that were undoubtedly on their minds — until a member of Brenda’s staff interrupted the discourse.

“Mrs. Verbeck has arrived. She just passed through the front gate.”

Vance and Brenda’s brothers moved to the sides of the balcony, hidden from Brenda’s view until she stepped onto the patio, supposedly to talk with a neighbor who had stopped by for a visit. A moment later, she arrived and was greeted instead by her husband and brothers.

Brenda’s face lit up in delight. She acted surprised, but Vance could tell she had somehow deciphered their plan ahead of time. She offered Vance a brief but passionate kiss. It had been several months since they had been together.

Dinner was soon served, and they took their seats at a round patio table covered with a white tablecloth, with place settings of porcelain china and crystal glasses. The conversation throughout dinner was jovial, as Brenda’s brothers recalled childhood stories and antics, attempting to keep their sister’s spirits high. At the end of the meal, Brenda’s birthday dinner was punctuated by her favorite dessert, cheesecake topped with strawberries and drizzled with caramel.

After the sun dipped beneath the horizon, they sipped drinks around a fire pit. However, despite the best efforts of the four men accompanying her, as the night chill seeped in and the flames danced in the pit, Brenda slipped into a gloomy mood.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it,” she said.

“Who?” Vance asked. “Get away with what?”

“The president. Forcing me to resign. I would have beaten any charges. They had nothing on me besides another person’s word.”

“That person happened to be the director of the CIA.”

“It would have been hearsay! Rolow made the arrangements to kill those two men and he told that CIA bitch that he did it for me. The third-person hearsay wouldn’t have held up in court.”

As Vance debated how to respond, he couldn’t help but notice that Brenda hadn’t once, in the last three months, denied the accusation — that she had arranged the death of two men in her effort to protect her brother. Family loyalty was an admirable trait, but Brenda had taken it too far.

Brenda added, “The president swept everything under the rug to keep his poll numbers up.”

“You do realize that you benefited from the president’s leniency?” Bob said. “He didn’t want a scandal involving his secretary of the Navy to mar his reelection campaign.”

“No,” Brenda replied. “He didn’t have the guts to charge me.”

“The president was smart,” Ray remarked. “If they had charged you, the outcome would have been unclear. And if the jury had agreed with the prosecution, you would have ended up in jail, just like Dan.”

“Dan didn’t deserve jail,” Brenda replied. “They made an example out of him. He agreed to a plea deal and still got fifteen years. For what! Selling forbidden merchandise? I’ve seen murderers get lighter sentences.”

Brenda slowly swirled the wine in her glass. “The president has forgotten who put him in the White House. When he decided to enter politics, it was people like us who financed his campaigns. Now that he’s president, he doesn’t need us anymore. We can’t let him get away with treating me… us, this way.”

“You should let it go,” Tim said.

“Let it go?” Brenda replied, her face turning red. “I will not let it go!”

As Brenda’s features flickered in the firelight, Vance knew that she was plotting something.