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Chapter 6 - The Reversal Protocol-6

I held up the screen, displaying a document dated three weeks ago, bearing Senator Julian Croft's official digital signature.

"Look at the land registry coordinates for the eminent domain mandate zone," I said, pointing to the highlighted text lines on the monitor. "The Senator didn't just include the base perimeter land. He secretly shifted the boundary lines to encompass four hundred acres of protected wetlands owned by a shell corporation called 'Horizon Holdings'—a company registered to Julianna’s private offshore account."

Harris’s eyes widened as she scanned the technical data. "He was using a federal infrastructure mandate to line his own daughter’s pockets with public conservation funds."

"Exactly," I nodded, my smile widening into a sharp, lethal expression of absolute victory. "And because it’s a federal mandate, using private shell companies to extract public conservation funds constitutes a direct violation of the federal Land Deception and Anti-Racketeering Acts. It’s an unpardonable felony, Harris."

I tapped the screen, executing a single command line that forwarded the entire consultancy database file to the FBI Financial Crimes Division secure portal down the block.

"Julianna’s immunity agreement only covers her testimony regarding Vale Global’s logistics fraud and the local money laundering wires," I said, looking out over the city streets where the sun was shining brighter than ever. "It doesn't cover federal land fraud. It doesn't cover a multi-million-dollar conspiracy to exploit federal conservation grants."

Across the square, through the glass windows of the FBI field office, three agents in navy jackets stepped out of the doors, moving with a fast, purposeful stride toward the intersection where Julianna’s sedan had just stopped at a red light.

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"Her immunity lasted exactly forty-five minutes," I said, watching as the federal agents blocked her vehicle, pulling open the passenger doors and forcing Julianna Croft out into the rain, her beige trench coat dragging in the wet gutter as they snapped heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists.

"Let’s go home, Harris," I said, sliding my phone into my pocket and grabbing her hand. "The machine is broken. For good this time."

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