A team of federal agents in dark tactical gear poured into the smoke-filled room.

“Federal agents! Drop the weapon!” a loud voice commanded through a megaphone.

Julian spun around, his silver-tipped cane clattering against a medical cart as he tried to raise his gun.

An officer fired a non-lethal flash round, striking Julian squarely in the shoulder.

He stumbled backward, the black pistol slipping from his fingers and sliding across the dusty floor.

It stopped right beside the rusted metal vent where I was still kneeling.

I reached out, grabbed the weapon, and threw it down into the dark ventilation shaft.

Two officers tackled Julian to the floor, pinning his arms behind his back.

“Get your hands off me!” Julian roared, his face pressed against the cold linoleum.

“Do you know who I am?”

“We know exactly who you are, Mr. Bellamy,” a tall agent said, stepping over the debris.

“You are under arrest for conspiracy, kidnapping, and financial fraud.”

Charles slowly pushed himself up from the floor, shaking plaster dust from his dark suit.

He reached down, his strong hand grasping mine to help me up.