The driver collapsed lifelessly onto Ben's body, eyes wide open in disbelief.
"You see, my dear brother," Herbert murmured, "I did avenge you in the end.
How fitting that the two agents trained so meticulously by Mr. Reuven performed the honors."
Turning to the two agents, Herbert added solemnly,
"As promised, I will dedicate my life to our great cause."
None of the three noticed—Ben, crushed beneath the dead driver, slowly opened his eyes.
Blood gushed from his wounds, but he felt the handgun tucked into the driver's waistband, exactly where his hand had landed.
With the last of his strength, Ben grabbed the weapon. But his injured shoulder could no longer lift it.
He was destined not to kill the brother who so desperately wanted him dead.
"At least... let me leave you something, brother."
With that thought, Ben raised the pistol just slightly—and fired a shot into Herbert's thigh.
Herbert howled in pain, clutching his leg and screaming:
"Kill him! Finish him off!"
The final shot struck Ben in the neck. As life drained from him, flashes filled his mind:
His friend's betrayal.
His father's lifelong neglect.
His elder brother's constant abuse.
A family bound only by profit, never affection.
As bullets tore through the car window and into his body, his last memory was of Carlo's strangled face and the shattered windshield he'd kicked apart.
After a quick field dressing, Herbert limped back to the car, accepting the red case handed to him by the woman.
Besides the leg wound, he was quite pleased with today's outcome.
He had borrowed multiple blades to do his work:
Johnny's hand to destroy Leo's reputation.
Ben's hand to kill the fool Johnny.
Ben's hand again to take out Karl—the spy planted by their father.
And finally, he reclaimed the million-dollar case.
It was family money, yes—but every branch of the family had its own pot.
This pot? Now it was all his.
Next on the menu: swallowing Locke Meyer's lifelong fortune whole.
Herbert grinned as he opened the red cash case.
But as he looked inside—
The smile froze on his face.
The oversized, custom red case was packed with nothing but newspaper.
And on top of the stack, a slip of paper read:
"Surprise!"
"AAARGH!"
His enraged scream echoed into the distance.
"Do we still need to go to Richmond tomorrow?"
Leo asked Jonathan, who had come to pick them up.
"No need. You've already given your statements at the scene.
And since you're the victims, the Richmond police will likely hand the case over to the FBI.
If they follow up, they'll come to you.
If not, you'll get a notice saying the case is closed."
Jonathan glanced at the dark silhouette of the lumberyard and added:
"You sure you don't want me to take you home?"
"It's too late. If we go home, we'll wake everyone up.
We'll rough it here for the night."
Leo paused.
"Oh, and Jonathan—thanks for the tip the other day."
Jonathan gave Leo a long, meaningful look and replied:
"I believe in you. When you become someone important, just remember what I did for you.
Get some rest."
As Jonathan's taillights vanished into the night, Leo and Michael headed toward the main building.
Parked in front was the same Lincoln Continental they'd driven to Richmond.
Inside, they flicked on the lights.
"Instructor, you're back."
Sean and Daniel sat at the table.
Next to Daniel was an M1C sniper rifle—his old companion from the special forces.
With help from logistics officer White, he had managed to keep the weapon upon discharge.
This was the real reason Leo was so confident in the restaurant freezer—
Daniel had positioned himself on a hill a hundred meters away, locking down every target in the restaurant.
If anyone brought in a weapon Leo couldn't handle, Daniel would have taken them out immediately.
But such an action would've made it harder for Leo to walk away clean.
Once Leo had learned Herbert was stockpiling cash and prepping a red case for transport,
plus Jonathan's tip about Johnny's kidnapping and late-night meeting with Ben,
he figured out the whole plan.
That very night, he broke out a map and made his plan.
As one of the world's top special ops experts, Leo knew the road from Richmond to Lynchburg had multiple ambush points.
The best? Five hundred meters from the restaurant.
Even with sharp eyes, it would've been easy to miss faint tire tracks—unless you were looking for them.
Leo had multiple backup plans for his own safety.
For example: the reed-filled bend just outside Richmond.
He had sent Sean there with a heavy machine gun and a decoy Lincoln Continental.
If enemies set up there and were few, Sean could eliminate them.
If they were many, Sean could fire a warning shot.
If there was no ambush at all—perfect.
Leo could feign a bathroom break and secretly switch the real money case.
To draw more attention, Leo even deliberately engaged with Karl, the tail.
"Boss, I got the grenade box back."
Joseph, dressed in a police uniform, walked in carrying a metal case.
It was the very same case Leo had been holding when he exited the Lincoln at the restaurant.
Joseph had retrieved it under cover of night while helping the Richmond police with their investigation.
Inside? A box full of grenades.
In truth, Leo had the most firepower of anyone in that restaurant.
He had bought the grenades on the black market using gold during his first trip to Richmond.
Post-war, grenades were heavily regulated but still dirt cheap.
During their planning, Desmond had worried about Leo's safety and asked if they could just stay in Richmond.
Maybe convert the money into checks and take the train home.
But Leo refused.
Not because he was cocky or reckless—
But because Herbert was too dangerous, and Richmond was his home turf.
Leo knew it was better to confront a revealed plot head-on than to wait for unseen danger.
"Boss, we all know this isn't a big deal to you, but if you can avoid danger, please do."
Joseph said, concerned.
Leo nodded and sent the team away from the lumberyard.
Now, only he and Michael remained in the main building.
On the center table were two large black cases.
Unlike the custom oversized red case Herbert used to hold the million,
Leo and Michael didn't have time to make one.
Instead, they used two of the largest black cases available on the market.
Together, they opened the lids in perfect sync.
Inside—
One million U.S. dollars in cash lay quietly.
At that moment, only one sentence echoed in Leo's mind:
"The most charming smile in the world… is Benjamin Franklin's."
Laughter is contagious.
Michael burst out laughing—relief and triumph.
Leo smiled too—not because he had survived danger, but because his capital for the future was finally in hand.
In America, everyone has a price.
And tonight, Mr. Leo Valentino's was $400,000.