PART 13 – THE FINAL BATTLE
We docked the boat at an abandoned pier far outside the city center of Rotterdam. It was now afternoon, but the sky remained heavy and threatening. We walked through the cold wind to an old train station where we had parked a beat-up car.
My brother placed the red box on the back seat. He looked at me, and for the first time in twelve years, I saw a smile on his face. It was a tired, but honest smile.
“We did it,” he said softly.
“Not quite yet,” I replied, opening Mom's notebook to the last page. “Victor gave us the documents, but we have to take them to the national press and the Prosecutor General's Office before they catch us.”
We got into the car and drove to the main building of the Federal Criminal Police Office in The Hague. The drive took place in tension-filled silence. Every traffic light seemed to last an eternity, every passing car a threat.
When we arrived at the large, modern building of the authorities, I took the red box. My hands stopped shaking. I felt a strange calm and determination.
We walked to the reception desk. My brother stood guard at the entrance.
“I want to speak to the lead prosecutor,” I said in a clear, firm voice to the receptionist. “I have evidence of a large-scale corruption syndicate involving my father and high-ranking officials.”
The staff member looked at me skeptically at first, but when I opened the red box and showed one of the official documents with official stamps and signatures, his expression changed instantly. He picked up the receiver and gave a direct instruction.
Five minutes later, we were led into a secure office.
