Chapter 12
The visiting room of the federal holding facility was a depressing space of scratched laminate tables, institutional green walls, and thick acrylic partitions that separated inmates from their visitors. Julian sat on the bolted metal stool on the inmate side, wearing an orange jumpsuit that clashed violently with his dark, unkempt hair and sallow complexion. The crisp white button-down shirt that had defined his arrogant public persona was long gone, replaced by standard-issue prison garb that stripped away every shred of his former identity. Across the partition, sitting in a molded plastic chair, was Arthur Pendelton, the former board member whose own legal troubles were rapidly catching up with him. Arthur looked frail, his hands shaking as he held the heavy plastic telephone receiver pressed against his ear. Julian picked up his own receiver, his face twisted into a mask of bitter fury. "You should have destroyed those files, Arthur!" Julian hissed into the mouthpiece, his voice muffled by the thick glass. "If you had shredded the sub-basement ledgers like I told you to back in eighteen, none of this would be happening!" Arthur shook his head frantically on the other side of the partition, tears welling in his tired eyes. "I couldn't get down there, Julian! The security codes were changed, and Marianne had private guards patrolling the archives twenty-four seven," Arthur pleaded, his voice cracking with panic. "She knew everything before we even realized the audits had started. We're finished, Julian. The prosecutors offered me a fifteen-year plea deal if I testify that you ran the entire embezzlement scheme without the board's knowledge." Julian’s grip on the plastic receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white. He stared across the glass at the pathetic man who had served as his rubber stamp for a decade, realizing that loyalty among criminals lasted only as long as it was convenient. "You sell me out, Arthur, and I'll make sure every offshore account you hid in the Caymans under your sister’s name is handed directly to the IRS," Julian threatened, his dark eyes burning with dangerous intensity. Arthur flinched, recognizing that even from behind bars, Julian still possessed enough residual malice to cause serious damage. Before Arthur could reply, a correctional officer stepped behind his stool, tapping him on the shoulder to signal that visiting time was over. Arthur dropped the receiver onto its cradle without another word, hurrying out of the room with his head bowed. Julian sat alone in the dim booth for a long moment, staring at his own reflection in the thick acrylic glass, finally understanding the true magnitude of his defeat.
