Chapter 4
While Clara continued downloading the encrypted logs onto the secure hard drive, Arthur stepped away from the kitchen table and walked into his private study. He closed the heavy mahogany door behind him, plunging himself into the dim, amber glow of a single desk lamp. He pulled an old, heavy-stock address book from the bottom drawer—a relic from his active years in international logistics before he retired to manage his boutique shipping firm.
He dialed a series of digits from memory, waiting through the long, hollow rings until a gruff, gravelly voice answered on the other end. "Sterling. It’s been a while. If you’re calling about dockworker unions, I’m retired."
"Marcus, I don't need union arbitration," Arthur said, his voice low and steady. "I need discretion, a team of forensic accountants who don't ask questions about federal jurisdiction, and a secure courier service that can operate outside normal commercial channels without tripping alarms."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, the sound of a lighter clicking shut, and a heavy exhale of smoke. "Sounds like you stepped into something deep, Artie. The kind of trouble that doesn't wash off with soap and water. Who’s the target?"
"Richard Vance. Executive VP of Vanguard Global Logistics. He’s been running an embezzlement ring through offshore accounts and using domestic intimidation tactics to cover his tracks." Arthur paused, gripping the receiver tighter. "He targeted my daughter."
The atmosphere on the line shifted instantly. The casual, world-weary tone vanished, replaced by the cold, tactical efficiency of men who operated in the shadows of the corporate world. Marcus had been Arthur’s head of security during the turbulent corporate takeovers of the late nineties. He knew where the bodies were buried—both literally and figuratively.
"Vance? That golden boy is tied up with half the city council and a few venture capital firms out of Zurich," Marcus replied, his voice sharpening. "Taking him down through standard regulatory bodies will take months, and by then, his legal team will have buried the paper trail in a mountain of injunctions and shell companies."
"We aren't going through standard regulatory channels," Arthur stated flatly. "We have the original audio logs, unedited financial ledgers, and video evidence of corporate extortion stored on an offline drive. We bypass the local authorities entirely. I want this routed directly to the federal strike force handling white-collar corruption in the district. But I need to make sure Vance doesn't wipe his remote servers before the warrants are signed."
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"Leave it to me," Marcus said. "I’ll mobilize the digital forensics unit within the hour. By sunrise, Vance’s corporate servers will be digitally quarantined so he can't execute a remote wipe. Stay put, Artie. Don't answer your phone, don't open the door for anyone, and keep your daughter close."
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