Chapter 2
Arthur Vance walked three blocks before stepping into the quiet lobby of a high-rise office building, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline still humming through his veins. He bypassed the crowded elevators and used his private keycard to access the executive washroom on the twelfth floor. Standing before the oversized marble-rimmed mirror, he inspected the damage. The cut on his cheek was jagged, swelling slightly at the edges, staining the collar of his crisp white dress shirt with a thin line of dried blood. He washed the wound with cool water, wincing slightly as the sting cleared his mind.
Back in his corner office, overlooking the gray expanse of Lake Michigan, Arthur sat behind a massive mahogany desk. His briefcase, retrieved by his assistant ten minutes prior, sat unopened on the credenza. He ignored the stack of urgent emails flashing on his monitor and instead opened a leather-bound notebook. With a heavy fountain pen, he wrote three lines: Officer Carl Redding. Badge 316. 3rd District.
His executive assistant, Elena, knocked softly and pushed the door open. She held a tablet containing the morning’s litigation schedules, but stopped short when she saw the swelling on his cheek. “Mr. Vance, what happened? Do you need medical attention?”
“I’m fine, Elena,” Arthur replied, his voice calm and measured. “Just a minor disagreement with a city official who forgot the limits of his authority.”
Elena frowned, placing the tablet on the edge of the desk. “Should I loop in our corporate security team? We have retained legal counsel for city municipality disputes.”
“Not yet,” Arthur said, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window toward downtown. “This isn't a corporate matter. It's personal. Tell me, what do we know about the recent internal affairs complaints regarding the Third District?”
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Elena raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in her boss's usual demeanor. Arthur Vance was known for his icy detachment in hostile takeovers, rarely letting emotion dictate his business decisions. This time, however, the cold focus in his eyes signaled something far more deliberate. She nodded slowly. “I’ll pull the public records and municipal oversight logs by noon. But Arthur—be careful. City cops protect their own.”
“Let them try,” Arthur answered softly. He closed the notebook, his hand resting over the inscribed badge number. He knew that power, when left unchecked, inevitably creates the tools of its own destruction. He had spent his entire career dismantling corrupt corporate entities from the inside out; applying those same rigorous investigative principles to a municipal police officer would simply require patience, precision, and an unwavering commitment to the truth.
