Chapter 12
The interior of the federal courthouse was a cavernous hall of polished marble, gleaming brass trim, and hushed reverence. Armed security guards stood near the metal detectors, their presence calm and orderly compared to the violent chaos of the rail yards and sub-basements. Arthur and Charca walked up to the central intake desk, where a middle-aged clerk in a sharp blue blazer looked up from her computer monitor with a polite, professional expression.
“Good morning,” the clerk said. “How can I help you today?”
Arthur placed the thick manila envelope gently on the polished wooden counter, letting the weight of thirty years of secrets settle between them. “My name is Arthur Vance, and this is my daughter, Charca Vance. We need to speak immediately with the Special Agent in Charge of the Public Integrity Division.”
The clerk blinked, glancing from Arthur’s soot-stained wool coat to Charca’s blood-stained gray hoodie. A flicker of skepticism crossed her professional demeanor. “Do you have an appointment, sir? Federal investigators don't typically take walk-ins for cold cases.”
“Tell her the package contains the original corporate audit and financial ledgers from the 1994 industrial district bankruptcy,” Arthur said, his voice carrying an unyielding authority that brooked no argument. “Mention the name Henderson, and tell her the evidence is time-stamped for immediate release to the press if we aren't granted an audience within ten minutes.”
The clerk’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the corporate audit. She picked up her desk phone, punched a four-digit extension, and spoke in a hushed, urgent whisper while casting a wary glance at the two battered figures standing before her.
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Within two minutes, a side door near the back of the hall clicked open. A tall, impeccably dressed woman with sharp features and silver-streaked hair stepped out into the lobby. She looked at Arthur and Charca, her professional gaze instantly assessing their exhausted appearance, the dried blood on Charca’s hoodie, and the heavy manila envelope resting on the counter.
“I am Special Agent Vance—no relation, I assure you,” the investigator said dryly, stepping forward and extending a hand. “Bring your evidence and follow me back to my office. Let’s hear what you have to say.”
