Chapter 4 - The Blood in the Wire
Luca fell into the leather armchair as if his knees had turned to wet paper.
Marcus stood by the window with his arms crossed, refusing to look at him.
Adrian did not sit.
He walked around Luca like a wolf circling an injured sheep.
“Tell me about Peter Sloan,” Adrian said.
“Adrian, please,” Luca choked out.
“I was trying to close the deal.”
“The board was complaining that the Ashland expansion was two months behind schedule.”
“The German investors were threatening to pull their mezzanine financing if we didn't assemble the entire block by December thirty-first.”
“I asked you a question, Luca,” Adrian said, leaning down until his nose was an inch from his cousin’s ear.
“Tell me about Peter Sloan.”
“He’s… he’s a contractor,” Luca stammered.
“He does site clearance.”
“He does dirty work,” Adrian corrected coldly.
“How did you pay him?”
Luca didn't answer.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Adrian reached down, grabbed Luca by the lapels of his thousand-dollar coat, and yanked him upright out of the chair.
“How did you pay him, you idiot?”
“From the community development reserve!” Luca cried out.
Adrian froze.
Marcus let out an audible groan and pressed his forehead against the cold window glass.
“You paid an arsonist… from the community fund?” Adrian asked, his voice shaking with disbelief.
“It was the only account I had sole disbursement authority on under fifty thousand dollars!” Luca sobbed.
“I wrote it as an environmental site inspection fee!”
“I didn't think he would burn the building down with people inside!”
“I swear to God, Adrian, I swear!”
“Sloan told me he was just going to break some equipment!”
“He said he’d break the presses so the old man couldn't finish his holiday orders!”
“He wasn't supposed to burn the place down!”
Adrian threw his cousin back into the chair.
Luca hit the armrest hard, gasping for breath.
“Who oversees the community development reserve, Luca?” Adrian asked quietly.
Luca’s face went completely blank.
Then a look of sickening realization washed over him.
“Emma,” Luca whispered.
“Emma,” Adrian repeated.
“My wife.”
“The woman you laughed at when I said fifty women could replace her.”
“The woman whose name is on the signature card for every single transaction out of that account.”
“She didn't find out from the hospital, did she?”
“She found out because the notification hit her phone the second the check cleared.”
Marcus turned away from the window.
“Adrian, it’s worse than that.”
Adrian looked at his lawyer.
“How could it possibly be worse?”
“Emma took that bank record to Robert Hayes last night.”
Adrian’s eyes widened slightly.
“Hayes? The former chief of the financial crimes division?”
“Yes,” Marcus said.
“Hayes went directly to the U.S. Attorney’s office at dawn.”
“They aren't just looking at an arson case in state court.”
“They’ve opened a federal racketeering investigation into Vale Enterprises for cross-state wire fraud, insurance conspiracy, and civil rights violations under the commercial displacement statutes.”
“And because Emma is the trustee who discovered the misappropriation, she has filed for federal whistleblower protection.”
Adrian stepped back until his legs hit his desk.
For the first time in his life, the ground beneath his feet felt hollow.
Whistleblower protection.
An ex-parte asset freeze.
A criminal investigation backed by the former head of the state’s financial crimes division.
And the sole witness holding the keys to the land under his skyscraper was the woman he had told was completely disposable.
Adrian looked at his desk.
His phone began to vibrate violently against the glass.
The screen displayed the name of Julian Vance, Marcus’s father and the senior partner of their legal firm.
Marcus checked his own phone at the same time.
“Adrian,” Marcus said, his voice completely drained of color.
“What now?”
“The banks.”
“What about the banks?”
“Continental Trust just pulled our liquidity line.”
“Three hundred million dollars in commercial paper… frozen.”
“They’re calling in the margin loans on the North Wharf project.”
“We have forty-eight hours to post collateral, or they initiate foreclosure on the entire development.”
Adrian felt a drop of cold sweat slide down the back of his neck.
He reached for his phone.
He dialed Emma’s personal number.
He didn't care about dignity.
He didn't care about the board members waiting outside.
He dialed once.
Twice.
On the third ring, the line connected.
The background was quiet, devoid of the panic that was tearing his sixty-story glass tower apart.
“Emma,” Adrian said, trying to steady his voice.
“You’ve made your point.”
A gentle, distant voice answered him.
It wasn't Emma.
“Mr. Vale,” said Robert Hayes.
“This is Robert Hayes, special counsel to Emma Sterling.”
Adrian’s fingers gripped the phone so hard the glass creaked.
“Put my wife on the phone, Robert.”
“Mrs. Vale has instructed me to inform you that she has nothing further to say to you.”
“Unless, of course, it involves fifty other women signing your corporate bond covenants.”
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“Have a good morning, Adrian.”
The call went dead.
