Chapter 9 - The Trap is Sprung
The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beep of Catherine’s heart monitor.
She was stabilized and resting comfortably.
Maya sat by the bed, holding her grandmother's hand.
Arthur stood by the window, looking out at the city below.
“The men who broke in confessed,” Arthur said without turning around. “They admitted Victor hired them to find the ledger.”
“Is Victor arrested?” Maya asked.
“Not yet. The FBI is raiding his office as we speak. But he's slippery. He might try to run.”
Arthur's phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and frowned.
“It's Victor.”
Arthur put the phone on speaker.
“Victor,” Arthur said evenly.
“You think you're clever, Arthur?” Victor's voice was frantic, laced with panic. “You think a stolen book proves anything?”
“It proves you paid to have my wife murdered.”
“She was my sister!” Victor screamed. “She was supposed to side with me! But she was going to let you cut me out of the company!”
“So you killed her. And your own niece.”
“The kid was collateral damage,” Victor spat. “But it doesn't matter. I have offshore accounts. I have a private jet waiting. You'll never see me again.”
Arthur smiled, a cold, terrifying expression.
“Are you at the airfield, Victor?”
“I am. And the engines are running.”
“Good,” Arthur said.
He hung up the phone.
Maya looked at him, confused. “Why did you say good?”
“Because I own that airfield,” Arthur replied calmly. “And my pilot is the one flying the plane.”
An hour later, the news broke across every network in the city.
Victor Vance had been arrested on the tarmac of Ironwood Private Airfield.
The FBI had recovered the ledger, the mechanic's testimony, and a recorded confession from Victor's own phone call with Arthur.
It was over.
The man who had destroyed Arthur's life was finally going to rot in prison.
Maya watched the news on the small hospital TV, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.
Arthur walked over and turned the television off.
“It's done,” he said quietly.
Maya stood up and faced him.
“What happens now, Mr. Penhaligon?”
May you like
Arthur looked down at her, his dark eyes softening in a way she had never seen before.
“Arthur,” he corrected her. “My name is Arthur.”
