Chapter 8 - Six Million Was Only the Beginning
Julian let the phone ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Nathaniel stared at him.
“Answer it normally.”
Torres nodded.
“Don't confront him.”
Julian accepted the call.
“Christopher.”
His cousin sounded relaxed.
“Finally. I've been trying you since yesterday.”
“What happened?”
“I saw the news.”
Julian said nothing.
Christopher continued.
“Jesus, Julian. Eleanor? Leo? Is any of it true?”
“Some.”
“Is Leo okay?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
The concern sounded real.
That was the problem.
Julian had spent the last forty-eight hours learning that people could sound sincere while building a lie underneath him.
Christopher sighed.
“Listen, the board is panicking. The foundation allegations are spreading.”
“I know.”
“We should meet before the markets open Monday.”
“Why?”
“To protect the company.”
Julian looked at Nathaniel.
Three words.
Protect the company.
Exactly the kind of language Arthur and Vale had used.
“Sure.”
Christopher hesitated.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“I loved Rebecca too, you know.”
Julian's expression changed.
“I know.”
“We'll get through this.”
“Yeah.”
“Family does.”
The call ended.
Julian lowered the phone.
Torres asked:
“Did that seem rehearsed?”
“No.”
“Good?”
“Worse.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Julian looked at Christopher's name.
“Christopher doesn't rehearse.”
They spent the rest of the morning tracing Northstar.
It had not received six million dollars.
It had received $1.4 million.
Most through entities connected to Vale.
But eleven months before Arthur's death, something changed.
Northstar began sending money out.
Not taking it in.
Payments to investigators.
A document-storage company.
A cybersecurity firm.
Then—
$310,000 to Grant Holloway.
Julian stared.
“There.”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“Don't jump.”
“My father's account pays Grant through my cousin's company?”
“We don't know that it's your father's account.”
“Northstar belonged to Christopher.”
“Legally.”
Julian turned.
“What does that mean?”
Nathaniel rubbed his forehead.
“Arthur established Northstar decades ago with his brother. When your uncle died, the ownership structure became complicated. Christopher was listed as managing member.”
“But?”
“Arthur may have retained beneficial rights.”
Torres said:
“So Rebecca saying she was wrong about Arthur could mean she discovered the money wasn't being stolen by him.”
“Maybe.”
Julian hated the word.
Maybe.
His whole life had become maybe.
Maybe his mother hated Rebecca.
Maybe his father knew.
Maybe Grant betrayed him.
Maybe Grant protected him.
Maybe Christopher was involved.
Maybe Rebecca had died naturally.
Maybe.
The forensic accountant entered the room.
“I think I found the missing money.”
Julian looked up.
“All of it?”
“No.”
The accountant set down a chart.
“The six million taken from the foundation is real. But roughly two-thirds ultimately returned.”
Julian frowned.
“To the foundation?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“An escrow structure.”
“Controlled by?”
“Northstar.”
Nathaniel went still.
The accountant continued.
“It's strange. The pattern looks less like someone simply stealing and more like someone allowing theft to occur, tracking it, then intercepting portions downstream.”
Julian understood.
“A trap.”
“Possibly.”
Arthur had known Eleanor was stealing.
Instead of stopping her immediately, he may have watched.
Tracked.
Collected evidence.
A terrible strategy.
A very Arthur Mercer strategy.
Julian's anger rose.
“He let her keep stealing from a charity so he could build a case.”
Nathaniel didn't defend him.
“Looks that way.”
“People lost scholarships.”
“Yes.”
“Families lost housing grants.”
“Yes.”
“And my father treated it like an investigation.”
“Yes.”
Julian slammed his palm against the table.
“That isn't protection.”
“No.”
Nathaniel's answer surprised him.
The lawyer looked tired.
“Your father was not a saint, Julian.”
Julian stared.
“You spent twenty-five years representing him.”
“I know exactly what he was.”
“And?”
“A brilliant man who believed he could control damage by controlling information.”
Julian looked away.
That sounded painfully familiar.
Eleanor controlled information to dominate.
Arthur controlled information to protect.
Different motives.
Same arrogance.
The accountant pointed toward the chart.
“One more issue.”
“What?”
“There is a transfer dated two days after Arthur died.”
Julian turned.
“How much?”
“$2.2 million.”
“To where?”
“An account associated with a trust in Delaware.”
“Beneficiary?”
“Unknown.”
“Who authorized it?”
The accountant hesitated.
“Christopher Mercer.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
There it was.
Nathaniel raised a hand.
“Wait.”
“What exactly was the payment description?”
The accountant zoomed in.
CONTINGENCY RESOLUTION — A.M. INSTRUCTION 7
Nathaniel went white.
Julian saw it.
“What is Instruction Seven?”
Nathaniel did not answer.
“What is it?”
“I thought Arthur destroyed that.”
Julian stepped closer.
“Nathaniel.”
The lawyer looked him in the eye.
“Instruction Seven was a contingency plan.”
“For what?”
“If Eleanor refused to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Trying to take control of the company.”
Julian waited.
Nathaniel continued.
“Arthur intended to buy her out.”
Julian almost laughed.
“With stolen foundation money?”
“No. Personal assets held through Northstar.”
“Then why route it like this?”
“To hide the negotiations until they were complete.”
Julian stared.
“Who was negotiating?”
Nathaniel answered reluctantly.
“Christopher.”
Everything became less clear again.
Christopher's transfer might be evidence of conspiracy.
Or evidence he had been helping Arthur.
That ambiguity was exactly what made it dangerous.
Then Torres's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
“Repeat that.”
Her eyes went to Julian.
“When?”
She ended the call.
“They searched Grant's apartment again.”
“And?”
“Someone missed a floor safe.”
“What was inside?”
“A passport.”
“Grant's?”
“No.”
Julian felt something shift.
“Whose?”
“Michael Vale's.”
Silence.
Nathaniel frowned.
“Why would Grant have Vale's passport?”
Torres continued.
“Also twenty-eight thousand dollars cash. Two burner phones.”
Julian looked toward the window.
That looked bad.
Very bad.
Then Torres added:
“And a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“Rebecca.”
Julian turned.
The air disappeared from the room.
“When?”
“The night before she died.”
“Where?”
“Hospital parking garage.”
Julian's voice became quieter.
“Who is with her?”
Torres hesitated.
“Grant.”
Julian's expression hardened.
“And?”
“One other person.”
“Vale?”
“No.”
“Christopher?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Torres looked directly at Nathaniel.
“Nathaniel Ross.”
Julian slowly turned toward the lawyer.
May you like
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
And for the first time since the nightmare began, the man who had delivered every secret finally became one of them.
