Chapter 3 - The Shadow Ledger
The rain fell in sheets over the sprawling glass facade of Albright Global Logistics' corporate headquarters in downtown Marion. It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening, but the forty-story skyscraper was lit up like a burning torch against the black storm clouds.
Inside the thirty-fifth-floor executive suite, Gabriel Albright was tearing through his mahogany desk with the frenzied desperation of a cornered animal.
His navy tie was ripped off, lying trampled on the Persian rug. The expensive tailoring of his suit was soaked in sweat. His hair, normally slicked back with salon pomade, fell in wild, greasy strands across his forehead. He threw files, leather-bound planners, and crystal decanters onto the floor, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the empty, silent boardroom.
"Where is it?!" he screamed to the empty room, slamming both fists onto the desk. "Where did she put the duplicate certificate?!"
Sitting on the leather sofa near the private bar, Bianca Shepherd was frantically stuffing designer silk scarves, diamond tennis bracelets, and bundles of hundred-dollar bills into an oversized Louis Vuitton duffel bag.
Her makeup was smeared from crying in the holding cell, and her wrist bore red, angry chafing marks from the steel handcuffs. She had been released on bail an hour after Gabriel, thanks to a second bail bondsman paid out of a Cayman Islands shell company.
"Stop screaming like an idiot and find the passport keys!" Bianca hissed, zipping the duffel with violent force. "The police took my real passport, Gabriel! If we don't get to the airfield in Wilmington before the federal prosecutor signs the interstate flight warrant, we are going to spend the next thirty years in a federal penitentiary!"
Gabriel spun on her, his face twisted into an expression of sheer, unadulterated venom. "This is your fault! You stupid, incompetent bitch! You told me that recording device Daisy had was just a plastic toy! You told me she was too stupid to understand what we were doing!"
Bianca stood up, her eyes blazing with equal hatred. She marched across the room and shoved him hard against the desk. "My fault?! Who forgot to check the top of the refrigerator, Gabriel? Who left the girl running around the courthouse unsupervised while you were preening in your three-thousand-dollar suit like you’d already won? You were the one who got greedy! I told you to take the sixty million settlement Penelope offered last month and leave the country! But no—you wanted the ports! You wanted her father’s shipping empire!"
"Because it was mine!" Gabriel roared, his spittle spraying her face. "I built this brand! Old man Miller was a dinosaur who didn't understand algorithmic shipping logistics! I took his decrepit rust-bucket fleet and turned it into a two-billion-dollar enterprise!"
"With his daughter’s money!" a voice boomed from the doorway.
Gabriel and Bianca both froze.
Standing in the double mahogany entryway of the executive suite were four armed federal marshals in tactical vests, flanked by two senior agents from the Internal Revenue Service’s Criminal Investigation Division.
Walking slowly behind them was Arthur Vance, flanked by a tall, razor-sharp woman in a charcoal pantsuit carrying a federal warrant stamped with the gold seal of the United States District Court for the Eastern District.
"Gabriel Albright," the woman said, displaying her badge. "I am Special Agent Sarah Jenkins, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Financial Crimes Task Force. Step away from the desk and place your hands on your head."
Gabriel blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "Wait... wait a minute. This is a local domestic dispute! My lawyers have already filed an appeal on the custody injunction! You have no jurisdiction here!"
"We don't give a damn about your divorce, Mr. Albright," Agent Jenkins said with icy precision. "We are here executing a federal seizure warrant for Albright Global Logistics. As of twenty minutes ago, the Securities and Exchange Commission, acting in coordination with the Department of Justice, has frozen all domestic and offshore corporate accounts belonging to you, your shell corporations in Belize, and Ms. Bianca Schaffer."
Bianca gasped, dropping the heavy duffel bag to the floor with a dull thud. "Schaffer? No... my name is Shepherd..."
"Save it for your arraignment, Ms. Schaffer," Jenkins cut her off. "We’ve had a federal wiretap on your offshore routing numbers since last November, when the Miller Family Trust flagged unauthorized transfers exceeding forty-two million dollars. Mrs. Albright didn't just walk out of that courtroom today to cry in a hospital bed. She signed over complete power of attorney and her father’s private corporate security logs to federal authorities three hours ago."
Gabriel staggered backward, his knees hitting his executive chair. He looked at Arthur Vance, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror.
"Arthur... Arthur, please," Gabriel pleaded, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine. "You were Thomas Miller’s friend. You know how much he loved this company. If you do this, the stock will crash to zero! Ten thousand people will lose their jobs! Think of Penelope! Think of my son!"
Arthur Vance stepped past the federal agents. He walked right up to Gabriel, his jaw set like an anvil. When he spoke, his voice was low, terrifyingly calm, and heavy with righteous contempt.
"You don't get to say his name, Gabriel," Arthur said. "You don't get to mention the child you tried to murder before he took his first breath. And as for Thomas Miller’s company... don't you worry about the stock. Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, the Board of Directors is convening an emergency session. By unanimous consent of the majority voting shares—which have officially reverted back to Penelope Albright—you have been terminated as Chief Executive Officer, Chairman of the Board, and general partner, effective immediately."
"You can't do that!" Gabriel screamed, lunging toward Arthur.
Before he could take two steps, the two federal marshals tackled him to the floor, driving his face hard into the plush Persian carpet. The sharp *click-clack* of ratcheting handcuffs sounded through the room.
"Get off me!" Gabriel thrash-screamed, his face pressed against the floorboards. "I own this building! I built this city! You can't touch me! Penelope is nothing without me! She’s an emotional cripple! She’s going to die in that hospital!"
"Take them both down to federal processing," Agent Jenkins ordered, not even looking at him as Bianca was simultaneously seized and cuffed, sobbing hysterically as her designer bag was kicked aside by a marshal.
As Gabriel was hauled to his feet, his suit torn, his nose bleeding from the impact with the floor, he caught Arthur Vance’s cold, unblinking eyes.
May you like
"Penelope sends a message," Arthur whispered into Gabriel’s ear as the marshals dragged him toward the door. "She says you can keep the navy suit. She’s taking everything else."
***
