Chapter 12 - ARTHUR AGREED TO MEET SIMON ALONEDetective Carver said no.
Arthur said yes.
“You’re seventy-four.”
Arthur stared at her.
“Vivienne already made that argument.”
Carver didn’t smile.
“I’m not questioning your competence. I’m questioning the wisdom of meeting a fugitive lawyer alone.”
“Good.”
“Then don’t.”
Arthur looked at the flash drive.
“Simon asked for me.”
“That doesn’t mean we obey.”
“He thinks I have the only copy.”
“We can leverage that without putting you in a room with him.”
Arthur knew she was right.
He also knew Simon.
Simon would detect a trap if the terms changed too much.
They compromised.
Arthur would meet Simon.
But not alone.
Police would be hidden nearby.
Arthur would wear a transmitter.
The flash drive would be a duplicate containing harmless files.
Location:
A closed rowing club on the Connecticut shoreline.
Simon chose it because Arthur used to row there in college.
Of course he did.
He always weaponized familiarity.
Grant wanted to come.
Arthur refused.
“Stay with Owen and Maeve.”
“I should be there.”
“You should be where your children can find you.”
That stopped him.
Arthur arrived just before dusk.
Cold wind off the water.
Cane tapping against old wooden planks.
Simon Vale stood inside the empty boathouse.
Seventy.
Gray hair.
Tailored coat.
He looked less like a fugitive than a man waiting for a dinner reservation.
“Arthur.”
“Simon.”
“You brought the drive?”
Arthur held up a small black device.
“You brought answers?”
Simon smiled.
“You always did like theater.”
Arthur’s expression remained flat.
“You had my son drugged.”
“Vivienne panicked.”
“You arranged the clinic.”
“I made a phone call.”
“You forged my signature.”
Silence.
Then Simon sighed.
“We both know wealthy families survive because people make decisions quietly.”
Arthur almost laughed.
“You call this survival?”
“I call it continuity.”
“You call kidnapping a son and terrorizing children continuity?”
“I did not tell Vivienne to put a pillow near Owen’s head.”
“No.”
Arthur stepped closer.
“You simply told her to use Maeve if Owen didn’t cooperate.”
Simon’s face changed.
He hadn’t known about the recording.
Arthur saw it.
“Surprised?”
“She recorded us?”
“Children notice things.”
Simon looked toward the dark windows.
Arthur continued.
“You underestimated them.”
“I underestimated Vivienne.”
“No.”
“You selected her because you thought fear made her manageable.”
Simon stared.
Arthur smiled without warmth.
“You’ve been doing that to everyone.”
Simon finally dropped the polished tone.
“Give me the drive.”
“What does Marcel Keene want?”
“Winslow Advanced Systems.”
“I know.”
“The encryption division.”
“I know that too.”
“Then what answer are you looking for?”
“Why spend seven years building this?”
Simon looked tired.
“Because your family structure made a direct acquisition impossible.”
“So you manufactured incapacity.”
“I manufactured options.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“Grant was drugged.”
“I did not drug him.”
“You knew Harrow would hold him.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Vivienne would make me look cognitively impaired.”
“I knew she was documenting concerns.”
“Lies.”
Simon shrugged.
“Courts interpret documentation.”
Arthur felt disgust.
“The truth didn’t matter.”
“The documented truth matters.”
There.
Simon’s worldview in one sentence.
Arthur looked at him.
“And Elise?”
Simon’s face changed.
“She was difficult.”
“She was honest.”
“Those are often the same thing.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“Her cancer killed her.”
Arthur watched closely.
Simon looked sincere.
At least on that.
“Elise found you.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop after she threatened to expose you?”
“Because she died before she could.”
The coldness of it made Arthur grip the cane tighter.
Simon continued.
“Then Grant was vulnerable.”
“And you inserted Vivienne.”
“I introduced two adults.”
“You researched his grief.”
“Yes.”
“You timed the meeting.”
“Yes.”
“Did Vivienne know?”
“Eventually.”
Arthur looked away for a second.
Not because he pitied her.
Because the machinery was ugly.
“Marcel?”
“Paid for information.”
“How much?”
Simon smiled.
“Enough.”
“What was your cut?”
“Enough.”
Arthur held up the drive.
“What happens if this goes public?”
Simon’s eyes narrowed.
“Not public.”
“Why?”
“Because Elise’s files include transactions that could damage Winslow companies too.”
Arthur understood.
Some questionable tax structures.
Aggressive deals.
Maybe legal, maybe embarrassing.
Simon expected Arthur to protect the family name.
That was his leverage.
“You still think I care more about the company than my grandchildren.”
Simon looked at him.
“You always have.”
Arthur felt the hit.
Because once, maybe that had been true.
He stepped closer.
“Not anymore.”
Simon’s expression changed.
Police moved outside.
Arthur heard nothing.
But Simon seemed to sense it.
“You brought them.”
Arthur shrugged.
“I’m old.”
“I need help.”
Simon turned toward the side door.
Locked.
Detective Carver entered through the main entrance.
“Simon Vale.”
He stopped.
Arthur said:
“One more thing.”
Simon looked back.
“The drive is fake.”
For the first time, Simon lost control.
“You bastard.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“You’ve been signing my name for twelve years.”
“I thought you’d appreciate a document that isn’t what it claims.”
Police cuffed him.
As Simon was led away, he turned.
“Marcel won’t go quietly.”
Arthur leaned on his cane.
“Neither will I.”
Then Simon said something that stayed with Arthur.
“Ask Grant who voted the children’s shares last year.”
Arthur froze.
Grant?
The children’s voting trust had participated in an acquisition twelve months earlier.
Arthur assumed the corporate trustee handled it.
He had never checked.
Back at the mansion, Grant pulled the records.
The proxy carried his signature.
He stared.
“I didn’t sign this.”
Arthur felt cold.
Another forgery.
But this one had already been used.
And it approved a $240 million transaction with Titan Ridge.
May you like
The conspiracy had not been preparing for its first theft.
It had already succeeded once.
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