Chapter 12 - The Serpent’s Bench
The air in the Union Trust vault suddenly felt freezing, thin, and suffocating.
I stared at the signature line on the 1996 partnership agreement. *Horace V. Albright.* Below it was his official personal notary seal, dated three years before he had been elevated to the Court of Common Pleas.
He wasn't an impartial jurist who had just rescued us from Blackwood Partners.
He was the architect.
He had signed the restraining order against Julian Vance not to protect me, but to sever the connection between the operating company and himself before the State Police could trace the ownership structure up to his chambers.
I closed the folder, my mind racing at light speed.
If Albright was the primary partner, then Simone Harlow had just walked directly into his lion’s den this morning to file the emergency injunction. Every document we had submitted, every evidentiary exhibit from Florence’s pantry, was now sitting on Horace Albright’s private judicial desk.
I grabbed the leather binder, scooped the sixteen letters and the green velvet pouch into my bag, and pushed through the frosted glass door of the alcove.
Simone was standing beside the guard station, reviewing a court calendar on her tablet. Agent Miller was on her phone ten feet away, speaking in hushed, urgent tones to the district attorney’s office.
“Simone,” I said, keeping my voice flat, low, and completely controlled. “We need to leave. Now.”
Simone looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Della? What’s wrong? Did you find the share certificates?”
“Agent Miller,” I said, turning to the investigator who had just hung up her phone. “Who assigned the emergency injunction petition to Judge Albright’s courtroom this morning?”
Miller blinked, surprised by the question. “It went through standard judicial rotation at the Allegheny County civil division. Why?”
I opened the manila folder and held up the 1996 Blackwood partnership agreement, pointing my finger directly at the signature block.
Miller’s eyes widened. Her jaw went completely rigid. “Jesus Christ.”
“He didn't freeze Eileen’s accounts to help us,” I said, the fury rising like hot iron in my throat. “He froze them to prevent Eileen from liquidating funds that belong to *him*. And right now, he has the original copies of Mark Marlow’s 2005 will in his chambers.”
Miller reached for her duty radio strapped to her vest. “Dispatch, this is Unit 412. I need an immediate tactical hold on the fourth floor of the City-County Building. Chambers of Judge Horace Albright. Secure all filing intake logs immediately.”
The radio hissed with static before a dispatcher responded:
*“Unit 412, be advised, Judge Albright’s chambers were placed on emergency administrative recess twenty minutes ago. The judge has cleared his docket and exited the facility via the private judicial sally port. His vehicle was logged leaving the downtown parking garage six minutes ago.”*
Miller cursed violently under her breath. “Where was his vehicle headed?”
*“Traffic management cameras show his black Lincoln Navigator heading east toward the Parkway East. Direction: Pine Township.”*
He wasn't running to the airport.
He was heading to the house.
“Tobias and Faye are there alone,” I gasped, the cold realization hitting me like an electric shock. “Tobias has his crew on the roof, but Faye is inside the house alone.”
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“Move!” Agent Miller shouted, sprinting toward the vault exit stairs. “Get to the cruisers!”
***