Chapter 8 - The Shadow in Greenwich
The Sterling estate in Greenwich, Connecticut, was a fortress of limestone, steel, and private security.
Victor Sterling, sixty-eight years old, with sleek silver hair and the immaculate carriage of an old-money aristocrat, stood on his terrace overlooking the manicured grounds. In his hand, he swirled a glass of vintage port.
Beside him stood Thomas Croft, his personal head of operations.
"Cole Maddox is gone," Croft reported quietly. "He spent the night in an abandoned warehouse near Long Island City. He tried to contact three of our junior brokers this morning. They turned him away at gunpoint as instructed."
"And the girl?" Victor asked.
"Serena Pike was picked up by North Harbor security at a motel in Queens two hours ago. They took her to the Bellamy Trust Building."
Victor’s hand paused. The port in his glass settled into stillness.
"She went for the black notebook," Victor murmured.
"Sir?"
"Cole was an arrogant brute, Thomas, but like all cowards, he kept insurance. He wrote down the transfer dates of the maritime bonds I gave him. He wrote down the shell company accounts in the Cayman Islands." Victor turned around, his eyes cold and sharp. "Nora has the ledger."
"Does it link directly to you, Mr. Sterling?" Croft asked, a trace of unease in his voice. "We used seven layers of blind trusts."
"Nora Bellamy spent twelve years studying archival accounting at Columbia," Victor said, his voice flat. "She didn't do it to preserve antique manuscripts. She did it to learn how to trace paper through seven centuries of fraud. Seven layers of shell companies will take her approximately four hours to unravel."
"Then we strike first," Croft said firmly. "We have forty men ready. If we hit the Bellamy Trust Building before she mobilizes Devereux’s dockworkers—"
"No," Victor interrupted sharply. "Samuel’s daughter is not an amateur. If you send men to that building, you will be walking into a federal trap. She wants us to react violently. She wants an excuse to bring the state police down on our terminals."
"Then what do we do, sir?"
Victor set his glass down on the stone balustrade. "We cut the fuse at the other end. Cole Maddox is still alive. As long as Cole is breathing, he is the primary signatory on those offshore accounts. If Cole disappears—permanently—the accounts freeze under international probate law for seven years. Not even Nora Bellamy can touch them without Cole’s living signature."
Croft understood immediately. "Find Maddox. Put him in the ground."
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"Find him," Victor said quietly. "And make sure Dennis Crowley and Julian Vance don't find him first."
***