Chapter 10 - The Sterling Account Cracks
In New York City, the corporate headquarters of Kane & Vance occupied the forty-second floor of a sleek glass tower on Park Avenue.
On the morning of December 28th, the executive conference room did not have its usual festive post-holiday atmosphere.
Marcus Kane sat at the head of the long marble conference table. Surrounding him were four senior partners, the firm’s chief compliance officer, and two forensic investigators from an outside accounting firm.
On the speakerphone in the center of the table was Arthur Vance.
“Marcus,” Arthur Vance’s gravelly voice boomed through the speakers. “I have reviewed the registration logs on the Stamford project. Every single design patent was filed by Claire Bennett under her personal LLC, six months before Evan Bennett submitted those identical files to your investment committee.”
Marcus Kane rubbed his temples. The veins in his forehead were pulsing with cold fury.
“Arthur,” Marcus said carefully. “Evan Bennett assured the committee that his family’s firm held the proprietary rights to those models. He provided documentation signed by Richard Bennett.”
“Richard Bennett is a registered draftsman who hasn't designed an original structural beam in twelve years!” Arthur snapped. “The man is a fraud, Marcus! He was using his daughter’s credentials because his own professional insurance was cancelled after a structural failure in Allentown four years ago!”
Marcus Kane turned his head toward his chief compliance officer. “Is this confirmed?”
The compliance officer, a severe-looking woman with wire-rimmed glasses, nodded slowly. “We ran the cross-checks with the Pennsylvania State Licensing Board an hour ago. Richard Bennett’s firm has three outstanding disciplinary inquiries. Furthermore, the banking records show that the six-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar development deposit we transferred to Bennett & Associates was immediately diverted into a personal brokerage account in Evan Bennett’s name.”
Eleanor Kane, who was sitting in the corner of the room reviewing her own private foundation documents, looked up with an icy smile.
“The young man who couldn't even arrange to have a twenty-pound turkey cooked for dinner,” Eleanor remarked dryly. “It seems he was far more ambitious in his theft than in his domestic duties.”
Marcus closed his eyes for three long seconds. When he opened them, the last shred of mercy had vanished from his gaze.
“Terminate him,” Marcus said.
“Marcus,” the managing partner beside him warned. “If we terminate him for cause immediately, we may trigger a mandatory reporting requirement with the SEC regarding the Stamford fund prospectus.”
“Let it trigger,” Marcus hissed. “We report him first. We cooperate fully. We paint Evan Bennett as a rogue associate who falsified documentation to secure his placement in the firm. Arthur, will your development group maintain their equity position if we purge Evan and bring in legitimate design oversight?”
“That depends entirely on Claire Bennett,” Arthur Vance replied from the speakerphone.
The room went still.
“What does Claire Bennett have to do with this?” Marcus asked.
“She owns the underlying copyright to the Stamford designs,” Arthur said flatly. “Without her signature releasing those structural models to Kane & Vance, your entire Stamford project is dead in the water. You cannot lay a single brick without committing federal copyright infringement. And if you think Claire Bennett is going to sign anything for your firm after the way your golden boy and his parents treated her, you don't know the Vance family’s commitment to justice.”
Marcus leaned toward the speakerphone. “Arthur… where is she?”
“She’s in Italy,” Arthur said, a hint of dark satisfaction in his voice. “Living her life. Far away from Pennsylvania, far away from your boardroom, and far away from the parasitic family that tried to bleed her dry. If you want those signatures, Marcus, you won't be sending Evan. You won't be sending Richard. You’d better go on your knees, with an eight-figure check in your hand.”
The call disconnected with a sharp click.
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Marcus Kane turned to his executive assistant. “Get Evan Bennett on the phone right now. Tell him to come to the office. If he refuses, have the security team meet him at his apartment with the police.”
***