Chapter 13 - The River Terminal
They left in a storm of spinning rubber and curses, but the threat they left behind was real.
By sunrise the next morning, Arthur and I were sitting in the cab of my work truck, idling outside the massive corrugated steel gates of the Vance Terminal on the muddy banks of the Mississippi River just south of Dubuque.
The river was half-choked with slabs of gray ice, grinding together with low, groaning thuds against the wooden pilings of the docks. High above, the mammoth silver grain silos Clara's husband had constructed in the nineteen-sixties stood like frozen sentinels against a steel-colored winter sky.
A yellow chain had been padlocked across the main weigh-scale entrance. Pinned to the chain was a bright red plastic notice encased in laminated plastic:
**SEIZED PURSUANT TO ADMIRALTY WARRANT — UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT FOR THE NORTHERN DISTRICT OF ILLINOIS — ROTTERDAM GRAIN SYNDICATE V. VANCE LOGISTICS LLC ET AL.**
Two private security guards in black parkas sat inside an idling Ford Explorer just beyond the fence, their breath steaming up the windows.
Arthur spat out a wad of tobacco onto the snow. "Over four hundred thousand bushels of last autumn's harvest sitting in those three bins, Ethan. If we can't move that grain down to the processing plants in Clinton before the moisture sets in during the spring thaw, it'll rot. Two million dollars worth of corn and beans turned to fermented mush."
"It won't rot," I said, opening my door and stepping down into the slush.
I walked straight up to the yellow chain. The security guard rolled down his window, looking at me with tired indifference. "Terminal is closed, buddy. Federal court order."
"I'm Ethan Vance," I said, leaning down slightly. "The majority owner of the ground lease on this slipway."
The guard glanced down at a clipboard on his lap. "Name's not on the authorized access list, Mr. Vance. The only names here are Victor Sterling and Tyler Vance. And according to the marshals, nobody moves an ounce of grain until the lien hearing in Chicago tomorrow morning."
"Who's the receiver representing the Dutch syndicate?" I asked.
"Law firm out of Chicago. Halloway, Cross & Vance," the guard replied.
I paused, a bitter chill washing down my neck. "What did you say?"
"Halloway, Cross & Vance," the guard repeated, tapping the legal caption on the front sheet. "Lead partner on the receivership filing is Marcus Vance."
Arthur had just caught up to me, his boots crunching in the gravel. When he heard that name, he cursed violently under his breath.
"Marcus?" Arthur spat. "Your uncle Marcus? The one who vanished to Chicago twenty years ago after the grain cooperative audit?"
"He didn't vanish," I said, my fists clenching inside my work gloves until the leather strained. "He went into corporate bankruptcy restructuring. He was Evelyn's favorite brother-in-law."
It wasn't just Victor Sterling trying to take the farm. Sterling was merely the hammer. The architect holding the handle was blood kin—a man who had spent two decades waiting for Clara to die so he could pick the flesh off the family estate.
My phone rang. I pulled it out and saw Tessa's number flashing.
"Ethan," she said, her voice frantic over the speaker. "Where are you?"
"At the river terminal," I answered. "Marcus is behind the receivership."
"I know," Tessa said breathlessly. "I just found the original 1994 partnership agreement in Clara’s cedar chest. Ethan, you need to get back to the house immediately. Clara didn't leave you the farm through a standard will."
"What are you talking about, Tessa?"
"She executed a reciprocal maritime deed of trust in 1988 when your grandfather died," Tessa explained, the sound of rustling legal parchment audible in the background. "Clara knew Marcus would try to strip the river elevators if she ever passed. She tied the riverfront ground lease directly to Lila’s personal trust, not Vance Logistics. And there is a penalty forfeiture clause in it that Victor Sterling’s lawyers completely missed."
"What kind of penalty?"
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"If any family member attempts to levy an illegal lien against the elevators," Tessa said, "the entire riverfront property automatically reverts to the sole custody of the direct lineal descendant who has never held a corporate share in Vance Logistics. That's Lila. But Ethan... Marcus’s men just served a summons on the farmhouse. They're demanding Lila appear in federal court in Chicago tomorrow morning at nine o'clock for a deposition regarding Clara’s mental capacity."
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