Chapter 8 - THE TRUST FUND REVOLT
The federal prosecutor’s office downtown was cold and silent at 4:00 PM on Thursday. Assistant US Attorney Evelyn Vance, a sharp, unblinking woman who had spent her career dismantling corporate fraud rings, sat across a mountain of documents that Alistair and Arthur had spent the last forty-eight hours organizing.
The yellow triage tag, the bank ledger showing the payments to the county coroner, the paramedic's testimony, and the construction safety violations were spread out across her conference table like pieces of an ancient, horrific puzzle.
"This is an extraordinary admission of corporate and personal criminal liability, Dr. Carpenter," Vance said, her pen tapping rhythmically against her legal pad. "You realize that as the sitting medical director during the expansion period, you could face indictment for failure to report a fatal workplace accident, regardless of your lack of personal knowledge at the time?"
"I understand," Alistair said, sitting straight in his chair, his face expressionless. "I'm not asking for immunity, Miss Vance. I'm asking for a swift execution of the warrants. My mother is currently preparing to liquidate forty million dollars of the clinic’s endowment to move it into an offshore trust in the Cayman Islands. If you don't freeze the assets by five o'clock, the money will be gone."
Evelyn Vance looked at the documents, then at Alistair’s mud-stained coat, which he hadn't changed since his visit to the bridge. She saw the raw, absolute determination in his eyes—the look of a man who had already lost everything and therefore had nothing left to fear.
"The grand jury has been convened on an unrelated corporate tax case," Vance said, standing up and grabbing her briefcase. "I can present these affidavits within twenty minutes. By four-thirty, the federal marshals will have a freeze order on every account associated with the Crestview Foundation and the Gilbert Group’s sub-contractors."
She stopped at the door, looking back at him. "Your mother isn't going to survive this, Alistair. A woman of her age, with these charges... she’ll spend the rest of her life in a federal facility."
"She chose her legacy, Miss Vance," Alistair said softly. "Now she has to live in it."
As they exited the federal building, Alistair’s phone began to vibrate violently in his pocket. The caller ID showed twenty-six missed calls from Olivia and twelve from the Crestview boardroom. He didn't answer them. Instead, he called Arthur, who was waiting at the St. Jude’s orphanage site.
"Arthur, did the deed clear?"
"The property is yours, sir," Arthur’s voice came through the speaker, accompanied by the sound of electric saws and hammers in the background. "I’ve already got two construction crews from the city union on site. They're replacing the boiler and sealing the roof windows. The heat will be on by midnight."
May you like
"Good," Alistair said. "I’m going back to the river."
The sun was setting over the city, throwing long, dark shadows across the concrete towers. The corporate world Alistair had spent forty-five years navigating was crumbling around him, its stocks tumbling and its lawyers scrambling, but as he drove his SUV down toward the overpass, he felt a strange, deep sense of peace. For the first time in fifteen years, he was moving in the right direction.
