Chapter 4 - THE CORNERED RAT
The rain was pouring in sheets over the downtown financial district. Streetlights reflected off the wet asphalt like smeared neon paint.
Inside a small, dimly lit apartment on the fourth floor of a run-down building, Trevor Evans was pacing back and forth across a cheap carpet. A half-empty bottle of cheap bourbon sat on the kitchen counter.
His expensive navy suit was wrinkled. His slicked-back hair was messy, hanging in greasy strands over his forehead.
“Come on, pick up! Pick up!” Trevor yelled into his phone.
The screen connected. A cold, filtered voice came through the speaker. “You were told not to call this number, Evans.”
“Julian!” Trevor panicked, sweating profusely. “The police are outside my old office building! Chloe’s father sent a legal injunction! I uploaded the virus files like you asked into the Sterling server, but Vale’s security system blocked it within three minutes! It didn't work!”
“You are weak, Trevor,” the voice of Julian Vance replied coldly. “You were supposed to bypass their secondary firewall using your director credentials before they revoked your access.”
“They revoked my access five minutes after Roman Vale made that phone call!” Trevor shrieked. “You told me this would fix everything! You promised me five million dollars and a position at your offshore firm in the Caymans! I have nothing left! My fiancée left me, my firm fired me, and Roman Vale is going to hunt me down!”
“Then you have outlived your usefulness,” Julian Vance said simply.
Click.
The line went dead.
“Julian? Julian!” Trevor screamed, slamming the phone against the counter. The glass screen cracked into a spiderweb pattern.
Trevor grabbed his leather duffel bag from the couch. He had stuffed it with whatever cash he had left, three designer watches, and his passport. He needed to get to the airport. He needed to get out of the country before the sun came up.
He reached for the doorknob.
Before his fingers touched the brass handle, the heavy wooden door was hit with tremendous force.
BOOM!
The frame splintered instantly. The door flew inward, crashing against the wall.
Trevor fell backward onto the floor, screaming in terror as two massive figures stepped through the dust and debris.
Arthur and Silas entered first, securing the small hallway with practiced precision. Behind them walked Roman Vale, immaculate in a black trench coat, unaffected by the pouring rain outside. And beside Roman walked Sadie.
Trevor scrambled backward on his hands and knees until his back hit the kitchen cabinets.
“Sadie!” Trevor gasped, his eyes wild with fear. “Sadie, tell him! Tell him I didn't know! I didn't know who Julian Vance was! He contacted me three days ago! He offered me money!”
Sadie walked slowly into the small apartment. She looked around at the messy room, the half-empty bottle of cheap liquor, the pathetic duffel bag on the floor.
This was the man who had made her feel small for years. This was the coward who had kicked her calf in front of wealthy onlookers to make himself feel powerful.
“You never change, Trevor,” Sadie said softly, looking down at him. “You always blame someone else for your own choices.”
“Sadie, please!” Trevor wept, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. He reached out to grab her sneaker, the same white sneakers she had been wearing at the mall. “We have history! I was your first love! You can’t let him kill me!”
Roman stepped forward, his heavy leather boot coming down directly onto Trevor’s outstretched hand. He didn't stomp, but he applied just enough pressure to make Trevor howl in pain.
“Do not speak her name with that filthy mouth,” Roman said, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm.
“Mr. Vale, please!” Trevor sobbed, squirming on the floor. “I’ll tell you everything! Vance has a warehouse at the docks! Pier 42! He’s shipping a crate of stolen bonds tonight at midnight! He’s on a private yacht anchored two miles offshore!”
Roman looked down at Trevor with cold contempt. “I already knew about Pier 42 twenty minutes ago, Trevor. Your information is as useless as your loyalty.”
Roman lifted his foot. He looked at Silas.
“Call the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Roman instructed. “Deliver Mr. Evans to Special Agent Miller. Include the digital evidence of his corporate espionage, financial fraud, and tax evasion. Ensure he receives the maximum sentence without possibility of bail.”
“No! No! Not federal prison! Please!” Trevor screamed as Silas grabbed him by the collar of his suit jacket and yanked him effortlessly to his feet.
Sadie walked up to Trevor, standing inches from his pale, trembling face.
“Three years ago, you left me with six hundred dollars missing,” Sadie said quietly, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and slapped it hard against Trevor’s wet chest. “Here’s a hundred. Consider it a tip for leading us to Julian Vance.”
She turned her back on him and walked out of the apartment into the cool night air.
Behind her, Trevor’s hysterical weeping echoed down the hallway as Silas dragged him toward the waiting police transport.
Roman followed Sadie down the stairs, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped back into the Maybach.
May you like
“Pier 42,” Sadie said, looking out the tinted window at the rain-slicked city streets. “That’s where Vance is?”
“Yes,” Roman replied, holding her hand firmly. “And that is where your father’s memory will finally be cleared.”
