Chapter 18 - ARTHUR VALE’S LAST MOVE
Arthur escaped conviction.
For exactly eleven hours.
His lawyers discovered a procedural problem with one warrant.
The judge ordered him temporarily released pending another hearing.
At 6:10 p.m., Arthur walked out of the courthouse.
At 6:42, he disappeared.
At 7:03, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Lin.”
Arthur.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere your security won’t find me.”
“What do you want?”
“Your father’s archive.”
“No.”
He laughed.
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You will.”
A photograph arrived.
My mother-in-law.
Sitting in a chair.
Terrified.
Shiaoza saw it over my shoulder.
His face went white.
Arthur spoke.
“Bring both keys.”
“Where?”
“Old Pier Seventeen.”
Police were already tracing the call.
Arthur knew that.
“This ends tonight,” he said.
Then disconnected.
Shiaoza grabbed his jacket.
“No.”
He stared at me.
“That’s my mother.”
“And Arthur expects you to react emotionally.”
“I am reacting emotionally.”
“Exactly.”
He stopped.
Three years earlier, this would have become a fight.
Instead he closed his eyes.
“What’s the plan?”
That question told me our marriage really had changed.
We worked with investigators.
Arthur wanted the keys because he believed destroying the archive would destroy the case.
He didn’t know everything had already been digitized.
We arrived at the pier wearing transmitters.
Arthur stood inside an abandoned warehouse.
Madam Shiao sat nearby.
Her hands were tied.
Arthur held a gun.
I stopped twenty feet away.
“Keys.”
I lifted them.
“Let her go.”
“Keys first.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You always were your father’s daughter.”
“You say that like an insult.”
“He was sentimental.”
“He beat you.”
His smile disappeared.
“He died.”
“And you still couldn’t beat him.”
Arthur raised the gun slightly.
Shiaoza tensed beside me.
I touched his hand.
Stay.
Arthur noticed.
“You finally trained him.”
“No.”
Shiaoza answered.
“I finally grew up.”
Arthur laughed.
“You think love changes people?”
Shiaoza looked at me.
“No.”
Then back at Arthur.
“Consequences do.”
Police moved outside.
Arthur didn’t know.
I threw the keys.
Not toward him.
Past him.
They skidded beneath a steel shelving unit.
Arthur cursed and turned.
That was enough.
Shiaoza moved toward his mother.
Arthur spun back.
The gun fired.
The sound exploded through the warehouse.
I screamed.
Shiaoza fell.
Police stormed through every entrance.
Arthur was tackled.
I ran.
“Shiaoza!”
Blood spread across his shoulder.
His eyes opened.
“I’m okay.”
I laughed and cried simultaneously.
“You really need to stop saying that while bleeding.”
He smiled weakly.
Paramedics rushed in.
Madam Shiao was safe.
Arthur was dragged past us in handcuffs.
He looked at me with hatred.
“This company should have been mine.”
I stood.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You never understood the company.”
“What?”
“You thought owning people’s fear meant owning them.”
I looked around at the officers, employees, investigators, and family members who had helped expose him.
“It doesn’t.”
May you like
Arthur was taken away.
And this time, there would be no eleven-hour miracle.
