Chapter 11 - The Phantom in the Archives
The corporate headquarters of Carter Global in downtown Boston occupied the top four floors of a gleaming glass tower overlooking Boston Harbor. From the executive suite, the city looked like a circuit board of flashing lights and moving shadows, clean and orderly from a distance of five hundred feet.
Emily sat behind a glass-top desk that was three times larger than the one in her old apartment, her fingers moving rhythmically across a dual-monitor keyboard as she combed through the encrypted hard drives recovered from the Gloucester raid.
The door chimed softly, and Frank Miller stepped inside, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, holding a thick manila envelope stamped with red classification seals.
"Federal marshals just finished inventorying Sterling’s personal offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands," Frank said, tossing the envelope onto the corner of her desk. "There’s a secondary ledger that didn't make it into the initial federal indictment. It looks like Margaret wasn't the only one on Vanguard’s payroll inside this building."
Emily stopped typing. The soft hum of the servers seemed to fade into the background as she reached out and pulled the envelope toward her. "Who else?"
"Your predecessor," Frank said, leaning his hip against the edge of the desk. "The estate manager who hired you eight months ago—Robert Vance. He didn't resign to take a better job in Chicago. He caught a red-eye flight to Zurich two hours after Noah’s collapse."
Emily opened the folder, her eyes scanning the wire transfer records until they landed on a name that made her breath catch in her throat.
"Julian Vance," she whispered, reading the signature on the primary contract. "Arthur Sterling’s cousin. He didn't just place Margaret in the house—he planted Robert to oversee the security codes for the west wing well system."
"And he’s currently sitting on a private yacht off the coast of Monaco," Frank added, his hand resting casually near his holster. "The local authorities can't touch him without an extradition warrant from the Swiss government, which could take months to clear diplomatic channels."
Emily closed the folder slowly, her dark eyes flashing with a cold, focused intensity that reminded Frank uncomfortably of Michael Carter on his worst days.
"We don't need an extradition warrant, Frank," she said quietly, standing up from her desk and buttoning her blazer. "We just need to make it unprofitable for him to stay offshore."
May you like
Frank smiled—a rare, grim expression that showed his teeth. "What do you suggest, boss?"
"Call our subsidiary in Zurich," Emily said, grabbing her tablet and sliding it into her leather briefcase. "Tell them we’re calling in the maritime liens on every commercial shipping vessel bearing Vanguard’s flag currently docked in European waters. If Julian Vance wants to keep his yacht, he can do it from a public jail cell."
