Chapter 15 - The Reckoning at Midnight
Thomas moved with the explosive speed of a panther.
Before Carter could touch the breaker panel, Thomas caught him by the lapels of his designer jacket, lifting him clean off his feet and slamming him against the corrugated steel wall of the warehouse with a crash that rattled the overhead fluorescent lights.
Carter screamed, the cigar flying from his hand into a puddle on the floor. His drink shattered on the concrete.
"Listen to me, you pathetic, parasitic worm," Thomas snarled, his face inches from Carter's terrified eyes. "You spent thirty years hiding behind your mother's skirt and your brother's checkbook. You came into my house, you threatened my wife, and you tried to blackmail my men. You touch one more wire on this dock, and I won't call the police. I’ll throw you into the Cooper River with an anchor tied to your designer loafers."
"You... you can't touch me!" Carter gasped, choking against the pressure of Thomas's massive forearm. "DeWitt has the governor! The injunction is legal!"
"It isn't legal, Carter," I said, stepping up to the console and opening my leather briefcase.
I pulled out a thick, white document bearing the gold seal of the United States Department of Justice, Special Investigations Division.
Frank Miller looked up, blinking through his tears. Carter’s eyes bulged with terror.
"Samuel Ward didn't just give us the family ledgers, Carter," I said with cold satisfaction. "He gave us Julian’s personal communications from the federal prison terminal. We know Marcus DeWitt didn't use legitimate capital to purchase your debt notes. He used money laundered through an illegal sports-betting syndicate operating out of a casino boat outside the three-mile international limit—the exact same syndicate that held Frank's son's debt."
Carter went pale as skim milk. "No... that's not true..."
"You and DeWitt manufactured the entire debt scheme to extort Vance Logistics," I said, slamming the federal document down onto the console before Frank. "Frank, listen to me. Toby is safe. Federal marshals took him into protective custody in Durham two hours ago. The bookmakers who threatened him are currently in federal holding cells in Raleigh. Toby is clean. You don't owe these monsters anything."
Frank dropped the crowbar. The heavy iron clattered against the concrete floor with a deafening ring.
He buried his face in his grease-stained hands, weeping aloud. "Oh God... Eleanor... Thomas... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."
"Frank," Thomas said, releasing Carter, who slumped to the floor, gasping for air and clutching his bruised throat. Thomas walked over to his old friend, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Can you clear the barge?"
Frank wiped his eyes on his sleeve, looked at the red warning lights on the terminal console, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"The winch hydraulics are undamaged," Frank said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can reverse the auxiliary towlines and pull the obstruction out of the main shipping lane in twenty minutes. The morning tide won't be lost."
"Then do it," Thomas ordered gently. "And then you and I will have a long conversation about loyalty, redemption, and what it means to be a man."
Frank nodded vigorously, his hands flying across the controls with practiced mastery. Outside, the great electric winches groaned to life, the steel cables tightening like bowstrings as they began dragging the rogue barge clear of the deep-water channel.
I turned back to Carter Montgomery, who was crawling toward the exit like a beaten dog.
"Get up, Carter," I commanded.
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, naked hatred. "You think you've won, don't you? My mother still holds the deed to the historic house on the Battery! She still has friends in every bank in South Carolina! We will drag your name through every gutter in the South until you can't show your face in public!"
"Your mother has nothing left," I said softly, looking down at him with genuine pity. "Because while you were playing saboteur on my docks, the FBI was executing a search warrant on the Montgomery mansion on Meeting Street. They found Julian's secondary ledgers hidden in the attic rafters. By breakfast, Beatrice will be facing thirty-two counts of federal bank fraud and obstruction of justice."
Carter’s mouth fell open in silent horror.
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"Get off my property," Thomas said, pointing toward the door where two Charleston police officers stood waiting with handcuffs ready. "Before I decide to finish what you started."
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