Chapter 5 - The Collapse of the Empire
By Thursday evening, the financial bloodbath was complete. Business news networks ran emergency broadcasts: Pierce Group Stock Halts Trading Following Unexpected Debt Default.
The television flashed with aerial footage of news helicopters hovering over the Manhattan tower. Reporters thrust microphones toward executives walking out with cardboard boxes.
"The board of directors has ousted Desmond Pierce," the anchor announced. "Federal investigators are looking into allegations of systemic financial fraud, pension fund embezzlement, and securities manipulation. Sources report that an anonymous investment firm, Vanguard Holdings, has acquired controlling interest..."
Dad sat at the dining table, cleaning his service pistol with a flannel cloth and gun oil. The comforting scent of solvent filled the cabin.
"They always fall the same way," Dad said without looking up. "Too much pride, too little discipline."
My phone rang. An unknown Manhattan number. I pressed accept and put it on speakerphone.
"Juliet?"
Owen's voice was shaky, thin, and devoid of its usual arrogance.
"I’m listening, Owen," I said.
"Please... we need to talk," he stammered, background noise indicating he was on a New York street corner in the freezing rain. "My dad had a stroke an hour ago. The lawyers abandoned us. The banks are seizing everything. We have nothing left."
"You have five hundred bucks in your pocket, Owen," I reminded him quietly. "Isn't that what your mother threw at my father's feet?"
Silence stretched across the line. I could hear the hiss of wet tires and his ragged breathing.
"We made a mistake," he whispered. "Please... whatever you want. Just tell us what it will take to make this stop."
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"There is no stop, Owen," I said. "This is just the mop-up operation."
I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table.
