Chapter 7 - The Gavel of Retribution
Senior Assistant Attorney General Marcus Reynolds stepped forward from the corner of the boardroom, unzipping an expandable leather litigation file stamped with the gold seal of the State of Illinois:
SLAP.
The heavy paper made a sharp, concussive sound against the mahogany table.
"Daniel Arthur Vance," Reynolds announced, his deep, authoritative baritone cutting through the silent room like a diamond scribe on glass.
"At eight-fifteen this morning, the Illinois Department of Financial and Professional Regulation issued an emergency summary revocation of your professional engineering license under 225 ILCS 325/38.
Furthermore, the Cook County Grand Jury returned eleven felony indictments against you thirty minutes ago:
Three counts of commercial forgery under 720 ILCS 5/17-3.
Four counts of wire fraud involving municipal transit bonding escrows.
And four counts of aggravated conversion of trust assets exceeding two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Daniel stumbled backward, his back hitting the glass wall overlooking the lake, his chest heaving in short, panicked spasms as his hands flew to his collar, tearing at his silk tie.
"Rachel!" Daniel wailed, rounding on his mistress with wild, frantic desperation. "Rachel, tell them! Tell them the Heritage Tower down payment was an investment partnership! Tell them your father approved the loan from our corporate distributions!"
Rachel Cross slowly lifted her chin.
She looked at Daniel Vance.
She did not look at his charcoal sport coat. She did not look at his polished shoes.
She looked at the man who had dragged her to an airport baggage claim to hurt an innocent woman, and who had used stolen family trust money to buy her silence.
"My father called the United States Attorney’s Office at seven o'clock this morning, Daniel," Rachel said, her voice clear, crystalline, and dead-level.
"He withdrew our family’s equity position from the Red Hook project.
He canceled our commercial lease in Chicago.
And as of eight-thirty...
I signed a sworn state affidavit confirming that you told me the two hundred and ninety thousand dollars...
was your separate, unencumbered personal inheritance."
Rachel picked up her leather purse, stood up from the mahogany table, and walked toward the exit doors.
She stopped beside my chair, looking down at me where I sat in my emerald suit.
"I’m sorry, Claire," Rachel whispered, her eyes shining with raw, unvarnished shame. "I thought he was a builder. I didn't know he was a squatter."
"You know now, Rachel," I replied softly, my voice steady as an iron spar. "Have a safe flight back to Arizona."
Rachel walked through the heavy mahogany doors, leaving Daniel alone in the corner of the room.
Gordon Caldwell stood up, sliding a three-page document across the table until it rested against Daniel’s trembling knuckles:
VANCE & CALDWELL ENGINEERING INC. – EXECUTIVE EXPULSION
ACTION: IMMEDIATE EXPULSION UNDER SECTION 14 OF CORPORATE CHARTER
EQUITY FORFEITURE: 100% OF SHARES CONFISCATED TO SATISFY MUNICIPAL RESTITUTION
FACILITY BAN: PERMANENT CITATION OF TRESPASS FOR ALL OFFICES NATIONWIDE
"Sign the surrender of shares, Daniel," Gordon commanded softly.
"Or the county sheriff waiting in the lobby downstairs...
will escort you to the municipal holding cells in chains."
Daniel stared at the paper. His hand shook so violently that the gold pen rattled against the parchment before he scrawled his name: Daniel A. Vance.
He dropped the pen, looking across the table at me with bloodshot, ruined eyes that were hollowed out by total, unrecoverable defeat.
"Claire..." Daniel wept, his shoulders heaving with ragged, suffocating sobs. "Where am I supposed to go? You took the firm. You took the trust. You took the house. What do I have left?"
I stood up slowly from my father’s chair, buttoning my emerald wool coat, looking down at the man who had called my son a failure twenty-four hours earlier.
"You have your charcoal jacket, Daniel," I said softly, every word falling with the clean, terrifying finality of a closing tomb.
"The one you saved for special occasions.
May you like
Now take your coat...
and get the hell out of my father’s building."
