Chapter 9 - The Dead Auditor
My father took the phone from my hand.
"What happened to Peter?"
Adrian did not answer.
Dad's voice became sharper.
"What happened to Peter Sloan?"
"He found something."
"What?"
"The Danton Ridge payments."
Dad gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Peter was auditing a logistics subsidiary."
"That's how he found them."
"And you knew?"
"Victor told me Peter had asked questions."
"What did you do?"
A long silence followed.
"I met him."
Dad closed his eyes.
"Where?"
"A diner outside Richmond."
"When?"
"The night he died."
Margaret stopped typing.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
"What happened at the diner?" Dad asked.
"He said he had copies."
"Of what?"
"Transfers linking Victor's entities to Vale Meridian vendors."
"And?"
"He wanted to talk to you in person the next morning."
Dad looked as if someone had struck him.
"He never called me."
"I know."
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him he was wrong."
"Then what?"
"I called Victor."
Nobody breathed.
Dad's voice dropped.
"You told Victor where Peter was."
"I didn't know what he would do."
"You told him where Peter was."
"Yes."
Dad lowered the phone.
For a second, I thought he might throw it.
Instead, he gave it back to me.
"Ask him the rest."
I looked at Dad.
"Why me?"
"Because if I keep talking to him, I will stop listening."
I put the phone to my ear.
"Adrian."
"I'm here."
"Did Victor arrange Peter's accident?"
"I don't know."
"What do you believe?"
He exhaled.
"Yes."
Dad turned away.
I watched his shoulders become rigid.
Peter had not been just an employee.
He had been one of Dad's oldest friends.
He taught me to play chess in Hartwell conference rooms while my father worked late.
He mailed me a card every birthday until the year he died.
I remembered Dad telling me the accident made no sense because Peter never drove fast.
Now there was a reason it made no sense.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Because Victor sent me a photograph the next morning."
"Of what?"
"Me leaving the diner with Peter."
"That proves you met him."
"There was also audio."
"Audio of what?"
"Me telling Peter I could make his problem disappear."
Dad turned back.
"What did you mean?"
Adrian's voice broke.
"I meant I could pay the vendor debt and close the irregular accounts."
"Convenient."
"I know how it sounds."
"You keep saying that."
"Because everything sounds worse than it was."
I nearly lost control of my voice.
"You ordered your wife to endure two hundred lashes while your mistress counted, and you are still arguing that things merely sound bad?"
Silence.
"I need a deal," he said again.
"Then get a lawyer who can negotiate one with prosecutors."
"Weller quit."
That surprised me.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
Dad gave a dry laugh.
"Thomas finally developed instincts."
Adrian ignored him.
"Mara, please."
"Stop saying my name like it belongs to you."
"I can help you."
"You can tell the truth."
"I need protection first."
"From Victor?"
"And from your father."
Dad turned around.
"I don't need to harm you, Adrian."
His voice was almost gentle.
"You have spent years doing that work yourself."
Adrian hung up.
The room remained silent afterward.
Then Dad walked to the window.
"Peter called me three times that week."
I stood carefully.
"You didn't answer?"
"I was in Tokyo."
"You called him back."
"Yes."
"And?"
"He said it could wait."
Dad pressed two fingers against the glass.
"It couldn't."
I walked toward him.
"You didn't know."
"That does not make him less dead."
I did not tell him it was not his fault.
He would have hated that sentence.
Instead, I stood beside him.
"Then we find out what happened."
He nodded once.
Margaret's phone rang.
She answered, listened, and immediately put the call on speaker.
David Serrano's voice filled the room.
"We found the forty million."
I turned.
"Where?"
"It was moved out of Singapore eleven days ago."
"To where?"
"Four accounts in Luxembourg, then consolidated into a trust vehicle in the Caymans."
Dad asked, "Beneficial owner?"
David hesitated.
"That's the problem."
"Whose name?"
"Mara's."
I had expected that.
"Forged again?"
"Yes, but this one is much better."
"How much better?"
"It includes a notarized passport copy."
My hand went to my chest.
"My passport is in my safe."
"Which passport?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"The trust file uses the passport that expired five years ago."
I stared at Dad.
That passport had not been in my possession since it expired.
Hartwell family security collected old identity documents for destruction.
Dad understood at the same moment I did.
"Internal access," he said.
"Again," David replied.
Margaret asked, "Any link to Lionel?"
"More than a link."
Paper moved on the other end.
"The trust protector signature authorizing the account structure belongs to Lionel Price."
Dad did not react.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
"Are you certain?"
"We are verifying, but it matches his authenticated signature samples."
"Call him," I said.
Dad shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if Lionel is involved, I want him comfortable."
"He already knows something happened."
"Knowing something happened and knowing we found his signature are different."
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A new message appeared.
PETER SLOAN WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT.
Then a second.
ADRIAN DID NOT KILL HIM.
Then a third.
May you like
YOUR FATHER'S FRIEND DID.
Attached was a photograph of Lionel Price standing beside Peter Sloan's car on the night Peter died.
