Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Boardroom
At 7:45 AM, the executive boardroom on the 48th floor of Hendricks & Croft was silent. The glass table reflected the gray morning light filtering through the Manhattan smog.
Paul Hendricks, a polished man of fifty-five with silver-templed hair and a bespoke charcoal suit, was busily packing sensitive documents into a leather briefcase. His Montblanc pen lay uncapped next to an official notary seal.
The heavy double doors swung open without a knock.
Hendricks jumped, nearly spilling his fresh espresso. He looked up, his face instantly hardening into a mask of legal condescension.
“Evelyn,” he said, adjusting his silk tie. “I’m deeply sorry about the tragic events at the estate last night. I was just preparing the paperwork to place your father’s estate into a protective legal conservatorship. Given his mental decline—”
“Save the monologue, Paul,” I said, closing the mahogany doors behind me and clicking the brass lock into place. “You aren't protecting my father. You’re liquidating his life.”
Hendricks let out a low, patronizing sigh. “I understand you’re emotional, Evelyn. But as Jonathan’s designated legal representative—”
“You ceased being his representative at 6:00 AM,” I interrupted, tossing a thick blue-backed legal document onto his desk.
Hendricks frowned, looking down at the paper. His eyes darted across the text, and the color instantly drained from his face.
“An emergency ex parte injunction?” he stammered. “From Judge Thorne?”
“Judge Thorne was my mentor at the Southern District,” I said coldly, walking slowly around the conference table. “When I presented him with the mass spectrometry analysis of the poisoned cake, along with the corporate filings showing that your Delaware shell company received an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar ‘consulting fee’ from Clara Vance’s Panamanian account last month, he was more than happy to sign.”
Hendricks’s hands began to sweat. “You don’t understand the full scope of this, Evelyn. You’re meddling in matters far beyond your pay grade.”
“Oh, I understand completely,” I said, leaning over the table until my face was inches from his. “You found Clara through an offshore wealth manager. You realized my father was lonely, aging, and vulnerable. You supplied the forged trust documents, you vetted her background to ensure no red flags popped up on the basic Ashford security checks, and in exchange, you were promised a twenty percent cut of the fifty-million-dollar offshore portfolio.”
Hendricks swallowed hard. He reached toward his desk phone. “Get out of my office before I have building security remove you.”
“Go ahead and call them,” I said with a thin smile. “Or better yet, check your incoming messages.”
Right on cue, Hendricks’s phone buzzed aggressively against the mahogany wood.
He looked down at the notification. It was a live push-alert from the New York Law Journal, cross-referenced with a press release from the United States Attorney’s Office:
*FEDERAL AUTHORITIES FREEZE ALL ASSETS OF HENDRICKS & CROFT PENDING INVESTIGATION INTO CROSS-BORDER MONEY LAUNDERING AND ATTEMPTED HOMICIDE.*
Hendricks dropped the phone. It hit the glass table with a dull thud.
“The Cayman accounts are frozen, Paul,” I whispered. “The Swiss bank rejected the transfer fifteen minutes ago on suspicion of fraud. You aren't getting twenty percent. You’re getting twenty-five years at ADX Florence.”
Hendricks sank into his leather executive chair, looking entirely shriveled. “She promised... she swore she had the medical examiner in her pocket. She swore Jonathan’s death would look like natural heart failure.”
“Where is she, Paul?”
Hendricks looked up at me, his eyes wide with desperate self-preservation. “If I tell you... will you speak to the prosecutor? Will you recommend leniency?”
“I am an officer of the court, Paul,” I replied smoothly. “I only recommend justice. Where is she?”
He trembled, his voice barely audible.
May you like
“Teterboro Airport. Hangar 4. She leaves for Zurich at 8:30.”
***
