Chapter 7 - The Shadows of Vanguard
The immediate crisis was over, but in the world of high finance and corporate crime, the immediate crisis is only the tip of the iceberg.
Three days later.
I sat in the executive suite of Vance Capital on the 45th floor of my Manhattan skyscraper. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the city stretched out below in a sea of autumn sunlight.
On my desk lay a thick, leather-bound briefing document prepared by my private intelligence team.
Viktor knocked softly on the heavy mahogany door and stepped into the office. "Mr. Vance. The medical team at Johns Hopkins just updated us on Clara’s status."
I looked up, setting my pen down. "How is she?"
"She came out of her second surgery an hour ago," Viktor reported, a rare smile appearing on his usually stoic face. "The spinal swelling has completely subsided. The doctors say she will make a full recovery. No permanent paralysis."
I let out a long breath I felt like I’d been holding for seventy-two hours. "And Lily?"
"She’s currently staying in the VIP wing of the hospital under twenty-four-hour guard. Our team brought her a giant teddy bear and an iPad. She thinks she’s at a five-star hotel."
"Good," I said. "Keep four men on that floor until this entire network is dismantled."
Viktor’s smile vanished, his professional demeanor returning instantly. "You think there’s more?"
I tossed the leather-bound file across the desk toward him. "Read page fourteen. Richard wasn't acting alone."
Viktor picked up the document and skimmed the highlighted lines. His brow furrowed. "Vanguard Pharmaceuticals was receiving funding from a offshore shell company based in the Cayman Islands... Aegis Holdings?"
"Aegis Holdings is a front," I explained, leaning back in my leather chair. "It's controlled by Julian Croft."
Viktor froze. The name hung in the air like a poisonous fog.
Julian Croft was a billionaire hedge-fund manager, a man who moved in the highest political circles in Washington, and my bitterest rival for over a decade. He was a man who operated entirely in the shadows, using bankrupt companies to launder money and ruin entire industries for profit.
"Croft was the one shorting Vanguard's stock," I continued, pointing at the financial charts on my screen. "He knew Richard’s cancer drug was a fraud from day one. He set Richard up to sell the company to me. If I bought Vanguard for three hundred million, Croft’s short positions would have cleared him over two billion dollars in profit when the fraud was eventually exposed six months later."
"And your death?" Viktor asked, his eyes darkening.
"My death was the catalyst," I said coldly. "If I died at the banquet, my estate’s automatic execution clauses would have transferred the money without my personal audit team checking the lab files. I was supposed to be the fall guy, dead in a grave while Croft collected two billion dollars and left my company holding the toxic bag."
"Does the FBI know about Croft’s involvement?"
"Not yet," I replied. "Croft’s paper trail is protected by seven layers of international banking secrecy. The FBI can arrest Richard and Marcus, but Croft will walk away scot-free, ready to destroy the next target."
"So what do we do, boss?"
May you like
I stood up, walked to the window, and looked out over the skyline.
"We don't wait for the government, Viktor," I said softly. "Julian Croft tried to kill me, he tried to murder an innocent mother, and he terrified a eight-year-old child. It’s time we pay Mr. Croft a personal visit."
