Chapter 6 - THE CORNERED RAT
While Joanne was recovering in luxury, Arthur Vance was living a nightmare.
Released on a half-million-dollar bail pending his federal trial, Arthur was confined to his sprawling estate in the suburbs of Houston. His bank accounts were frozen, his passport was confiscated, and his former high-society friends refused to take his phone calls.
Inside his dimly lit study, Arthur paced like a caged animal. Empty bourbon bottles littered his desk.
The front gates of his mansion were surrounded by news vans and photojournalists eager to catch a glimpse of the disgraced tycoon. The headlines were brutal: “TYCOON EMBEZZLED MILLIONS, FRAMED SICK LINE COOK.”
His burner phone rang on the desk. Arthur snatched it up instantly.
“Hello?” he barked.
“Arthur, it’s Richard,” a nervous, panicked voice whimpered on the line. Richard Sterling was calling from his attorney’s office. “The feds just served me with another subpoena. They know about the secondary bank accounts in the Cayman Islands! They’re offering me a plea deal if I testify directly against you!”
“You keep your mouth shut, Richard!” Arthur hissed into the receiver, sweat dripping down his neck. “If you cooperate with Mason, I’ll make sure you never work in this country again!”
“With what money, Arthur?” Richard fired back bitterly. “You’re broke! Mason froze everything! You can't even pay your criminal defense lawyers! I’m taking the plea deal!”
Click. The line went dead.
Arthur threw the phone against the wall, smashing it into a dozen plastic pieces. “Traitors! Every single one of them!”
He sank into his leather desk chair, breathing heavily. He had spent his entire life building status, power, and wealth. Now, a thirteen-year-old street kid and a low-level cook had brought his entire world crashing down in less than seventy-two hours.
A dark, desperate thought began to take root in Arthur’s mind.
If Joanne Parker testified at his upcoming federal trial, her testimony—combined with the double invoices she had documented—would seal his conviction. The jury would see a helpless mother almost killed by corporate greed. He would spend the rest of his natural life in a federal penitentiary.
“No,” Arthur whispered to himself, his eyes widening with unhinged malice. “If she doesn't testify... the prosecution’s case relies entirely on circumstantial financial logs. Without her eyewitness account of the early warnings, my lawyers can argue Richard acted alone.”
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pushing aside stacks of legal documents until his hand touched the cool, heavy steel of a licensed snub-nosed revolver.
Arthur picked up the weapon, checking the cylinder. Six rounds.
He pulled a fresh burner phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number he hadn't called in years—a contact connected to the shady underworld of his former offshore business dealings.
“I need a favor,” Arthur whispered into the phone, his voice shaking with desperation. “A heavy favor. At St. Luke’s Medical Center in San Antonio.”
“That costs real money, Arthur,” a raspy voice replied. “Clean cash.”
“I have $100,000 in bearer bonds hidden in my home safe,” Arthur promised, clutching the gun tight. “I’ll give you half now, half when Joanne Parker is permanently silenced.”
There was a long pause on the line. “Send the room details. It will be handled tonight.”
Arthur hung up the phone, letting out a long, ragged sigh. He poured himself another glass of bourbon, convinced that he had just bought his salvation.
He didn't realize that Eleanor Vance’s private investigators had been monitoring his home network and telephone lines twenty-four hours a day.
Two miles away, inside a surveillance van parked near Arthur’s estate, an intelligence specialist tapped his headset and looked at his supervisor.
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“Boss, we just intercepted an encrypted call from Arthur’s location,” the specialist reported urgently. “He just placed a hit on Joanne Parker at St. Luke’s Hospital.”
The supervisor snapped his laptop shut. “Patch me through to Mason Vance immediately. And call the San Antonio Police SWAT unit!”
