Chapter 6 - The Seattle Club
The Seattle Club was an exclusive, hundred-year-old sanctuary of dark oak paneling, velvet armchairs, and brass chandeliers where the city’s oldest money gathered to conduct business away from the eyes of the public.
At 1:15 PM, the front brass doors were pushed open.
I walked into the main dining room flanked by Marcus and four of my highest-ranking enforcement operatives. The quiet chatter of silver utensils against porcelain plates vanished instantly as thirty of Seattle’s most powerful executives, judges, and politicians turned to look at us.
The club’s maître d’ hurried forward, his face pale with anxiety. “Mr. Vance! Sir, you know firearms and security teams are strictly prohibited in the main dining area—”
Marcus didn't even look at him; he simply placed a massive hand against the man’s chest and set him gently but firmly aside.
I walked straight toward the private corner booth near the high arched windows overlooking 5th Avenue.
Richard Hayes was sitting at the head of a mahogany table, holding a glass of aged Pinot Noir, laughing heartily with three men in expensive charcoal suits. He looked impeccably groomed, wearing his signature gold wire-rimmed glasses and a tailored tweed jacket.
When he looked up and saw me standing at the edge of his table, his laugh caught in his throat. His face drained of all color in a fraction of a second.
“Julian...” Hayes stammered, his glass trembling in his grip. “What... what a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you were dining here today.”
I didn't answer. I reached out, grabbed the back of an empty leather dining chair, pulled it out, and sat down directly across from him. My men stepped into position around the perimeter of the booth, blocking the view from the rest of the dining room.
The three investors sitting with Hayes looked around nervously, sensing the sudden, suffocating danger radiating from my presence.
“Gentlemen,” I said smoothly, looking at the three investors. “I suggest you leave. Right now.”
The three men didn't hesitate. They stood up, grabbed their coats, and practically sprinted toward the main exit of the dining room.
Hayes tried to stand as well. “Julian, whatever this is, we can discuss it at the office—”
Marcus reached down, placed a heavy hand onto Hayes’s shoulder, and slammed him back into his seat with crushing force.
“Sit down, Richard,” I said softly, resting my forearms on the white linen tablecloth.
Hayes swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers. “Julian, this is absurd! You’re making a scene in front of the entire city establishment! If this is about the harbor acquisition audit—”
I pulled the faded blue tin box from beneath my coat and set it squarely in the center of the table between us.
Hayes’s eyes landed on the blue box, and his entire body went completely rigid. The color didn't just leave his face; he looked as if he were about to vomit onto the tablecloth.
“Do you recognize this, Richard?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I... I don't know what that is,” he lied, his voice pitchy and thin.
“It belonged to Claire,” I said, leaning forward until I was inches from his face. “The woman you threatened five years ago. The woman you paid Victor Sterling to poison for the last six months.”
Hayes’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
“I caught your assassin in her apartment two hours ago,” I continued, my voice cold enough to freeze water. “He gave us the accounts, Richard. Aegis Holdings. The wire transfers from your offshore account in Grand Cayman. Every single transaction paying for her slow murder.”
“Julian, please!” Hayes begged, his voice breaking into a whimpering whisper as tears of sheer panic filled his eyes. “You don't understand! Sterling had leverage on me! He found out about the embezzlement I did eight years ago! He threatened to ruin me if I didn't help him keep track of her!”
“You put three five-year-old girls in danger,” I said, my pulse remaining completely steady. “My daughters.”
Hayes gasped, his eyes widening in pure horror. “Daughters? I... I didn't know about children, Julian! I swear to God, Sterling told me she was alone! I never would have agreed to hurt children!”
“You sold out my family for money and fear,” I said, standing up from the table.
I nodded to Marcus.
Marcus stepped forward, pulled a silent, encrypted digital tablet from his coat, and laid it in front of Hayes. On the screen was a live video feed of Hayes’s private residence in Bellevue, where four of my operatives were currently standing in his driveway alongside two officers from the FBI’s financial crimes division.
“You’re going to sign over every asset, every account, and every shell company registered under your name to the Vance Trust,” I instructed Hayes flatly. “Then you are going to walk out those doors, hand yourself over to the federal agents waiting outside, and confess to twenty years of corporate fraud, extortion, and conspiracy to commit murder.”
Hayes looked up at me, sobbing silently. “And if I refuse?”
I leaned down, pressing my face close to his ear so only he could hear my final words.
“If you refuse, Richard,” I whispered, “I won't let the law touch you. I’ll turn you over to Gabe at Pier 54. And you will discover what happens when a father decides to protect his children.”
Hayes looked at the tablet, his hand shaking so violently he could barely hold the digital stylus. With broken breath, he pressed his signature onto the screen, signing away his entire life, his fortune, and his freedom.
May you like
I picked up the blue box, tucked it back under my arm, and turned my back on him.
“Marcus,” I said as we walked toward the exit of the Seattle Club. “Inform Dr. Mercer at St. Catherine’s that the source of Claire’s toxin has been eliminated. And tell my driver we’re going to Tacoma. It’s time to pay Victor Sterling a visit.”
