Chapter 19 - The Master’s Reply
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“You didn't do your research either,” I whispered into the quiet car.
The driver blinked, his hand twitching slightly on the steering wheel. “What?”
“You think Evan Whitmore was the target,” I said, my voice dead, level, and flat. “Evan was just the idiot standing in the hallway. I spent twenty years investigating transnational money laundering syndicates for the United States Treasury. I know the exact routing codes for the Vaduz accounts. I know who owns the shell entities in Zurich. And I know that your principal is currently sitting in a villa in Monaco thinking he’s invisible.”
I tapped my fingers twice against the driver’s door frame.
“Three minutes ago, when I walked up to your car, my secondary phone transmitted your license plate, your facial scan, and your vehicle’s telemetry directly to the Interpol Financial Crimes Directorate in Lyon.”
The driver’s face drained of color. His hands tightened around the leather wheel until his knuckles turned white.
“If you or anyone connected to your principals comes within ten miles of my daughter, my home, or my friends,” I continued softly, “I won't call the sheriff. I won't go to the local prosecutor.”
I leaned in closer.
“I will publish the master ledger for Vanguard Apex Capital directly onto the public FinCEN registry. Your bosses will lose four hundred million dollars across six continents before breakfast tomorrow morning.”
The driver stared at me in total, speechbound horror. He realized in that exact moment that he wasn't dealing with a grieving father or a retired cop.
He was dealing with the man who held the keys to his entire syndicate’s vault.
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“Drive away,” I ordered quietly. “And tell your principals that the bill for touching my family has already been paid.”
The driver didn't say a word. He threw the silver sedan into reverse, slammed his foot onto the accelerator, and sped out of the parking lot, his tires screaming against the wet pavement.
