Chapter 8 - The Vault of Sins
By 6:00 PM that evening, the federal field office at 26 Federal Plaza was glowing under fluorescent floodlights.
Boxes of seized hard drives, offshore banking ledgers, and confidential corporate minutes lined the hallway outside Interrogation Room 4.
Marcus handed me a steaming cup of black coffee as we watched through the two-way glass.
Inside, Julian sat slumped in a steel chair, his expensive tuxedo now stripped of its cufflinks and tie.
His arrogance had completely melted into sullen, exhausted panic.
"His defense attorney arrived twenty minutes ago," Marcus remarked, taking a sip from his mug.
"Arthur Pendelton, the highest-priced criminal defense attorney on the East Coast."
"Pendelton can't un-ring this bell," I replied, opening Julian’s decrypted financial ledger on my tablet.
"Look at this transfer log from July."
"Harrison used Julian's shell company, Sterling Holdings Nevis, to wire five million dollars directly to a maritime sabotage team in Panama."
"That was the exact week Dad's third container ship suffered engine contamination in the Caribbean."
Marcus leaned closer, examining the timestamped routing numbers.
"It proves premeditated economic sabotage and racketeering under the RICO statute."
The door to the hallway clicked open, and Pendelton walked out of the conference room, wiping sweat from his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief.
"Agent Vance," the attorney said, trying to maintain his suave courtroom composure.
"My clients are prepared to offer complete financial restitution to the Vance family."
"Fifty million dollars in cash to dismiss the civil damages, along with a full waiver of the outstanding notes."
"In exchange, we want the assault and RICO charges reduced to misdemeanor reckless conduct with deferred adjudication."
I let out a cold, dry chuckle that echoed down the concrete corridor.
"Do you think this is a corporate buyout negotiation, Mr. Pendelton?"
"My client is young, impetuous, and comes from a distinguished family that has contributed heavily to this state," Pendelton argued, his voice tightening.
"Your client whipped a twenty-two-year-old woman with a leather belt and bragged about turning her into domestic livestock," I countered, stepping directly into his personal space.
"And his distinguished father paid international saboteurs to cripple commercial vessels on high seas."
"The Department of Justice does not settle felony domestic torture for fifty million dollars."
Pendelton swallowed hard, realizing his usual leverage carried no weight in this room.
"What do you want, Eleanor?"
"I want twenty-five years in federal penitentiary for Julian."
"And I want Harrison Sterling’s entire maritime conglomerate seized under federal asset forfeiture."
"You'll never get that past a grand jury," Pendelton bluffed, though his voice wavered slightly.
"The grand jury returned a sixteen-count true bill forty minutes ago," Marcus said, handing the attorney a stamped legal brief.
"And the asset freeze has already begun."
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"Tell your clients to get used to prison jumpsuits, Arthur."
"Their luxury suite days are officially over."
