Chapter 7 - THE FALSE LEDGER
The cartel leader’s gun remained pressed firmly against Preston’s temple. Preston was sobbing, his clothes soaked from the steam, a pathetic, shivering mess in the rain.
"I gave you the codes!" Preston cried out to the leader. "I told you where they were going! Let me go!"
Caroline stood up, her fists clenched. "You sold us out to them? After you opened the valve?"
"I had to!" Preston wailed. "They were going to boil me alive!"
The leader laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He tossed a heavy, ruggedized tablet onto the wet asphalt at Arthur’s feet.
"Log in, Mr. Vance," the leader ordered. "The offshore accounts. Transfer the remaining bearer bonds to the wallet address on the screen. Do it, or your son-in-law dies."
Arthur looked at the tablet, then up at the man. "I can't. Richard Hale initiated a lock-out protocol when he triggered the transfers. It takes dual authentication to reverse it. My thumbprint and Caroline’s."
The leader gestured with his gun. "Then both of you, get on your knees and unlock it."
Arthur slowly lowered himself to the ground. Caroline knelt beside him.
I stood frozen next to Owen. My hand gripped the silver rosary in my pocket. The gun I held was out of bullets; I had emptied the clip shooting the lock in the tunnel. We had nothing left.
As Arthur picked up the tablet, he looked at Caroline. A silent communication passed between father and daughter.
Arthur pressed his thumb to the screen. Caroline did the same.
The tablet beeped.
The leader smiled, stepping forward to look at the screen. "Good. Now initiate the—"
"Wait," Owen interrupted, his voice sharp and clear over the rain.
The leader paused, glaring at Owen. "Shut up."
"You want the money from the Mexican subsidiaries, right?" Owen asked, stepping directly in front of the leader. "The ghost accounts Hale set up to pay your militia?"
"I said shut up," the leader growled, pressing the gun harder into Preston’s skull.
"Clara," Owen said, not taking his eyes off the cartel boss. "Do you have it?"
I blinked, confused. "Have what?"
"Your father’s ledger. The one you found hidden in his files."
My heart hammered against my ribs. The ledger. I had brought it with me tonight to confront Arthur. It was stuffed in the inside pocket of my uniform jacket.
"Yes," I said, pulling the small, black leather book out.
"Throw it to him," Owen ordered.
I didn't question it. I tossed the ledger. It landed on the wet asphalt near the leader’s boots.
"What is this game?" the leader demanded.
"It’s not a game," Owen said smoothly. "That ledger contains the original routing numbers for the cartel slush funds. If my father transfers the money on that tablet, it goes through the corporate servers. The FBI will flag it before it ever reaches your wallet."
The leader’s eyes narrowed.
"But," Owen continued, "if you use the ghost accounts in that ledger, the money moves completely untraceably. No corporate server. No FBI."
The leader looked at the black book on the ground. Greed warred with suspicion on his face. Slowly, he took his gun away from Preston’s head and bent down to pick up the ledger.
He flipped it open, shining a small penlight onto the pages.
"These are old access codes," the leader muttered, squinting at the handwriting.
"They still work," I lied, catching on to Owen's bluff. "My father encrypted them with a secondary cipher. You have to read the margins."
The leader leaned closer to the book, fully distracted for two crucial seconds.
That was all Owen needed.
Owen lunged forward, closing the distance instantly. He grabbed the leader’s wrist, twisting it violently upward. The gun fired into the air, a deafening crack in the narrow alley.
Owen drove his knee into the man’s chest, sending them both crashing to the wet pavement.
The cartel boss was bigger, but Owen fought with the feral, desperate rage of a man who had spent five years locked in a cage. He wrenched the gun free and struck the leader across the jaw with the heavy steel grip.
The man went limp.
Owen scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, the gun trained on the unconscious cartel boss.
"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, rushing to his son.
"I'm fine," Owen panted. He looked at me, a wild, triumphant grin breaking across his face. "Your dad was a genius, Clara."
"He was," I said, picking up the soaked ledger.
But the victory was cut short by the wail of approaching sirens. Red and blue lights flashed at the end of the alley. Dallas Police SWAT vehicles swarmed the street, cutting off our exit.
"Put the weapon down!" a voice echoed through a megaphone. "Hands in the air!"
Owen slowly lowered the gun and raised his hands. Arthur and Caroline did the same.
I let out a breath, feeling the tension finally leave my body. It was over. The police were here. We were safe.
I turned around to check on Preston, who was still cowering by the brick wall.
But Preston wasn't cowering anymore.
He had picked up the gun I had discarded in the tunnel. He was pointing it directly at Arthur Vance’s back.
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"I'm not going to prison, Arthur," Preston whispered, his eyes wide with manic desperation. "If you're dead, Caroline inherits everything. Spousal privilege protects me."
He pulled the trigger.
