Chapter 6 - The Lion at the Crescent
At 12:55 p.m., Grant Holloway walked through the revolving brass doors of the Crescent Club, Dallas's most exclusive enclave of old oil money and predatory private equity.
Beneath his tailored navy Brioni suit, a microscopic audio transmitter was taped flat against his sternum, relaying every breath directly to an FBI surveillance van parked in the underground garage. In his right hand, Grant carried the heavy leather portfolio containing the counterfeit wire transfer confirmation slips created by federal forensic accountants forty minutes earlier.
He rode the private elevator to the thirty-fourth floor.
When the brass doors parted, the penthouse lounge was quiet, smelling of expensive Cuban cigars and polished cedar. Seated at a corner table overlooking the city skyline were two men: Dennis Clark, wearing a three-piece charcoal suit and sipping a dry martini, and Viktor Petrov—a man in his late fifties with cold, reptilian gray eyes and a tailored Italian blazer.
"Grant!" Dennis beamed, standing up with an expansive smile and extending a hand that Grant pointedly ignored. "You look exhausted, my friend. But that’s the burden of leadership when the ship takes on water, isn't it? Viktor was just telling me about the restructuring terms."
Grant pulled out a leather chair and sat down without an invitation. He laid the portfolio flat on the table between their crystal glasses.
Petrov leaned forward, his thin lips curling into an arrogant smirk. "You cut it very close, Mr. Holloway. My Swiss partners do not appreciate being hung up on by children. I assumed a CEO of your caliber maintained stricter discipline over his private communications."
"Desperate times make for chaotic offices, Viktor," Grant said, his voice deliberately trembling just enough to feed Petrov's towering ego. "The eighteen-point-six million is gone from my reserve. My company has less than forty-eight hours of operational cash left. If your forty-five-million-dollar credit facility doesn't clear by tomorrow morning, Holloway Systems will enter Chapter 11 bankruptcy."
Dennis Clark placed a sympathetic hand on Grant’s shoulder, his eyes gleaming with suppressed greed. "Don't worry, Grant. You made the right choice. Viktor's group has saved dozens of great American enterprises. Just like Mason Street Logistics."
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Grant slowly turned his head to look directly into Dennis’s eyes.
"Just like Mason Street, Dennis?" Grant asked softly. "Tell me... did Arthur Bell look this desperate when you helped Petrov drain his accounts too?"
