Chapter 3 - The Wolf In The Penthouse
Adrian returned to the Mercer tower on Michigan Avenue at four o'clock, the storm clouds turning the Chicago skyline into charcoal.
The elevator opened directly into his seventy-second-floor office, where Victor Sterling stood reviewing international shipment manifests by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Did you conclude the filing, boss?" Victor asked smoothly, adjusting his tailored gray tie.
"The legal team is ready to process the Lincoln Park deed transfer as soon as the clerk stamps the final agreement."
Adrian walked slowly behind his massive walnut desk, not answering, his overcoat missing and his dress shirt soaked through with cold rain.
"Where is the original dossier you compiled on Julian Vance?" Adrian asked, his voice deceptively flat, like the surface of frozen water before a crack spreads.
Victor paused for a microsecond, his shoulders stiffening before he turned around with a practiced, neutral smile.
"Julian Vance? That's the contact from the hotel file. His dossier is in the encrypted safe, just as you ordered."
"Bring it here," Adrian said, sitting down and folding his hands across the leather blotter.
Victor walked to the hidden wall safe, entered an eight-digit code, and retrieved a thick manila folder labeled with Elena's maiden name.
He laid it down between them, tapping the cardboard edge with an index finger. "Adrian, she’s out of your life now. The Mercer family cannot afford emotional liabilities while the board is finalizing the European logistics merger."
Adrian opened the folder, flipping directly to the tax records and service IDs stapled to the interior divider.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, opened a direct satellite line to his maritime logistics contact in Washington, and placed the call on speaker.
"General Miller," Adrian spoke into the receiver. "Read me the service record for retired Captain Julian Vance, Third Battalion."
The gruff voice of the three-star general came through the speaker loud and clear.
"Julian Vance retired with full honors two months ago, Adrian. Decorated combat veteran. He was David Vance’s commanding officer during the rescue op in Kandahar. Why are you asking?"
Adrian kept his eyes fixed on Victor, whose throat bobbed as he swallowed hard in the suffocating silence.
"Did Vance ever consult for the Department of Justice or federal financial task forces?" Adrian asked calmly.
"Hell no," Miller scoffed through the line. "The man runs a youth boxing gym in Milwaukee. He’s as clean as a fresh snowfall. What is this about?"
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"A clerical error," Adrian said, ending the call with a single tap of his thumb.
He looked up at his head of security, the darkness in his gray eyes promising a reckoning worse than prison. "You fabricated the federal ties, Victor. You had someone take that angle on purpose to make an innocent reunion look like an affair."
