Chapter 8 - The Serpent’s Ledger
By noon, Marcus arrived at the brownstone, flanked by two armed private security guards who took positions at the front stoop and the garden gate.
The dining table was transformed into a command center. Printouts of bank routings, SWIFT transfer receipts, and digital communication logs lay scattered across the polished mahogany. Marcus looked uncharacteristically weary; the collar of his shirt was undone, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
"We have to be surgical, Claire," Marcus began without preamble, tracing his pen over an encrypted chat transcript Helen’s private investigator had scraped from Andrew’s secondary laptop. "Andrew was paranoid, but he wasn't completely stupid. He used burner phones and encrypted signal relays. But we found something in his cloud backups from four years ago."
I placed Hope in her bassinet beside the table and leaned over the documents. "Show me."
Marcus pointed to a string of alphanumeric codes. "This is a safety deposit registration. Key number 408, Manhattan Central Vault. It’s held under the name of 'David Sterling'—Andrew’s deceased brother."
"Andrew always kept keepsakes under David’s name," I murmured, recalling the sentimental facade he had built during our courtship. He had told me he revered his late brother’s memory. It had all been an alibi. A fortress of lies.
"According to bank protocol," Marcus explained, "access requires a physical key, a secondary alphanumeric code, and a biometric voiceprint. When Andrew was booked at the Metropolitan Detention Center, his personal effects were cataloged. The physical key was in the lining of his wallet. It’s currently in federal evidence."
"Which means we can’t touch it without tipping off his defense team," Helen noted.
"Not necessarily," I said, a cold calculation steadying my racing pulse. "Andrew’s defense attorney, Robert Vance-Sloane, is Arthur Vance’s personal fixer. If Natalie is being hung out to dry, Vance-Sloane’s priority is making sure nothing connects Arthur to Andrew’s dirt. If we offer Vance-Sloane a clean break for the Vance family, he’ll hand over Andrew’s personal inventory like dirty laundry."
Marcus stared at me, a glimmer of profound respect in his dark eyes. "You’re offering Arthur an out?"
"I’m offering Arthur the illusion of safety," I countered. "The moment that box is open and we find the synthetic peptide purchase records, Arthur will have to choose between going down as an accomplice to murder or testifying for the state. A billionaire like Arthur Vance will sacrifice his own daughter to stay out of a federal penitentiary—he’ll certainly sacrifice Andrew."
My phone rang. The screen displayed Marcus’s legal clerk.
Marcus picked it up, hit speaker, and listened for ten seconds. His jaw clamped tight.
"What is it?" I asked.
May you like
"Natalie Vance just posted bail," Marcus said, hanging up. "Five million dollars cash, posted through an obscure private trust. And thirty minutes ago, someone attempted to access the Manhattan Central Vault with an emergency power of attorney."
***
