Chapter 12 - The Cavalry Arrives Too Late—Or Just in Time
The heavy oak doors smashed against the drywall as Arthur Vance lunged forward like a linebacker, tackling Ethan squarely around the waist. The two men crashed hard against the mahogany filing cabinet, sending stacks of financial folders flying across the polished floor in a chaotic flurry of white paper.
The heavy steel wrench slipped from Ethan’s grip, clattering loudly against the marble. Ethan thrashed wildly, striking out with his elbows and screaming obscenities, but Arthur — despite his age — held him down with the practiced grip of a man who had spent decades dealing with corporate saboteurs.
'Get off me, you old bastard!' Ethan roared, spitting blood as Arthur pinned his arm behind his back.
A second later, two private security guards rushed into the office, heavy boots sliding slightly on the wet marble before they clamped heavy steel handcuffs around Ethan’s wrists, jerking him violently to his feet.
I stood up slowly from behind my desk, straightening my blazer, my breathing slightly elevated but my composure completely intact. I walked over to where Ethan was struggling against the guards, his face bruised, his clothes soaked, looking every bit the pathetic coward he truly was.
'You really thought you could walk in here with a wrench and intimidate me, Ethan?' I asked softly, looking down at him with absolute pity and contempt. 'You truly know nothing about who you’re dealing with.'
Ethan spat a glob of blood onto the pristine white rug, glaring at me with eyes full of pure venom. 'This isn't over, Claire! Bellum Veritas won't let you win! They own the naval contracts! They own the board! You’re dead, do you hear me? Dead!'
'Take him down to the basement holding cell and lock him in until the federal marshals arrive,' I instructed the guards coldly.
Without another word, the guards dragged Ethan out of the office, his furious screaming echoing down the hallway until the heavy glass doors sealed shut once more.
Arthur stood up, brushing off his tweed jacket and adjusting his glasses, letting out a long, weary sigh. 'Well, that added some excitement to an otherwise boring Thursday night.'
'Are you alright, Arthur?' I asked, noticing a minor scrape on his hand.
'Just a scratch,' Arthur smiled faintly. 'More importantly, while Ethan was busy throwing his little tantrum, I finished decrypting those Singapore naval logs.'
He pulled a printed document from his pocket and handed it to me. I scanned the top lines, and my breath caught in my throat.
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'This is it,' I whispered. 'The exact signature of the executive who authorized the transfer of naval routing data to Bellum Veritas.'
And the signature at the bottom wasn't Ethan Cole. It belonged to someone currently sitting on our own board of directors.
