Chapter 8 - The Shadow LedgerIf you want to kill a king—or in this case, a queen—you don't attack the castle walls. You poison the well.
Elias was the best private investigator and corporate espionage expert on the West Coast. He was an ex-military intelligence operative who operated entirely in the gray areas of the law. I had hired him during the initial investigation into Vanessa, and he was the one who had discovered the amphetamines in her purse.
Within two hours of Eleanor’s departure, Elias was sitting in my living room, hacking into the public financial records of Mercer Global Holdings.
"Eleanor Mercer is a fortress, David," Elias grunted, projecting a web of offshore accounts onto my television screen. "She doesn't leave fingerprints. Mercer Global is essentially a massive washing machine for old-money tax evasion, shell corporations, and unregulated foreign investments. But she’s paranoid. She doesn't digitize the master ledger of her illegal operations. She keeps it on an autonomous, physical server."
"Where?" I demanded.
"That’s the problem," Elias sighed. "I can't find it. But I guarantee you someone knows where it is. A fail-safe. If we find that ledger, we can hand it to the SEC and the FBI. It would trigger an automatic federal freeze on all of Mercer Global’s assets, including the fraudulent debt they hold on this house."
I stared at the screen. I needed someone inside the Mercer family. Someone who knew Eleanor’s secrets. Someone who was currently desperate, broken, and completely vulnerable.
I looked at Sarah. "Where is Colin currently serving his sentence?"
"FCI Terminal Island," Sarah replied, checking her files. "Low-to-medium security facility in San Pedro."
"Get me a visitor’s pass for tomorrow morning," I said, grabbing my car keys. "I’m going to go visit my brother-in-law."
FCI Terminal Island was a bleak, concrete monolith surrounded by razor wire and the freezing winds of the Pacific. It was a place designed to break the spirits of white-collar criminals who thought they were untouchable.
I sat in the sterile, fluorescent-lit visitor's room, separated by a thick pane of smudged plexiglass.
The heavy steel door buzzed, and a guard escorted Colin Mercer into the room.
The immaculate, arrogant lawyer who had sat in my dining room and tried to steal my daughter’s future was completely gone. Colin was wearing an oversized, faded khaki jumpsuit. He had lost at least twenty pounds. He had a dark, purple bruise over his left eye, and his lip was split. He looked terrified, exhausted, and utterly broken.
He sat down on the metal stool, his hands shaking as he picked up the phone receiver.
I picked up mine. I didn't speak. I let the silence crush him.
"Did you come to gloat, David?" Colin whispered, his voice cracking. "Because if you did, you can save it. I’m already living in hell."
"Who did that to your face, Colin?" I asked coldly.
Colin flinched, looking over his shoulder. "My mother," he choked out. "She cut me off. She refused to pay for private protection on the inside. She told the guards to look the other way. I owe money to the wrong people in here, David. If I don't pay them by Friday, they’re going to kill me."
Perfect. Eleanor had isolated him, punishing him for embarrassing the family. She had handed me the exact leverage I needed.
"I can transfer fifty thousand dollars into your commissary account today," I said smoothly. "I can buy you protection from the best crew in this prison. I can make sure nobody touches you for the next fifteen years."
Colin’s eyes went wide with desperate, pathetic hope. "Why... why would you do that?"
"Because your mother just bought the fraudulent debt Vanessa forged on my house," I stated, staring dead into his hollow eyes. "She’s trying to render me homeless and take custody of Nora. I need to stop her. And you are going to tell me exactly where she keeps the master shadow ledger for Mercer Global."
Colin’s face went dead white. "No. No, David, you don't understand. If I give you that, she won't just let me get beaten up. She will have me murdered in my sleep."
"Colin, look at me," I commanded, my voice echoing with absolute authority. "If you don't give me that location right now, I will walk out that door. And when I do, I will personally call the men you owe money to, and I will pay them double to make sure your death is agonizingly slow. You are choosing your executioner today. Make the smart choice."
Colin began to weep silently, pressing his forehead against the plexiglass. The sociopath was finally experiencing the terror he had tried to inflict on my six-year-old daughter.
"It’s not in an office," Colin sobbed, his breath fogging the glass. "It’s in her private residence in Bel Air. Hidden behind the wine cellar. It’s an offline, biometric server. You need her fingerprint to access it."
I smiled. A cold, victorious expression.
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"Thank you, Colin," I said, standing up. "Enjoy the cafeteria food."
I hung up the phone and walked away, leaving him to rot. We had the location. Now, we just needed to break into a billionaire’s fortress.
