Chapter 7 - A Trap Laid in Broad Daylight
By dawn, the news of the "incident" at the Bakersfield facility had reached the executive floor, though Julian Vance and Donald Sterling pretended it was nothing more than an unfortunate technical glitch caused by an aging electrical grid.
Taylor sat in Victor’s private office, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot black tea. Aside from mild chills, she was completely unharmed, her determination burning hotter than ever.
"The sheriff’s department found bolt cutters and heavy chains discarded behind the loading dock," Victor said, pacing the room like a caged panther. "The security footage from that wing was mysteriously wiped ten minutes before we arrived. Sterling is covering his tracks."
"They're getting desperate," Taylor said, setting her cup down. "Which means we're close to the nerve center. Donald Sterling wouldn't dare risk a murder charge over a simple $1.4 million freight scam. There’s something much bigger hiding in the books."
Victor stopped pacing and looked at her. "What do you suspect?"
"I spent the drive back analyzing the company’s capital acquisition logs from the past three years. Every time Anderson Harvest bought out an independent family farm in the Central Valley, the transaction was brokered through a private equity group called Apex Heritage Capital."
Victor’s eyes narrowed. "Apex Heritage was brought in by Julian Vance. He claimed they secured preferential land valuations for us."
"They did the exact opposite," Taylor revealed, opening a new spreadsheet. "Apex purchased the farmlands from distressed family farmers at rock-bottom prices, then resold those same parcels to Anderson Harvest at a three-hundred percent markup! Over the last thirty-six months, Anderson Harvest overpaid by nearly forty-five million dollars."
Victor took a sharp breath, the sheer magnitude of the theft settling in. "Forty-five million... That money was drained directly from our cash reserves. It’s why our operating margins collapsed. It’s why my father was under so much financial stress before he died."
"And who owns Apex Heritage Capital?" Taylor asked rhetorically. "I ran the offshore registration through a cross-border corporate registry in the Cayman Islands. Fifty percent is held in a blind trust controlled by Julian Vance. And the other fifty percent belongs to someone named 'E. Anderson.'"
Victor’s face went completely pale. "E. Anderson... Evelyn."
"Who is Evelyn?" Taylor asked.
"My stepmother," Victor said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "My father married her five years ago. After he passed, she inherited eighteen percent of the non-voting shares. She’s been living in Santa Barbara, claiming she wanted nothing to do with the business."
Before Taylor could respond, the office door swung open without a knock.
Julian Vance walked in, flanked by two armed private security guards and a grim-faced woman holding a legal brief.
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"Victor, we have a grave situation," Vance announced, his voice dripping with false concern. "Internal IT just detected an unauthorized breach of our offshore acquisition accounts. An encrypted packet of proprietary trade secrets was uploaded to an external server fifteen minutes ago from this very IP address."
Vance pointed a trembling finger directly at Taylor. "Miss Nelson, you are under arrest for corporate espionage and grand theft. Step away from the computer."
