Chapter 6 - THE AUDITOR'S SECRET
"Mason!"
I screamed until my throat tore.
I pressed the phone against my ear, desperate for any sound, any breath, any whisper.
Nothing.
Just the hollow hiss of a dead line.
"Marcus, floor it!" Julian roared, slamming his fist onto the dashboard.
The SUV accelerated with violent force, throwing me back into the seat.
We tore through red lights, rain spraying in massive white sheets from our tires.
Two minutes later, we rounded the curving exit ramp onto the Vine Street Expressway.
Flames lit up the concrete retaining walls.
A black Chevy Tahoe was wedged diagonally across the left lane, its front bumper crushed against the guardrail.
Fifty yards ahead, Mason’s silver Honda Civic lay on its side, crumpled like an aluminum soda can.
Smoke poured from the shattered engine compartment.
"Stop the car!" I yelled before the SUV had even come to a complete halt.
I threw the door open and hit the wet asphalt running.
The rain plastered my hair to my face.
The heat from the burning engine hit me in waves.
"Lily, wait!" Julian shouted behind me, his gun drawn as he scanned the highway overpass.
I didn't care about snipers.
I didn't care about bullets.
I scrambled up the slick metal hood of the overturned Civic.
The driver’s side door was crushed inward.
Through the shattered window, I saw Mason.
He was hanging upside down from his seatbelt, blood streaming down his left temple, his face covered in cuts.
His eyes were closed.
"Mason! Can you hear me?!"
I shoved my arms through the broken window, grabbing his leather jacket.
His pulse fluttered under my fingers—weak, erratic, but beating.
His eyelids fluttered open slowly.
He focused on my face through the blood in his eyes.
"Lily..." he whispered, his lips dry and cracked.
"You're... you're real."
"I'm here, baby. I'm right here."
Julian arrived beside me with a tactical pocket knife.
He reached inside, sliced through the jammed seatbelt webbing, and caught Mason’s shoulders as he fell.
Together, we hauled Mason out through the rear windshield.
Mason groaned, clutching his ribs, but his right hand remained clenched in a death grip around a small black canvas pouch.
"The drive..." Mason wheezed, pressing the pouch against my chest.
"Price's offshore accounts... Caymans, Zurich, Cyprus... it's all here."
"Shut up and breathe, Carter," Julian said, throwing Mason’s uninjured arm over his neck.
"We're getting you out of here."
Marcus fired two warning shots into the air as two armed men crawled out of the crushed Tahoe.
The men scrambled back behind their engine block, knowing they were outmatched.
We loaded Mason into the back of our SUV.
Arthur reached out and pressed a clean handkerchief against Mason’s bleeding forehead.
"Good work, son," Arthur said softly.
"I knew I hired the right man for the job."
Mason winced, looking up at the legendary billionaire he had thought was dead for three weeks.
"Mr. Calder," Mason whispered, spitting a mouthful of blood into a plastic bag.
"Charles Price has a private jet fueled at Philadelphia International."
"Departure time is 6:00 AM."
Julian looked at his wristwatch.
It was 1:45 AM.
"He's liquidating the holding company's treasury," Mason continued, his chest heaving with every ragged breath.
"He already transferred two hundred million dollars out of the operational reserves into a shell corporation in Panama."
"If he boards that jet, the Calder Group collapses."
"Seventeen thousand employees lose their pensions by Monday morning."
Julian’s face went rigid.
"He won't make that flight."
"He has the board meeting scheduled for 8:00 AM by video link," Arthur warned.
"He intends to present the forged proxy votes from international airspace."
"Once the board ratifies the transfer, the money is legally gone forever."
I looked down at the brass key in my palm, then at the black canvas pouch in my lap.
"We have the key to the vault," I said, my voice cutting through the hum of the engine.
"And we have the digital proof."
Julian looked back at me in the rearview mirror.
His eyes were cold, sharp, and resolute.
"Then we strike him at his foundation."
"The Depository opens at 7:00 AM."
"We take the original ledger, march straight into that boardroom, and dismantle Charles Price piece by piece."
Suddenly, the SUV’s tire blew with a deafening pop.
May you like
The vehicle fishtailed violently across the three lanes of highway.
---
