Chapter 7 - THE PRIVATE JET TRAPGrant believed possession meant control.
That mistake was about to strand him twice in three days.
By the time our car turned toward the private aviation terminal, Marcus had contacted airport security, Calder Aviation operations and federal counsel.
“Do not confront him,” Marcus said.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I heard you.”
“You’re doing the thing where you say you heard me but clearly intend to ignore me.”
I looked at him.
“My father hired you because you were annoying, didn’t he?”
“He considered it a core competency.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
The Gulfstream sat near Hangar Four, fueled and ready.
A black SUV was parked beside it.
Grant stood near the stairs.
Evelyn Whitmore sat inside the SUV wearing enormous sunglasses despite the approaching sunset.
Andrew Pike was nowhere in sight.
I stepped out.
Grant saw me immediately.
His face hardened.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is company business.”
“No.”
I glanced at the aircraft.
“This is my airplane.”
He walked toward me.
“We’re flying to Nassau for meetings.”
“Who is we?”
He ignored the question.
“I have authorization to use this aircraft.”
“From whom?”
“You.”
“No.”
“Our standing agreement.”
“Revoked.”
His face changed.
“You can’t revoke it without notice.”
“I gave you notice in Scottsdale.”
“That was emotional nonsense.”
The captain descended the stairs.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes?”
“We were told the flight is canceled.”
Grant spun around.
“By whom?”
The captain looked uncomfortable.
“The owner.”
I smiled.
Grant pointed toward me.
“She is not authorized to interfere with an existing company itinerary.”
The captain looked from him to me.
Then wisely stepped backward.
I held up my phone.
“Calder Aviation Holdings owns the aircraft. Calder Aviation Holdings is owned by my trust. You have no flight authority.”
Evelyn finally exited the SUV.
Even at sixty-eight, she possessed the theatrical elegance of a woman accustomed to making waiters nervous.
“Claire.”
“Evelyn.”
“This is unnecessary.”
“Running to Nassau?”
“Business meeting.”
“With Andrew Pike?”
Her expression didn’t change.
That woman was better than her son.
“Who?”
I smiled.
“Good try.”
Grant stepped closer.
“You’re making a serious mistake.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“If you interfere with the Rearden transaction, Whitmore Dynamics could collapse.”
“Then cancel the transaction.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand Rearden is controlled by your family trust.”
His eyes moved toward Evelyn.
There.
Confirmation.
Evelyn removed her sunglasses.
“You should be very careful making defamatory accusations.”
“Would you prefer I call it self-dealing?”
“Rearden is a valuable company.”
“Worth seventy million at best.”
“Your opinion.”
“Independent valuation.”
That was a bluff.
For now.
Her slight hesitation told me it worked.
Grant lowered his voice.
“Claire, come home.”
“No.”
“We can fix this.”
“No.”
“Do you really want the entire world knowing your marriage failed?”
There it was.
Image.
Reputation.
The great Whitmore obsession.
“Grant, the world doesn’t care about our marriage nearly as much as you think.”
“You will.”
“What does that mean?”
His smile returned.
“I know things about your father.”
I felt my spine stiffen.
Evelyn watched me carefully.
“What things?”
Grant took another step.
“The Calder empire isn’t as clean as you think.”
Marcus moved beside me.
“Grant, I’d advise against attempting extortion in front of counsel.”
Grant laughed.
“Extortion?”
“Threatening reputational damage to influence Mrs. Whitmore’s legal actions.”
“I’m talking to my wife.”
“Not for much longer,” I said.
That landed.
His smile vanished.
“You filed?”
“This afternoon.”
For the first time, Grant looked genuinely stunned.
“You filed for divorce?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t discuss it with me.”
I stared at him.
“The forged forty-million-dollar guarantee was our discussion.”
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
Not grief.
Annoyance.
Grant turned toward his mother.
“This is fine.”
She looked at him as if he were five years old.
“No, Grant. It very clearly is not.”
Movement near the hangar caught my eye.
Two airport-security vehicles.
Then three black government SUVs.
Grant saw them.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing they weren’t already interested in.”
The vehicles stopped.
Several officials emerged.
Marcus quietly explained that financial-crimes investigators had obtained enough documentation from First Continental to interview Grant, Evelyn and Andrew regarding suspected bank fraud.
Not arrest.
Not yet.
But close enough.
Grant stared at me.
“You called the government on your own husband?”
“No.”
That was true.
“First Continental did.”
This morning, the bank had suspended Paul Denton.
By noon, Denton had hired counsel.
By three, apparently, he had decided loyalty was overrated.
Grant looked toward the terminal.
Then toward the aircraft.
Trapped.
“Where’s Andrew?” I asked.
Grant said nothing.
One investigator approached.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
Grant’s lawyer instincts finally arrived.
“I’m not answering questions.”
“You’re not required to.”
The official turned toward Evelyn.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Same answer.”
Then he looked at me.
“Mrs. Calder Whitmore?”
Grant’s head snapped around.
“Yes?”
“We may need a statement regarding the disputed guarantee.”
“My attorney will coordinate.”
“Thank you.”
As investigators separated Grant and Evelyn for voluntary interviews, I noticed something unusual.
Grant wasn’t frightened.
Angry, yes.
But not frightened.
If anything, he looked relieved.
Why?
Then I realized.
Andrew wasn’t there.
The manifest had been filed with his name.
But nobody had actually seen him board.
The flight was bait.
Or Grant had planned to meet him in Nassau.
I called Thomas.
“Where is Andrew?”
“We’re looking.”
“Look faster.”
“Why?”
“Because Grant isn’t scared.”
A pause.
“That scares you?”
“It should scare all of us.”
Twenty minutes later, Thomas called back.
“You were right.”
“Where is he?”
“Andrew accessed Whitmore Dynamics remotely twelve minutes ago.”
“From where?”
“Denver.”
My heart stopped.
Calder Capital’s original headquarters.
We still maintained offices there.
More importantly, the company’s backup archive was housed in a secure facility outside Denver.
“What did he access?”
“Not Whitmore records.”
“What?”
“He used Grant’s credentials to access a Calder integration server.”
“How does Grant have access?”
“He shouldn’t.”
Unless Andrew had created it.
I called Melanie.
She answered immediately.
“Check the Denver archive.”
“What am I checking?”
“Remote access.”
Keys clicked.
Then silence.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“Someone initiated a data purge.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“Historical trust records. Audit material. Authentication logs.”
Grant wasn’t running.
He was destroying evidence.
“Stop it.”
“I’m trying.”
Another pause.
“The purge is tied to a physical terminal.”
“Where?”
“Archive facility.”
Andrew was inside.
I turned to Marcus.
“We need Denver police at the Calder archive.”
He was already calling.
Melanie shouted through the phone.
“Claire!”
“What?”
“The purge stopped.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Then another voice appeared in the background.
A man.
Distant.
Melanie’s colleague.
“Security alert! Fire suppression!”
“What’s happening?”
Melanie returned.
“Smoke detected in the server room.”
Andrew wasn’t just deleting evidence.
He was burning it.
I looked across the tarmac.
Grant had been watching me.
And when our eyes met, he smiled.
That was when I knew.
This wasn’t Andrew acting alone.
Grant expected the fire.
I walked toward him.
Marcus tried to stop me.
I ignored him.
“What did you do?”
Grant looked innocent.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Denver archive.”
For the first time that evening, Grant’s smile became real.
“You should have listened when I told you I knew where things were buried.”
I stepped closer.
“You think destroying files saves you?”
“I think old buildings have electrical problems.”
I stared at him.
Then my phone rang.
Denver number.
I answered.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes?”
“This is Denver Fire Department. We have an incident at your corporate archive.”
“Is everyone safe?”
“So far. But there’s something unusual.”
“What?”
“The fire was contained almost immediately.”
Relief.
“And?”
“Our crew found a man unconscious near the server room.”
Andrew.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Grant’s smile disappeared.
Then the firefighter said one more thing.
“He was carrying a backpack containing several passports, cash…”
A pause.
“…and what appears to be a large quantity of original financial documents.”
Grant went pale.
May you like
His plan to destroy the evidence had failed.
And Andrew Pike had been caught carrying it.
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