Chapter 13 - VICTOR’S LAST BARGAIN
Victor demanded a lawyer.
Then demanded a private room.
Then demanded Garrett.
He got the lawyer.
Not the rest.
After two days, prosecutors began presenting evidence.
Pier Nine.
The tape.
The attempted intimidation of my father.
The shell companies.
The payments to Celeste.
The archive theft.
Victor’s attorney changed strategy.
They wanted a deal.
Victor offered names.
Judges.
Executives.
Contractors.
Politicians.
People who had taken favors from Harwick interests years ago.
The investigation exploded.
Garrett hated every headline.
HARWICK EMPIRE BUILT ON SILENCE.
DEAD WORKERS AT CENTER OF OLD COVER-UP.
MAFIA-LINKED FIXER VICTOR SLOANE ARRESTED.
That last phrase followed Garrett everywhere.
Mafia-linked.
Feared businessman.
Underworld ties.
People had always spoken of Garrett like he inherited Victor’s world.
Maybe some parts he had.
But I watched what he did next.
He opened company archives voluntarily.
Removed executives named by Victor.
Created an independent review board.
Met with families of the Pier Nine victims.
No cameras.
No speeches.
He offered settlements.
Two families accepted.
One refused.
Anthony Russo’s widow looked Garrett in the face and said.
“I don’t want your money.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
She cried.
“No, you don’t.”
He answered.
“You’re right.”
That mattered.
Meanwhile, Victor requested one meeting with me.
I refused.
Then he sent a message.
ASK LAURA WHAT THOMAS DID WITH THE ORIGINAL.
I changed my mind.
We met through thick glass at the county facility.
Victor looked smaller.
Hospital bracelet on his wrist.
Still arrogant.
“What original?”
I asked.
He smiled.
“Your father’s proof.”
“We have the tape.”
“A copy.”
“The documents.”
“Copies.”
I leaned closer.
“What original?”
Victor’s eyes brightened.
“The inspection authorization.”
The signed order keeping Pier Nine operational.
With Victor’s signature.
And Garrett Sr.’s.
That document would prove direct knowledge.
Not only negligence.
Deliberate choice.
“Where is it?”
Victor smiled.
“You think I know?”
“You brought me here.”
“I know your father had it.”
“Then why didn’t you find it?”
His face hardened.
“Because Thomas was more irritating than intelligent.”
I smiled.
“Sounds like he beat you.”
Victor leaned toward the glass.
“Your father died broke.”
“You lived long enough to become afraid of his daughter.”
That wiped away his smile.
I stood.
Then he said.
“He hid it in something nobody would throw away.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Victor laughed.
“Ask your mother.”
My mother had been dead seven years.
But one thing of hers remained in my apartment.
The little maple table.
The same table we lost when my father went broke.
Or so I had believed.
My mother bought it back at the foreclosure sale years later.
She kept it until she died.
Then gave it to me.
May you like
Something nobody would throw away.
I knew exactly where the original was.
