Chapter 55 - The Visitor in the Shadows
"Name your terms, Castille," I said, my gaze locking with Miller, who immediately began tracing the signal.
"Terms are for negotiations, Mr. Harrington. This is a collection," Julian Castille replied smoothly. "Your father stole fifty million francs in 1978, backed by assets that generated hundreds of millions in untaxed revenue. With interest, penalties, and the liquidation fee triggered by your recent bankruptcy maneuvers, your family’s obligation stands at four hundred and eighty million dollars."
"That's absurd," I said cold-bloodedly. "Marcus is dead. The corporate entity is dissolved. In any court on earth, your claim is barred by the statute of limitations."
"Do you honestly believe we operate within your provincial American courts?" Julian’s voice turned silky, venomous. "Marcus knew our rules. He carved his oath into that ledger with his own blood. If you refuse the debt of the father, the debt transfers to the son. And if the son refuses... it falls upon the grandson."
My hand crushed the coffee cup so hard the porcelain creaked. Emily went completely rigid beside me, her eyes widening with lethal protectiveness.
"If you come anywhere near my son," I whispered, the words dropping like lead weights, "you won't live to see a single cent of that money."
"Such fire," Julian murmured. "Marcus had none of that courage; he was merely a rat who knew how to hoard grain. Let us test your resolve. Tonight, nine o'clock. The abandoned dry dock at the old Charlestown Navy Yard. Come alone, Brian. Bring the ledger and the pocket watch. If my scouts see a single security convoy within five blocks, your wife and child will find out how fragile your estate’s perimeter truly is."
The line went dead.
Miller shook his head within seconds. "Burner routing through three satellite hops in Zurich. Untraceable."
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"He wants the original documents," Emily said, her sharp analytical mind cutting through the fear. "Why would a man claiming a half-billion-dollar debt care about an old paper journal and a pocket watch?"
I stared at the antique gold watch resting on the table. "Because the money isn't the primary objective. Marcus hid something in that transaction that could ruin Castille—or prove that the debt was already settled."
