Chapter 9 - THE FILE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST|
The original audit had been destroyed, but Maya remembered its structure.
She remembered the transaction codes, the date ranges, and the unusual pattern of payments that had first drawn her attention. Most importantly, she remembered one account that appeared in every major transfer.
It belonged to a company called Meridian Harbor Trust.
The trust had no public-facing business. Its registered office was managed by a law firm that specialized in private asset structures. Its beneficiaries were not listed in the ordinary filings Maya could access.
At Halloran Whitmore, she had flagged the trust as a possible conduit for diverted funds.
The company had later claimed the transfer was legitimate.
Maya had never accepted that explanation.
Now she sat in the Kang estate's secure analysis room, comparing old notes with the transaction records James had authorized her to review.
"Here," she said.
James leaned over the table.
"The same trust appears in both systems. Halloran Whitmore paid it eleven million dollars over fourteen months. The Kang organization paid it nearly seven million."
"Could those be legitimate investments?"
"They could. But the receiving accounts were closed within days of the transfers. That's unusual."
"Who controls the trust?"
"I don't know yet."
Cross entered carrying a printed report.
"We found the source of the forged approval. The transaction was initiated through a remote access session associated with a vendor account."
"Which vendor?" James asked.
"Northstar Strategic Holdings."
Maya looked up sharply.
"That company was dissolved."
"Yes."
"Then the credentials should have been disabled."
"They were. Someone restored them using administrator privileges."
James's expression darkened.
"Who had those privileges?"
Cross placed the report on the table.
"Three accounts. Yours, Daniel Voss's, and the estate systems administrator's."
"Where is the administrator?"
"On leave for medical reasons. We haven't been able to reach him."
Maya studied the access logs.
"Look at the time of the restoration."
Cross checked.
"Tuesday, 2:11 a.m."
"Now compare it to the service corridor footage."
Cross opened the relevant clip.
The maintenance worker entered the network room at 2:08 a.m.
Three minutes later, the administrator credentials were restored.
James leaned closer.
"Can we identify the worker?"
"Not yet. The face is obscured, but the height and build match Peter Sloan."
Maya felt a chill.
"Sloan testified against me."
"Then he may be working with whoever is behind the transfers," James said.
"Or someone wants us to believe that."
James nodded.
"We verify before we accuse."
Maya examined the access log again.
A second anomaly appeared.
The administrator account had accessed a file labeled PROJECT BLACKBRIDGE.
She had never seen that name in the original audit.
"What's Blackbridge?"
Cross checked the estate archive.
"There's no project by that name in our current records."
"Then why was it accessed?"
James called the chief financial officer, who arrived twenty minutes later. He reviewed the logs and admitted that Blackbridge had once been used as an internal code name for a restructuring initiative.
The project had been discontinued three years earlier.
"Who worked on it?" Maya asked.
"Daniel Voss, two external consultants, and your predecessor's office," the CFO replied.
"Why was it discontinued?"
"The board was told the projected returns were too low."
"Was money transferred?"
The CFO hesitated.
"Some preliminary funds were allocated. I assumed they were returned."
Maya looked at James.
"Assumptions are exactly how this happened."
James nodded grimly.
They requested the archived project records.
Most of the files were missing.
One remained.
A single-page memorandum bearing the signature of James's father, Richard Kang.
The memorandum authorized the transfer of a substantial sum to Meridian Harbor Trust.
At the bottom, beneath the signature, was a handwritten instruction:
If Blackbridge fails, the responsibility must never reach James.
James stared at the page.
May you like
His father had died five years earlier.
And someone had spent years ensuring that his son would never discover what Blackbridge really was.
