Chapter 5: What Jason Believed He Had
Grace called at seven forty-five the next morning.
I was already at my desk in the Vanguard Capital offices, three floors above the Minneapolis street, the Nevada account transfer records spread across the table in front of me.
Dr.
Reyes sat across from me with a yellow legal pad covered in figures.
Phillip Strand was on the couch with his laptop open.
"Reeves sent over a document package this morning," Grace said.
"Forty-three pages.
I'm looking at it now."
"What is it?"
"It's a claim that the acquisition was structured to deliberately exclude Jason from a shareholder notification he was legally entitled to as a minority interest holder in a Meridian subsidiary."
I looked up from the transfer records.
"Jason doesn't hold a minority interest in any Meridian subsidiary."
"He's claiming he does.
Through a company called Hartwell Consulting Group.
He says Hartwell holds a four-point-two percent stake in a Meridian subsidiary called Meridian Pacific, and that the acquisition documents failed to notify Hartwell of the change in majority ownership."
Dr.
Reyes had set her pen down.
"Hartwell Consulting Group," I said.
"Carol, does that name appear anywhere in your records?"
She was already typing.
"Give me thirty seconds."
I waited.
"Yes," she said.
"Hartwell Consulting Group is one of the fourteen vendors in the folder."
The room went very quiet.
"Grace," I said, "Jason is claiming that a company he used to embezzle money from Meridian also holds a legitimate equity stake in a Meridian subsidiary, and that this stake entitles him to legal standing to challenge the acquisition."
"That appears to be the argument," Grace said.
"It's creative."
"It's a fabrication."
"Almost certainly.
But it will take time to prove, and Reeves knows that.
He's not trying to win this argument.
He's trying to slow everything down."
Phillip looked up from his laptop.
"If he can get an injunction on the acquisition while the subsidiary question is litigated, he could freeze Vanguard's operational control of Meridian for months."
"He won't get an injunction," I said.
"He might get a temporary one," Grace said.
"Forty-eight to seventy-two hours.
Enough time for someone to move assets, destroy records, or disappear."
I thought about the Nevada account.
The deposit made eleven days ago.
After the filing.
"Phillip," I said, "how quickly can we get a preservation order on Meridian's financial records?"
"I can have the motion filed by noon."
"File it."
"Done."
"Grace, respond to Reeves.
Tell him we've reviewed his package and we'll have a formal response within twenty-four hours.
Don't give him anything substantive."
"Understood.
Helena — he's going to push for a meeting.
In person.
He'll say Jason wants to talk directly."
"Jason can want whatever he likes."
"He may show up at Vanguard."
I looked at the transfer records on my desk.
Four point one million dollars.
Thirty-one months.
An uncle who liked fishing and apparently also liked Delaware shell companies.
"If Jason shows up at Vanguard," I said, "have security escort him to the lobby and call me immediately."
"And if he calls you directly?"
I thought about the eleven missed calls from the night before.
The three from his personal number.
"He already has," I said.
"I haven't listened to the voicemails yet."
"Do you want me to listen to them first?"
"No." I picked up my phone from the desk.
"I'll do it now."
I put the phone on speaker so Grace could hear.
The first voicemail was from eleven forty-eight p.m.
Jason's voice was controlled.
Careful.
*Helena.
I think we both know this doesn't have to go where you're taking it.
Call me.*
The second was from twelve thirty-two a.m.
Less controlled.
*You want to talk about what's fair?
Let's talk about the fact that you've been building this for two years without telling me.
Two years.
You want to call that a marriage?
Call me back.*
The third was from two seventeen a.m.
His voice had changed again.
Quieter.
And underneath the quiet, something I recognized from nine years of marriage — the particular tone Jason used when he was genuinely afraid.
*Helena.
I know about the Nevada account.
I know you found it.
Before you do anything with that, you need to understand that there are things in those records that are going to be very difficult to explain.
For both of us.
I'm asking you to call me before this goes any further.
Please.*
I stopped the recording.
Grace was silent for a moment.
"Both of us," she said.
"Yes."
"He's claiming you have exposure in the Nevada account."
"He's claiming it," I said.
"That doesn't make it true."
"Helena.
Is there anything in those records I need to know about before we go further?"
I looked at Dr.
Reyes.
She was watching me steadily, her pen back in her hand.
"Carol," I said.
"The Nevada account.
Is Helena Drake's name on any document, any transfer authorization, any registered filing connected to that account?"
"No," she said immediately.
"I've been through every page.
Your name does not appear."
"Grace," I said.
"There's nothing."
"Then he's bluffing."
"He's doing what he always does when he's cornered," I said.
"He's trying to make me feel like I have something to lose by continuing."
A pause.
"Does it work?" Grace asked.
May you like
I looked out the window at the Minneapolis skyline, gray and cold under a February sky.
"It used to," I said.
