Chapter 4 - The Rosemont Vault
The corporate headquarters of Preston & Associates in Gold Coast was a quiet, narrow limestone building wedged between two historic brownstones, its small windows blocked by dark velvet curtains that shut out the gray, winter rain off the lake.
Inside the primary vault room, the air smelled of old paper, leather ledger bindings, and the chemical warmth of the industrial scanner that had been running since five o'clock. Arthur Preston sat behind his desk, his glasses resting low on his nose, his silver hair uncombed as he reviewed the final consolidation papers.
"He’s trying to sell the Rosemont yard to the Lucchese cooperative, Claire," Arthur said as she entered with the twins. "I checked the maritime registry an hour ago. A foreign container vessel called the Maris Stella is currently anchored three miles out in international waters, waiting for the customs waivers Daniel signed last week."
"The customs waivers are invalid without my corporate seal, Arthur," Claire said, taking off her wool coat and throwing it over the back of a chair. "I revoked his power of attorney over the land trusts three months ago when we found the first wire transfers."
"Daniel doesn't know that, Claire," Arthur warned, pointing to a highlighted line on the screen. "He used a copy of the 2012 resolution to clear the permits through the city department. The clerk who signed off on the transfer is Silvio Rossi—Filippo's old financial manager from the transport commission."
"Silvio Rossi," Noah muttered, his hand going to the back of his sister's chair. "The man who handled the union pension funds before the grand jury investigation last winter."
"The same," Arthur said. "If the Maris Stella logs clear the harbor before the federal marshals arrive on Tuesday, Daniel’s New York partners will have the legal right to claim a maritime lien over the Rosemont concrete. They’ll tie the property up in federal receivership for ten years."
"They aren't clearing the harbor, Arthur," Claire said, reaching into her leather folio and pulling out a silver flash drive that carried the electronic seals of the federal customs enforcement division. "Dr. Vance—the chief medical inspector for the port authority—completed his audit of the Cicero chemical manifests this morning. He found twenty tons of unregistered thallium precursors hidden inside the structural oil pits under the main warehouse."
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Arthur’s hand stopped mid-air, his glasses slipping down his nose. "Thallium? That's a chemical weapon stabilizer, Claire. That's a federal counter-terrorism violation."
"Exactly," Claire said, her gray eyes turning to ice under the fluorescent lights. "Daniel thought he was just handling high-value logistics for a New York shipping trust. He didn't realize his partners were using his concrete to store things that don't carry a commercial customs code. By tomorrow morning, the FBI won't just be looking at his checkbook. They’ll be looking at his passport."
