Chapter 5: Shadows at the Table
The Peninsula rooftop restaurant felt like a different world from the one I'd left behind five years ago. High above the city, glass walls all around, the lights of Manhattan spread out below like spilled diamonds. The wind was gentle up here, carrying the faint scent of expensive cigars and grilled steak. Tables were spaced far enough apart that conversations stayed private. Exactly what I needed.
I arrived early. Black suit, no tie, top button undone. Nothing flashy. Just clean lines and quiet confidence. The hostess recognized the name I'd given—Alexander Reed, a name Harlan pulled from one of the Consortium's dormant aliases. She led me to the corner table without asking questions. Private booth. View of the skyline. Perfect.
I sat with my back to the wall. Old habit from years of watching doors. A server brought water without me asking. I sipped it slowly, eyes on the entrance.
Marcus Langford's CFO arrived at eight sharp. Daniel Voss. Late forties. Salt-and-pepper hair, navy suit that cost more than most people's cars. He scanned the room once, spotted me, and walked over with the easy stride of someone used to being the most important person in any space.
"Mr. Reed?" he said, extending a hand.
I stood. Shook it firmly. "Daniel. Good to meet you."
He slid into the opposite seat. The server appeared instantly. Voss ordered scotch neat. I asked for the same.
He leaned back, studying me. "You're a hard man to pin down. My assistant said you reached out through a mutual contact. Said you had interest in Harrington Group."
I nodded once. "I do."
He smiled. The kind of smile that said he thought he already had the upper hand. "They're in a strong position right now. Merger talks are moving fast. Langford sees real synergy. Their distribution network paired with our tech platform? Could be transformative."
"Could be," I agreed. "If everything lines up."
The drinks arrived. He lifted his glass in a small toast. "To possibilities."
I touched my glass to his. Didn't drink yet.
Voss set his down. "So tell me, Mr. Reed. What exactly are you looking to invest? And why Harrington specifically?"
I let the question hang for a second. Took a slow sip of scotch. The burn was familiar now. Steadying.
"I'm not looking to invest in Harrington," I said quietly. "I'm looking to understand why someone would."
He blinked. Just once. But I caught it.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
He laughed. Short. A little forced. "You flew me up here for dinner to tell me not to do business with them?"
"I didn't fly you anywhere. You were already in the city. And I'm buying dinner to ask you a few questions. If you answer honestly, maybe we talk about something else entirely."
Voss leaned forward now. Elbows on the table. Voice lower. "You're playing games."
"No games. Just facts."
I reached into my jacket pocket. Pulled out a single folded sheet. The same kind Harlan had shown me earlier. I slid it across the table.
He unfolded it slowly. Scanned the numbers. His eyes narrowed.
"That's their current debt schedule," I said. "Offshore facilities. Balloon payments coming due in the next eighteen months. They've been rolling them over with bridge loans from private lenders at rates that would make most banks laugh. The merger is their lifeline. Without it, they miss one payment and the cascade starts."
Voss looked up. "Where did you get this?"
"Doesn't matter. What matters is whether Langford knows."
He folded the paper again. Tucked it into his inside pocket. "We've done our due diligence."
"Have you?"
Silence stretched between us.
He took a long drink of scotch. Set the glass down carefully.
"What's your angle, Reed? You're not shorting them. You're not buying debt. So what do you want?"
I met his eyes. Held them. "I want you to ask yourself one question before you sign anything tomorrow. What happens if the board finds out about the creative accounting? The offshore transfers? The small matter of two million dollars that disappeared under false employee names five years ago?"
His face didn't change much. But his fingers tightened around the glass.
"You're threatening us?"
"No. I'm warning you. There's a difference."
He studied me for a long moment. Then he leaned back again. "You're not just some investor."
"I'm someone who used to be very close to the Harrington family. Close enough to know things they wish I didn't."
Voss exhaled through his nose. "You're the ex-husband."
I didn't confirm. Didn't need to.
He laughed again. This time it sounded real. Bitter. "Jesus. This is personal."
"Very."
He looked out at the city for a minute. Lights reflecting in his eyes.
"Victoria Harrington is sharp," he said finally. "Ambitious. She's the one pushing this merger hardest. Langford likes that. But if what you're saying is true… if there's even a whiff of fraud…"
"There's more than a whiff."
He nodded slowly. "I'll need proof. Hard proof. Not just spreadsheets."
"You'll get it. When the time is right."
Voss finished his drink. Stood up.
"I'm not pulling out yet," he said. "But I'm not signing blind either. Lunch tomorrow just got a lot more interesting."
He extended his hand again. I shook it.
"Thanks for the scotch," he said. "And the headache."
He walked away. Steady stride. But slower than when he arrived.
I sat there alone for a while after he left. The city kept moving below. Cars. Lights. Lives that didn't know anything about mine.
My phone buzzed.
Harlan.
Victoria just left her apartment. Heading to a bar downtown. Alone. She's been on her phone the last twenty minutes. Searched "one dollar deposit anonymous" three times. Then searched your old work email. Then searched "Black Consortium."
I stared at the screen.
She was starting to feel it. The first real thread pulling loose.
I typed back: Keep watching. Don't interfere.
Then I stood. Left cash on the table. More than enough.
Walked to the elevator. Doors closed behind me.
Down we went. Floor by floor.
Back into the night.
The city air hit me when I stepped outside. Cool. Clean. Alive.
I got into the Audi. Started the engine.
Drove toward the river again. Same spot as earlier.
Parked. Got out. Leaned on the railing.
The water was darker now. Moonlight on it like silver cracks.
I thought about Victoria at that bar. Maybe sipping wine. Maybe staring at her phone. Wondering who sent the dollar. Wondering why it felt like a message.
She didn't know yet.
But she would.
Soon.
I pulled the black card from my pocket. Turned it over in my fingers.
The raven stared back. Wings wide. Key in its beak.
I slipped it back into my pocket.
Then I got in the car again.
Headed home.
Not the apartment I used to share with her.
The real one.
The one that had been waiting.
Tomorrow was lunch. Victoria and Voss. Deals on the table.
And somewhere in the shadows, I'd be listening.
Watching.
Collecting.
One quiet piece at a time.
Until there was nothing left for them to hold onto.
The engine purred as I merged onto the highway.
The city lights blurred past.
And for the first time in a long time, the road ahead didn't feel empty.
It felt full of things I was finally ready to take back.