Chapter 8 - VENDOR 7719
Vendor 7719 did not exist in the current procurement system.
That was the first problem.
The second was worse.
It had existed until nine months earlier.
Then someone deleted it.
Atlas Discovery still had partial metadata.
Vendor 7719.
Category: Executive Protection Services.
Annual spend: $1.2 million.
Approver: D. Whitmore.
Beneficiary field: Restricted.
I stared at the screen.
“Who received the money?”
Claire pulled archived bank data.
“Company called Sentinel Group.”
Arthur frowned.
“I know Sentinel.”
“How?”
“They handled private security after Charles died.”
“For the family?”
“Yes.”
“Still active?”
“Supposedly not.”
The agents searched public records.
Sentinel Group had dissolved four years earlier.
Yet Whitmore Logistics continued paying a company using the same tax identification number until nine months ago.
“Fake vendor,” I said.
Claire nodded.
“Or recycled identity.”
We traced the payments.
Sentinel received money.
Then split it.
Some to guards.
Some to vehicles.
Some to consultants.
One recurring payment went to an individual.
Thomas Reed.
No address.
No social security record tied to the payment file.
Just Thomas Reed.
Arthur stared at the name.
“I know him.”
“Who?”
“Margaret’s driver.”
My stomach tightened.
I had seen him before.
Older man.
Broad shoulders.
Always waiting behind Margaret at events.
I remembered him standing outside Morton’s last night.
Silent.
Watching.
“How long has he worked for her?”
“Twenty years.”
Claire pulled a photograph.
Thomas Reed.
Former police officer.
Left the department after an internal investigation.
My pulse increased.
“When?”
Twenty years ago.
The same year Daniel killed the cyclist.
The room went silent.
“That’s the cover-up,” I said.
Arthur nodded.
“Or part of it.”
We requested old police records.
The cyclist’s death had been classified as a hit-and-run.
No arrest.
The original responding officer?
Thomas Reed.
Daniel had told the truth.
Margaret controlled him because she had paid a police officer to bury his crime.
But why had Whitmore Logistics continued paying Reed through a fake security vendor for two decades?
Blackmail maintenance.
Protection.
Or something else.
Then Claire found another layer.
Thomas Reed had received bonuses on specific dates.
One of those dates was the day after Charles Whitmore died.
Nobody spoke.
Another payment came the week Melissa moved from executive assistant to HR.
Another followed the Creston Freight acquisition.
Another came yesterday.
At 5:02 p.m.
Two hours before Margaret slapped me.
Amount:
$75,000.
I stared at the number.
“What happened yesterday besides dinner?”
The agents checked.
Nothing obvious.
Then I remembered.
At 3:40 p.m., I had sent my preliminary vendor summary to outside counsel.
At 4:11, counsel confirmed receipt.
At 5:02, Thomas Reed received $75,000.
The sequence made my skin crawl.
“He was paid after they learned about my report.”
Arthur looked at me.
“For what?”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
My car.
Parked outside my apartment.
Taken from across the street.
The black sedan.
I looked toward the window.
It was still there.
Arthur stood.
“Everybody away from the glass.”
Federal agents moved immediately.
One went outside.
The sedan pulled away.
Too late to stop safely.
The message beneath the photo read:
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO QUIT.
A second arrived.
DANIEL WAS SUPPOSED TO FIRE YOU.
Then:
MARGARET MADE IT MESSY.
My stomach tightened.
The slap had not been part of the plan.
The firing had.
They expected me to leave quietly.
When I reported instead, everything accelerated.
Claire whispered:
“Whoever is texting you isn’t Margaret.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they’re criticizing her.”
Good point.
Then another message appeared.
7719 IS NOT MARGARET’S SECURITY.
I typed:
THEN WHOSE?
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then the answer:
YOURS.
Nobody moved.
“My security?”
Arthur frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
The next message explained.
YOU HAVE BEEN WATCHED FOR ELEVEN MONTHS.
My blood turned cold.
Eleven months.
That was approximately when I had first flagged unusual vendor activity.
Not officially.
Just in my personal audit notes.
Someone knew before Daniel did.
Before Margaret did.
Before the board did.
“Who ordered it?”
No answer.
Then Claire received an email from forensic accounting.
She read it.
Her face went pale.
“What?”
“Vendor 7719 paid for more than surveillance.”
She turned the laptop toward me.
Hotel rooms.
Rental cars.
Phone-location subscriptions.
Background checks.
And one recurring expense.
A private investigator assigned to:
ETHAN CARTER.
The investigator’s internal authorization code was not Daniel’s.
Not Margaret’s.
Not Melissa’s.
May you like
It belonged to Robert Leland.
The board chairman.
