Chapter 72 - The Voice from Geneva
The twin outboards roared like chained animals, beating a frothing white scar into the pitch-black water. Saltwater struck my cheeks like crushed glass, freezing and bitter, but I didn't flinch. Behind us, the granite cliffs of Cascais retreated into a jagged silhouette against the low storm clouds, and atop that promontory, the lone figure with the silver cane remained motionless, watching us vanish into the swells.
Inside the clear, waterproof casing strapped to the center console, the screen pulsed violently.
*Incoming Call: +41 22 819 0044.* Geneva.
Lind kept one gloved hand clamped to the throttle and the other wrestling the stainless-steel helm. The Zodiac smashed down into the trough of a three-meter wave, sending a sheet of icy spray over the windscreen.
"Answer it!" Lind shouted over the engine whine and the crashing surf. "If it's the Swiss clearinghouse, the authentication window only stays open for ninety seconds!"
My fingers were stiff from the cold as I unlatched the waterproof seal and tapped the green icon, holding the speaker flat against my ear under the hood of my windbreaker.
"Myrna Vance," a voice said. It wasn't Roland. It wasn't Evelyn. It was a crisp, dry tone, layered with the neutral politeness of private European banking—smooth, ancient, and completely devoid of human warmth. "This is Maître Delacroix of Banque Privée Vandeleur. We have received an emergency override petition from Roland Vance’s legal counsel in Boston. He claims power of attorney over the 1988 maritime estate and demands the immediate revocation of the secondary seal."
"He doesn't have power of attorney," I said, my voice cutting through the wind with steady venom. "He forged Arthur’s signature thirty-six years ago, and he knows it."
"Be that as it may, Mrs. Vance, under Swiss fiduciary law, a formal contestation freezes all sub-ledgers within forty-eight hours unless the primary keyholder executes physical presence or transmits the original cipher," Delacroix replied calmly. "Roland’s associates are currently in our lobby in Geneva. They have filed an international injunction."
"How long do I have?"
"Until midnight tomorrow, Central European Time. If you have not countersigned at our Zurich branch or deposited the physical ledger, the assets—and every piece of documentation Arthur buried in the vault—will be permanently released into Roland’s custody under the default intestacy provisions."
The line went dead with a soft, hollow click.
May you like
I lowered the phone. Lind glanced over, his jaw set, sea spray dripping from his stubble. "Well?"
"Roland isn't trying to sink us in the water," I said, looking out into the vast, dark emptiness of the open Atlantic. "He's buying time. If we don't reach Switzerland by tomorrow night, Arthur's work is burned, and Roland owns everything Caleb and I ever touched."
