Chapter 6 - Tracking the Treasury
At 6:30 AM, the sun rose over the mountains of Mexico City, casting a pale, yellow light across the glass facade of the Williams Tower on Paseo de la Reforma. The corporate offices were usually empty at this hour, but the executive boardroom on the forty-fifth floor was fully illuminated, the long mahogany table covered in digital tablets, printouts of banking ledgers, and folders containing corporate property titles.
Victor sat at the head of the table. He had showered and changed into a fresh, navy-blue suit brought from his office locker by his assistant, but the fatigue around his eyes was visible. Across from him sat Sofia Ramos, the head of his forensic accounting division, and Mateo Herrera, the chief legal counsel for Williams Development.
"Give me the numbers, Sofia," Victor said, taking a sip from a fresh cup of espresso.
Sofia tapped her tablet, projecting a massive spreadsheet onto the wall-mounted screen. "It’s exactly as Brian Smith suggested, Mr. Williams. Every month for thirty-six months, fifty thousand dollars was transferred from your personal investment account to a secondary trust named The Annie Williams Support Fund."
"The account was supposed to require Catherine’s signature for withdrawal," Victor noted.
"It did," Sofia said, her face grim. "But the signature on every single monthly withdrawal slip was a digital clone. Your mother’s personal assistant, acting under a power of attorney that Maris obtained through a faked corporate authorization three years ago, was clearing the funds. The total amount diverted is one point eight million dollars."
"Where did the money go?"
"It didn't go into high-society investments, Victor," Sofia explained, switching the screen to a map of the State of Mexico. "Maris used the funds to cover the massive gambling debts accumulated by your brother, Julian, at the underground casinos in Valle de Bravo and Houston. She was using your daughter’s support fund to keep Julian from being liquidated by his creditors."
Victor let out a cold, short laugh. Julian. His younger brother, the golden child who had never worked a day in his life, the one Maris had always protected from the consequences of his own degeneracy.
"So my daughter was eating from a hotel trash can so that Julian could lose fifty thousand a month on baccarat," Victor said, his voice entirely steady, which made his legal counsel look up with a sense of deep alarm.
"Victor," Mateo Herrera stepped in, leaning forward. "We have enough here for a federal indictment for grand larceny, identity theft, and corporate fraud. Because the funds were moved through an offshore entity in Belize before hitting Julian’s creditors, it qualifies as federal money laundering. The minimum sentence is fifteen years without the possibility of bail."
"I don't want the minimum, Mateo," Victor said, looking directly at his lawyer. "I want the maximum. I want the immediate freezing of every asset currently held in my mother’s name. The Juriquilla estate, her penthouse in Acapulco, her corporate shares in the secondary holding firms—everything."
"The Juriquilla estate is technically under a family trust controlled by her as the primary trustee," Mateo noted, checking his notes. "It will take a judge’s specific emergency order to pierce that shield."
"Then get the order," Victor said. "The federal prosecutor is downstairs at the hospital right now taking the medical forensics report from Dr. Mendez. The evidence of child endangerment and human rights violation is enough to override any civil trust in this country. I want my mother out of that house by tonight."
The door to the boardroom opened, and Brian Smith stepped inside, wearing a clean civilian suit Victor had purchased for him. He looked like a different man, his shoulders straight, his eyes clear.
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"Mr. Williams," Brian said. "Your mother’s vehicle just arrived at the lower parking garage. She’s trying to use her master elevator key to come up to the executive suite."
Victor didn't blink. He set his espresso cup down with a soft, deliberate click. "Let her come up, Brian. It’s time we discuss the final inventory of her birthday gifts."
