Chapter 7: Catherine Marsh
I called the number Daniel had given me before Carver's car had finished pulling away from the curb.
It rang six times.
Then a woman's voice, Scottish accent, careful and alert: "Yes."
"My name is Ryan.
I'm Daniel's brother."
A beat.
"He told me you might call.
Are you safe?"
"For now.
A man named Carver just left my house.
He mentioned your name."
Silence.
Then: "How did he get my name?"
"I don't know.
But he has it." I moved to the window and checked the street.
The sedan was g*ne.
"How secure are the documents?"
"They're in a safe-deposit box.
The key is not at my office." Her voice was steady but I could hear something underneath it recalibrating.
"Does he know about the box specifically?"
"He didn't say.
But he implied he was going to reach you before we did."
"Then we need to move faster than I planned." A pause.
"The documents show three things.
First, a payment made to Daniel's mother — Margaret Lowe — the night before the birth.
The payment is documented as coming from a family trust controlled by your father and co-signed by Carver as attorney.
Second, a sworn statement from the delivering physician — now d*ead — that both births were recorded under a single family name at Carver's instruction.
Third, a private agreement between your father and Carver granting Carver a twenty-percent stake in a property portfolio in exchange for his role in facilitating the arrangement."
I sat down on the stairs.
"So Carver didn't just help.
He profited."
"Considerably.
The portfolio is now worth somewhere between eight and twelve million pounds."
"And if the documents become public — "
"He loses the legal basis for his claim to those assets.
And he faces potential crjminal exposure for filing false court records." Her voice was even.
"That is what he is trying to protect.
Not your father's reputation.
His own fortune."
I thought of the way he'd said your name like he'd said it before.
The way his eyes had moved through my house.
"Catherine.
The documents.
Can you send them to someone here?
Someone I trust?"
"I can scan and encrypt them.
But Ryan — I want you to understand something." She paused.
"Once this moves, it moves fast.
Carver will know within hours.
Whatever he's been holding back, he won't hold it back anymore."
"I know."
"Do you have someone?
Legally, I mean.
Someone who can receive this and act on it quickly?"
I thought for a moment.
"I will by tonight."
"Then call me tonight." A brief silence.
"Daniel chose his brother well.
Even if he never got to know him properly."
She ended the call.
I sat on the stairs for a long moment.
Then I picked up my phone again and called the one person I knew who had spent thirty years making powerful men extremely uncomfortable in courtrooms.
My university roommate, Patrick Chen, answered on the first ring.
"Ryan.
What's wrong?"
"I need a solicitor who isn't afraid of a fight."
A short pause.
"How big a fight?"
"Eight to twelve million pounds and a crjminal conspiracy going back thirty years."
May you like
The pause this time was longer.
Then: "I'll clear my afternoon."
