Chapter 8 - THE STING
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Executing a corporate takedown of a billionaire like Arthur Sterling required the precision of a military operation. We couldn't rely on standard whistleblowing channels; Sterling owned federal judges, regulatory commissioners, and half the media outlets in the country.
We needed an airtight trap.
Two days after discovering the Project Genesis files, I set the first piece of the puzzle in motion. I leaked a carefully fabricated rumor through an anonymous financial blog—suggesting that Prescott Technologies had discovered a catastrophic regulatory flaw in the Merritt Systems platform and was planning to back out of the acquisition retroactively due to undisclosed liabilities.
The bait was swallowed instantly.
Within four hours of the blog post dropping, my private phone rang. Caller ID: Arthur Sterling.
I answered on the first ring, slipping into my most exhausted, corporate-fatigued tone. "Sterling. What do you want? I'm in the middle of a PR nightmare."
"Damon, my boy!" Arthur’s smooth, oily voice filled the speaker. "I saw the ridiculous gossip online. Terrible timing for you, absolutely dreadful. But you know me—I've always been a pragmatist. If Prescott Technologies is having cold feet about the Merritt acquisition, Calder’s group is still prepared to take the platform off your hands. Pennies on the dollar, of course, to account for the... regulatory risk."
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. He was circling like a vulture, desperate to get his hands on the platform before the incriminating clinical trial files were discovered by independent auditors.
"That's generous of you, Arthur," I replied, forcing my voice to sound strained. "Frankly, my legal team is advising a complete walkaway. But there are... complications. Certain proprietary data files are locked in a secure server that requires my biometric authorization to release. If we're going to talk about a buyout, we need to do it in person. Tonight. My private estate in the foothills."
A brief pause hung on the line. I could practically hear the gears turning in Arthur’s calculating brain as he weighed the risk against the reward of securing the evidence and burying it forever.
"Very well, Damon," Arthur agreed smoothly. "I'll fly into Denver on my private Gulfstream this evening. I'll be at your gates by midnight."
"I'll leave the lights on," I said, and disconnected the call.
I tossed the phone onto the desk and looked up at Cassandra, who was standing by the surveillance monitors mapping out the estate's security perimeters.
May you like
"He's taking the bait," I said.
"Good," Cassandra replied, loading a secure digital recording device into her pocket. "Because federal prosecutor Miller is already stationed in the guest house with his team, waiting to record every single word Arthur says."
