Chapter 4 - The Scorpions' Nest
The arrest of Grant Bennett hit Wall Street like a megaton bomb.
By noon, news tickers across Bloomberg and CNBC were scrolling in bright red: BENNETT MERIDIAN CEO ARRESTED FOR $140M FRAUD; FOUNDER’S DAUGHTER TAKES CONTROL. Stock prices plummeted eighteen percent in early trading as panic gripped the markets.
I didn't have time to celebrate. I was sitting in my father's old office on the eighty-fifth floor—an office Grant had redecorated in tacky chrome and black leather, which I was already having ripped out—surrounded by emergency advisors.
"Mrs. Bennett," our chief communications director said nervously, tapping her tablet. "The stock is bleeding. The credit rating agencies are threatening to downgrade our corporate bonds to junk status by tomorrow morning if we don't present a credible stabilization plan."
"And the Greek shipping syndicate?" I asked, looking at Marcus.
"That's where the real danger lies," Marcus replied gravely, pulling up a map of European maritime routes on the wall monitor. "Grant didn't work alone. He was partnered with Dimitri Vassilis, a notorious Greek shipping tycoon with heavy ties to oligarch capital. Vassilis holds the other fifty percent of V&G Holdings. Now that Grant is in federal custody, Vassilis is claiming that Bennett Meridian owes his firm a $200 million default penalty based on a contract Grant signed last month."
"A poison pill," I realized instantly. "Grant set up a contract where if he was removed as CEO, Bennett Meridian would automatically forfeit its European fleet to Vassilis as compensation."
"Exactly," Marcus sighed. "If Vassilis enforces that penalty in an international court, Bennett Meridian will lose forty percent of its operational capacity. We'll be bankrupt by the end of the quarter."
Before I could answer, my desk phone buzzed. My assistant’s voice trembled through the speaker.
"Mrs. Bennett... Dimitri Vassilis is on Line 1. He says he's calling from his yacht in Monaco."
I looked at Marcus, picked up the receiver, and hit speakerphone.
"Mr. Vassilis," I said calmly.
A deep, smooth voice with a thick Greek accent came through the line, accompanied by the faint sound of wind and waves.
"Ah, the lovely Mrs. Bennett," Vassilis purred, his tone dripping with condescending warmth. "Or should I say, the new Empress of Bennett Meridian? I must congratulate you. You crushed your husband quite thoroughly. Grant was a weak man who thought he was clever."
"I didn't call to discuss my husband, Mr. Vassilis," I replied coolly. "I assume you're calling about the fraudulent penalty clause."
Vassilis let out a soft, low laugh. "Fraudulent is such a dramatic word, my dear. Signed by your CEO, stamped by your corporate seal. In the eyes of international maritime law, it is entirely valid. $200 million or your European fleet. You have seventy-two hours before my lawyers seize your ships at the Rotterdam port."
"You collaborated with an embezzler to steal my family's legacy," I said, my grip tightening on the receiver.
"Business is a game of scorpions, Mrs. Bennett," Vassilis said, his voice dropping into a cold, menacing register. "Your father was a scorpion. Grant was a frog. What are you?"
"Find out," I said, and slammed the phone down.
Marcus looked at me nervously. "Claire, seventy-two hours isn't enough time to fight this in international court. The Dutch maritime courts will impound our ships automatically if a lien is filed."
I stood up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the icy blue expanse of Lake Michigan.
"Vassilis thinks I'm a grieving housewife playing at corporate warfare," I said softly. "He thinks I only know what's in the official ledgers."
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I turned back to Marcus.
"My father didn't just build ships, Marcus. He built an intelligence network. Call my father's old personal investigator, Frank Callahan. Tell him it's time to open the black safe at the estate."
