Chapter 9
The caller ID displayed the private direct line of Paul Rankin.
I pressed the speaker button. “Nadia Ellison.”
“Nadia,” Paul’s booming, gravelly voice echoed through the loft. He didn’t bother with morning pleasantries. “I received your formal advisory thirty minutes ago. I just got off the phone with my controller. Is this true?”
“Good morning, Paul,” I answered evenly. “Every word in that notice is accurate. My enterprise software firm maintains zero financial ties, zero collateral arrangements, and zero liquidity obligations to Ellison Office Supply.”
Paul was quiet for a long moment. Over the line, I could hear the rustle of heavy bond paper.
“Nadia… when I signed that three-year supply contract with Arthur last fall, he sat in my boardroom and explicitly told my executive committee that your technology firm was an operational subsidiary of his holding group. He claimed your software patents served as balance sheet collateral for his logistics expansion.”
A cold, mirthless smile touched my lips. “Arthur lied to you, Paul. He has never owned a single share of AegisText. He does not understand how the software works, and he has never contributed a single dollar to its development.”
Paul let out a low, dangerous whistle through his teeth. “We have half a million dollars’ worth of mission-critical continuous-feed manifest stationery scheduled for delivery out of his warehouse by Thursday. If that paper doesn’t hit our regional sorting hubs, our freight trucks don’t roll.”
“Then I suggest you call Arthur right now,” I said calmly. “And ask him if he has paid the rail-yard freight release fees on those containers.”
“I’m sending our corporate auditor to their facility within the hour,” Paul snapped. “Thank you for the early warning, Nadia. If what you’re telling me is borne out on their balance sheet, our contract is null and void by noon.”
“Do what you must for your firm, Paul. My software updates will deploy to your terminals at five this evening as scheduled.”
“You’re a professional, Nadia. I only wish your family shared your code of ethics.”
The line disconnected.
I checked my personal phone, which sat in the bottom desk drawer.
I unlocked the screen.
Missed Calls (14):
Grant Ellison (6)
Arthur Ellison (4)
Evelyn Ellison (3)
Howard Klein, CFO (1)
New Text Messages (7):
Grant (10:12 AM): “Nadia, pick up the damn phone! What did your legal buddy send to Dad? Howard is having a stroke in the accounting office!”
Grant (10:34 AM): “Nadia! The bank froze our payroll clearing account! Stop playing games!”
Arthur (10:41 AM): “Call my office immediately. This childish prank is interfering with commercial bank relationships. Rectify this right now.”