Chapter 9: The Weakest Link
At 9:00 a.m., David Mercer was escorted into Caroline’s glass office by two of Lee’s security contractors.
Mercer was a handsome man in his early forties, wearing a tailored Brooks Brothers suit and a nervous, arrogant smirk. He looked like the kind of man who tipped poorly and complained about the temperature of his soup.
“What is this about?” Mercer demanded, adjusting his silk tie. “I have a conference call with the Seattle distributor in ten minutes. Are you the new auditor?”
Caroline didn’t look up from her tablet. “Sit down, David.”
“Excuse me?” Mercer scoffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t take orders from secretaries. I want to speak to Mr. Lee.”
Caroline finally looked up. Her eyes were dead, reflecting the cold blue light of the monitors.
“Mr. Lee is currently deciding whether you leave this building through the elevator, or if you leave it through the window,” Caroline said softly. “I highly suggest you sit down.”
If you had the power to destroy a man’s life with a single sentence, would you feel guilty, or would you feel invincible?
Mercer’s arrogant smirk faltered. He looked at the two armed guards flanking the door, then slowly lowered himself into the leather chair opposite her desk.
“I signed off on container 88-A last night,” Mercer said defensively, trying to seize control of the conversation. “Standard transit loss. Two crates damaged by saltwater exposure. It’s written in the ledger.”
“I don’t care about the ledger, David,” Caroline said, sliding a thick manila folder across the desk. “I care about the baccarat tables at the Bellagio.”
Mercer froze. The blood drained from his face.
“You owe three hundred thousand dollars to the pit boss in Vegas,” Caroline recited, leaning back in her chair. “You remortgaged your house in Calabasas twice. Your wife filed for divorce three weeks ago because she found out about the escort you’ve been keeping in a penthouse downtown. You are drowning, David.”
“You… you can’t access my personal financials,” Mercer stammered, his voice climbing an octave in panic. “That’s illegal!”
“I work for Lee Dong Wuk,” Caroline whispered, a dark, cynical smile curving her lips. “Do you really want to talk to me about what is illegal?”
“I didn’t steal anything!” Mercer shouted, panic completely breaking his corporate veneer. “The cameras at the port glitched! It’s a faulty system! You can’t prove I touched those crates!”
“I don’t need to prove it to a jury,” Caroline replied, her voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute calm. “I only need to prove it to the man standing behind you.”
Mercer whipped his head around.
Lee Dong Wuk was standing in the doorway. He had entered the office completely silently. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his dark eyes were fixed on Mercer with the terrifying intensity of an apex predator.
“Mr. Lee,” Mercer gasped, jumping out of his chair. “Sir, I swear to you, this woman is lying! She’s fabricating this data!”
Lee ignored him. He looked directly at Caroline. “Is he the thief?”
“He is the mechanism,” Caroline corrected, standing up to face her boss. “He created the three-minute blind spots at Pier 44. But he didn’t steal the pharmaceuticals. He isn’t smart enough to fence them on the black market.”
“You arrogant bitch!” Mercer snarled, lunging toward Caroline’s desk.
Before Mercer could take a full step, Jin materialized from the shadows, grabbing Mercer by the back of his neck and slamming his face violently down onto the glass desk.
The heavy thud rattled the monitors. Mercer groaned, a thin line of blood trickling from his nose onto the pristine glass.
“Keep your hands on the table, David,” Caroline ordered, not even flinching at the sudden violence.
Lee walked forward, stopping just inches from Mercer’s bleeding face. “If he did not fence the cargo, Caroline, who bought his loyalty?”
“He didn’t sell his loyalty,” Caroline said, pulling up a final document on her screen. “He sold his terror. I tracked the IP address that accessed his offshore accounts. The money paying off his gambling debts isn’t coming from a fence.”
“Where is it coming from?” Lee demanded, his voice dangerously low.
“A corporate shell company called the Aurelius Group,” Caroline said, adrenaline spiking through her veins as the massive, terrifying puzzle finally locked into place.
Lee’s eyes narrowed slightly. A microscopic shift that signaled immense danger.
“Aurelius,” Lee repeated, the word tasting like venom. “Richard Ashford.”
“Ashford wasn’t just at the restaurant to celebrate a hostile corporate takeover,” Caroline revealed, her voice shaking slightly. “He was celebrating stealing your West Coast supply line. He bought David. And David gave him the cargo.”
Mercer sobbed against the glass, his tears mixing with his blood. “Please! Ashford said he would kill my family if I didn’t help him! He told me he was going to wipe you out, Mr. Lee!”
Lee looked down at the weeping, broken man on the desk. He didn’t look angry. He looked completely, utterly hollow.
“When is the next shipment arriving at Pier 44?” Lee asked, his voice dead.
“Tonight,” Mercer choked out, coughing on his own blood. “Midnight. Ashford… Ashford isn’t just taking the cargo tonight. He paid the Russian syndicate to be at the docks. It’s an ambush, Mr. Lee! If your men go to that pier tonight, they are going to be slaughtered!”
Silence descended on the glass office. It was a heavy, suffocating silence, thick with the promise of impending war.
Lee turned his head slowly, locking eyes with Caroline. The mask of the calm businessman was completely gone, replaced by the terrifying visage of a warlord who had just been invited to a bloodbath.
“Jin,” Lee said, his voice echoing with absolute finality. “Arm the men. All of them. We are going to the docks.”
