Chapter Twenty-One #2
The computer I’m using is completely anonymous. Downloading from a trackable database might threaten that anonymity.
I dial up Tommy on my burner, knowing he’s usually awake very late.
“Lyra,” he greets after two rings. “How’s it going, gorgeous?”
I roll my eyes. I don’t think he’ll ever stop flirting with me. “It’s going. I’ve got a quick question for your IT brain.”
“Well, my brain—and other anatomical parts—are always at your disposal. What’s up?”
My lips curve up despite myself. “I’m wanting to download some SEC reports for the course of my investigation, using the computer you gave me. I’m just wondering if doing so would erase the anonymous footprint, since I know the website tracks users and downloads?”
“Wouldn’t erase or threaten anything,” Tommy says cheerfully. “Any government site you fuck around with will track your IP address to Beijing, DC, or Norway. It changes by the hour.”
I exhale a breath of relief. “Tommy?”
“Beautiful?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re the absolute best?”
“Well, usually I hear praise on having the best coc—”
I hang up before he can finish that thought, download the last four quarterly reports, and two yearly reports.
I make myself a cup of tea, get comfortable, and start digging through the yearlies.
The first thing to stand out to me is just how many LLC’s are owned by Helixon Biopharma. There are dozens. I release a sigh and settle in, looking into each LLC. They’re all addressed either in Delaware, Luxembourg, or the Cayman Islands—places known for loose tax laws and money laundering.
Next up are the quarterly reports, which show millions donated or loaned to nonprofit organizations. When I research the nonprofit organizations, I see that they’re all fronts—they’re linked to politicians, think tanks, or philanthropic clubs.
Killian is giving millions of dollars to places and people that don’t exist. They’re all shell corps.
He’s in bed with people who he doesn’t want the world to know about.
Most wouldn’t notice the details that pop out to me, but I jot all of them down, determined to get as much on Killian as possible.
Rhea’s reference to Killian’s off-the-books meetings flash through my mind.
She mentioned Silas Cornell, which means I should eventually dig into him, but it begs the question…
who else is Killian meeting with? I’d bet my right arm that he’s spending time with the same people he’s funneling money to.
I’m halfway through the reports with ten pages worth of notes when my encrypted phone rings. I got so caught up in my research, I lost track of the time. Anxiety beats at my chest as I open up a new, blank document and hold up the phone, accepting the call.
I don’t say anything, waiting for my source—John—to speak first.
His voice finally comes over the line, dark and toneless. “If this conversation is being recorded, I’ll have you killed.”
Fear crawls over my skin, but I force my tone to come out neutral. “I have just as much skin in this game as you do. Recordings would be as devastating to me as they would be to you.”
“Glad you’re smart enough to realize that.” John pauses. “What do you want?”
“You mentioned when we messaged that Killian fucked you over. I’d like you to tell me as much as you’re comfortable about that.”
John Tudor was one of the world’s moguls for luxury imports and exports… up until about five years ago, when his company was dissolved and sold out in parts. According to the reports I just went through on Killian, Killian owns one of those parts.
Killian has a portfolio that’s too diverse, and one of the pillars of it—one of his greatest revenue streams aside from pharma—is luxury imports and exports.
John releases a long breath. “There’s not much to tell.” His voice is bitter and dejected. Bitterness, I can work with; dejection, I can also work with. Both things might make John eager to get revenge… even though I’ve assured him that the research I’m doing is purely for my personal safety.
In a way, it is. Once I have my exposé ready, if it’s good enough, I might be able to leverage it to get Killian to delete the tape… and use it to ensure I remain alive. It’ll be a tricky, convoluted process, but it could be doable.
“I’m completely in the dark, so any information would be helpful.”
John scoffs. “It’s simple enough, and far too common in my world.
I owned a business that King started to covet—luxury imports and exports.
Every big label you know of was on my roster of clients, and they paid me extremely well as a middleman for moving their goods.
King came to me and asked if he could invest; I told him to go fuck himself.
He didn’t like that, so he came back with a bigger offer, this time with some of his cronies.
I gave him the same answer. Fast forward six months and too many threats to count, and my clients started dropping away like flies.
Then, my board voted me out—from the company I created—and decided to sell.
My revenue was nearly nine figures quarterly at that point, which means my board was getting the same pressure and offers as I was to make such a stupid fucking decision.
They sold off the company I built from the ground up in parts, and that was that. ”
Jesus. “And you think Mr. King forced them to sell?”
“Him and his cronies.”
“Would you happen to know who his cronies are?”
“People powerful enough to dismantle a fortune-500 company without having to show face,” John responds.
“I don’t know exactly who they are, but I do know they’re not the people to fuck with.
Neither is Killian. Whatever you’re up to, I’ll caution you to be extremely careful.
I’m too high-profile to kill without excellent reason.
You, however, can get fished out of the Hudson without any repercussions. ” He hangs up with a click.
My phone drops to my lap, and my hands start to tremble. I inhale a deep, shuddering breath. John didn’t mention Silas by name, so I’ll need to dig to see if he’s involved. If this could have to do with the quarterly meeting Rhea mentioned.
I’m on the cusp of something big; I can feel it. Something big enough to threaten my life, but if I play my cards right, something that could also save it.