Chapter 3 - The Financial Trap
By noon the following day, while Sofia rested upstairs under the care of a private military physician Alexander had flown in from Fort Bragg, the campaign began.
Alexander sat at his terminal with three phones lined up in front of him. Beside him was Marcus, his former teammate, a tall man with a shaved head and sharp, calculating eyes who handled digital operations.
"Carmen’s husband, Hector Robles, owns Robles Global Logistics," Marcus explained, pulling up a secondary monitor showing live banking records. "They have a seven-million-dollar balloon payment due to First National Bank this Friday at 5:00 PM. They were planning to use Sofia’s condo as collateral to secure a bridge loan from an private equity group in Miami."
"Who owns that private equity group?" Alexander asked without looking up from his tablet.
Marcus grinned, a terrifyingly sharp expression. "As of twenty minutes ago? A holding company registered in Delaware... which is wholly owned by your discretionary trust, Colonel."
I stared at Alexander in shock. "You bought their debt?"
"I bought the entire firm that holds their debt," Alexander corrected calmly. "They spent ten years building a reputation as high-society elite in this city while secretly stealing from their suppliers and coercing people out of property. They targeted our daughter because they viewed her as an easy mark—a girl with no father around to defend her."
He picked up the first phone and pressed speed dial.
"This is Alexander Brooks," he said into the receiver. "Connect me to the managing director at First National. Tell him the Robles portfolio has just been reclassified as high-risk assets subject to immediate foreclosure under Covenant 4B."
He hung up without waiting for a reply and looked at the second phone.
"What about Javier’s uncle?" I asked, remembering the corrupt judge who had been looming over Sofia’s head. "Judge Mateo Robles?"
"Mateo has been taking illegal kickbacks from a private correctional facility in the state for five years," Marcus chimed in, clicking through a folder of encrypted PDF documents. "He thinks his communications are secure because he uses offshore burner accounts. He doesn't know my team has been sitting inside his personal email server since 0600 hours today."
"Send the entire file to the State Judicial Review Board and the federal prosecutor’s office in Baltimore," Alexander ordered. "Attach the wire transfer receipts from the Panama bank accounts. Release it to the regional press at 3:00 PM today."
"Consider it delivered, Colonel," Marcus said, tapping a single key on his keyboard.
Alexander finally stood up, pulling his military jacket back on. "Ellen, stay here with Sofia. Marcus’s security detail is patrolling the outer fence. No one gets in or out without my code."
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"Where are you going?" I asked, fear gripping my heart. "Alexander, don't do something that will put you in prison."
He stopped at the door, turning to look at me with an icy, calm assurance. "Prisons are for people who break the law impulsively, Ellen. I’m not breaking the law. I’m enforcing a sentence."
