Came through the normal channel." "Did you call to confirm?" "No, sir. I didn't think to. The message had the right format. It came from the right number. It said you'd be using a different service for the week, and that I should take paid leave. I figured the company was switching providers again. They do that sometimes." Richard nodded slowly. "Anthony, that message did not come from the dispatcher. It was made to look like it did.
Someone has been planning this for at least a week, possibly longer, and whoever it was had access to my schedule, your number, and the company's communication formats." Anthony's hands tightened on the wheel. He did not ask for more. He did not need to. He had been driving wealthy men long enough to understand what kinds of plans took a week to set up. "Where do you want me to go?" he said quietly. "There is a coffee shop on Pier Street.
The one with the green awning. Park behind it. My lawyer is meeting us there." They drove the rest of the way in silence. Richard watched the city slide past the window and thought about how strange it was that everything outside the car looked exactly the same as it had yesterday. Mothers were pushing strollers. A man was unlocking the front door of a hardware store. A delivery truck was double parked beside a bakery. None of it knew that a man had almost disappeared from the world this morning. None of it would have noticed if he had. Marcus Vale was already at the coffee shop when they arrived. He was sitting at a corner table with two coffees and a leather folder, dressed in the same plain dark suit he wore to every meeting whether it cost $10 or 10 million. He stood when Richard walked in and the two of them shook hands in the careful way of men who had known each other long enough to skip the rest. Anthony stayed by the door, his back to the room, watching the street. Richard sat down. Marcus slid one of the coffees across the table. "Tell me," Marcus said. Richard told him. He told him in the same flat and efficient voice he used when reporting losses to a board. He left nothing out. He told him about Elijah, about the recording, about the patio, about the dress from Florence, about the man with the carefully kept hair, about the fake driver, about Anthony's text message. He spoke for almost 15 minutes without stopping. Marcus did not interrupt once. He listened the way good lawyers listen, which is to say he wrote nothing down but missed nothing. When Richard finished, Marcus took a long sip of his coffee. "All right," he said, "I have the insurance information.
I had it within 40 minutes of your call. I have not slept much in 19 years and I do not intend to start today." He opened the leather folder and laid three printed pages on the table. "Your policy," he said, "issued 11 years ago, original coverage $4 million, standard for a man in your position at the time. It has been adjusted twice. The first time was 8 years ago after the company went public. Coverage was raised to $12 million.
That adjustment was routine. I was in the room when you signed it. He tapped the third page. The second adjustment was 14 months ago. The coverage was raised to $35 million. An accidental death rider was added which doubles the payout to $70 million under specific circumstances. The beneficiary clause was simplified. All conditional language was removed. Vivian is now the sole beneficiary with no contestable provisions, no waiting period, no exclusions for the first 2 years of the new coverage.