"I am a VIP, you idiot," Charles snarled, flashing his face under the light. "I'm Charles Sterling. CEO of Vanguard Equities. Go back inside."
The employee squinted, recognizing the face from the gala’s promotional materials. "Oh. Sorry, Mr. Sterling. But they specifically told us to clear this alley. Some law firm's security detail just commandeered the front drive and they're sweeping the building."
Charles’s blood turned to ice.
A law firm's security detail.
They were already here. The trust lawyers had tracked William’s movements from the clinic to the local shelters, and finally to this neighborhood. They had found him.
"Get up," Charles hissed, turning back to William as the employee retreated inside.
He grabbed the old man by the collar, hauling him roughly to his feet. William let out a cry of pain as his ribs shifted.
"Walk," Charles ordered, shoving him toward the narrow, unlit gap between the hotel and the neighboring parking garage. "Make a sound, and I swear to God I'll beat you to death right here."
William stumbled forward, terrified, his boots splashing in the deep puddles. He didn't understand what was happening, but he recognized the murderous intent radiating from the man in the suit.
Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out his father’s solid gold pocket watch—the pristine one, the one that proved his own identity. He looked at William's battered watch in his left hand.
If the lawyers didn't have the vagrant, they had nothing. Without a body, a flagged blood test from a free clinic was just a clerical error.
"Keep moving," Charles shoved him harder.
They reached the chain-link fence at the end of the alley. Beyond it lay a darkened access street leading down to the river.
"Climb," Charles ordered.
"I can't," William gasped, coughing violently. "I'm too weak."
"Climb!" Charles roared, losing the last thread of his sanity. He grabbed William by the jacket and slammed him against the chain-link metal. The fence rattled loudly in the storm.
Suddenly, a blinding beam of white light cut through the rain, washing over the alley from the street side.
Charles shielded his eyes, turning back toward the hotel.
A sleek, black Maybach had just pulled past the security barricades, completely ignoring the valet attendants. The heavy tires splashed through the puddles, coming to a smooth, silent stop directly at the mouth of the service alley. The headlights were pointed directly at Charles, pinning him against the brick wall like an insect under a microscope.