Chapter 68 - The Threshold of Courtroom 4B
By 1:45 PM, the slush of northern Maine had given way to the gray, sleet-drenched congestion of downtown Boston.
Ross pulled the battered Explorer, its rear bumper hanging loose and its left side scored with jagged silver scrapes, directly into the subterranean garage of the John Joseph Moakley United States Courthouse on Fan Pier.
Two armed federal marshals were waiting at the elevator bay.
"Agent Ross?" the lead marshal asked, eyeing our dented truck. "U.S. Attorney Miller said you were coming in hot."
"We have the primary witness and chain-of-custody evidence for the Vance-Pemberton hearing," Ross said, flashing his credentials. "Get us straight up to Courtroom 4B without going through the public concourse."
Thomas stepped out of the truck. He was wearing an old tweed jacket Ross had bought him at an LL Bean outlet in Freeport on the way down, his white beard trimmed neatly, carrying the 1904 ledger securely under his arm. He didn't look like an off-grid recluse anymore. He looked like an old New England timber patriarch who had come to collect a long-overdue debt.
"How are you holding up, Uncle Thomas?" I asked as the elevator ascended.
Thomas looked at his reflection in the mirrored steel wall. "For thirty-eight years, Marcus, I woke up every morning wondering if today was the day Arthur’s men would burn that cabin down around my ears. Today, Arthur finds out what it feels like to wait for the fire."
The elevator chimed on the fourth floor.
We stepped out into the holding vestibule behind the courtroom. Assistant U.S. Attorney Sarah Miller was pacing near the double doors, a stack of legal briefs clutched to her chest.
When she saw us, her jaw dropped.
"Is that...?" she started.
"Thomas Vance," Ross said. "Alive, lucid, and holding the original 1904 surveyor’s restrictive covenant."
Miller took a deep, shuddering breath. "Arthur’s counsel has been in front of Judge Garcetti for twenty minutes. They’ve already submitted the 1998 Shannon Timber proxy. They’re arguing that because Thomas Vance is deceased in the eyes of Somerset County probate, the custodial power of attorney held by Vance-Pemberton & Associates is irrevocable."
"What’s the judge doing?" I asked.
"She was about to sign the preliminary injunction freezing Tracts One through Nine," Miller said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "She told me I had until two-fifteen to show cause why Arthur shouldn't be granted supervisory control of the trust."
I looked at Thomas. He gave me a single, slow nod.
May you like
"Counselor," Thomas said to Miller, his voice resonant and commanding. "Open the doors."
***
