The Counterstrike Part 2

Chapter 193: The Counterstrike Part 2 Arthur Webb did not answer Martha's last sentence at once, and the silence told her more than his words would have. He had spent decades cleaning after powerful families, but he still disliked the moment when a family structure became openly disposable. Richard had been useful as chairman, grieving son, obedient public face. At four o'clock, if he stood beside Isabella Voss again, he would become evidence. Evidence had to be discredited, sealed, or removed. "Arthur," Martha said, "if you are looking for a gentler route, find it before eleven." "There isn't one," Webb said. Paper shifted on his end. "Krause and Vance believe Richard can answer questions we cannot. They are worried about director liability. They have both asked whether their previous votes on Foundation budgets exposed them." Good. Fear had entered the room before Richard did. Martha sat behind the desk and opened a clean document. "Then our board communication changes. Do not argue that I am innocent. Argue that the board cannot allow an emotionally compromised chairman to hand governance to a claimant whose evidence may be externally funded." "That language is severe." "So is a criminal referral." Webb exhaled through his nose. "If Richard repeats his District Attorney testimony in the meeting, we challenge the circumstances. No independent counsel. Emotional shock. Recent contact with the woman calling herself Isabella Rose Voss. Pressure from Margaret Chen. Pressure from Sarah Kim's media plan." "And Catherine." "Personal grudge," Webb said, falling into rhythm now. "Lost custody in 2002. Longstanding resentment toward the guardian who raised the child. Testimony obtained after Isabella approached her with documents and family photographs." Martha typed while he spoke. Catherine Voss did not need to look corrupt. She only needed to look wounded. Wounded people misremembered. Wounded people accepted stories that made their suffering meaningful. A jury might forgive that. A board would fear it. "The former employees?" Martha asked. "Financial incentives. Disgruntled departures. Memories from 2002. We ask whether any protection, payment, consulting arrangement, or media assistance has been offered." "The medical witnesses?" "Same. Memory reliability. Influence from the Voss legal team. Chain of custody on any old records." Martha wrote the phrases down, not because she needed Webb to tell her the strategy, but because directors liked seeing language that looked legally harvested. Words in a lawyer's cadence calmed frightened men. They could repeat them later and feel prudent instead of cowardly. "And Alvarez," Webb said. "Killed article in 2002. Grudge against institutions. Potential media profit now." "Good." On the security monitor beside her desk, one of the reporters across the street lifted a phone and turned away from the camera crew. The first seeded question had landed somewhere. Martha watched the woman listen, frown, and start taking notes. The sight gave Martha the visible return she wanted. Doubt did not need a podium. It only needed a mouth to enter. "Now Ethan Hunt," Webb said. Martha's fingers stopped. There was the harder problem. Ethan's documents were not false. James Hunt Sr.'s connection to her was real. Hunt Capital archives held material she had believed safely contained by hierarchy, reputation, and paternal control. Ethan had broken the oldest rule of families like theirs: he had chosen fact over blood. "We do not claim his documents are forged," Martha said. "No," Webb said. "Too risky." "We claim his state of mind is compromised." This silence was shorter. Webb understood. "Traumatic memory recovery," he said. "Dissociative amnesia. Public rupture with his father. Possible influence by Isabella Voss and Margaret Chen. An affidavit signed under psychological distress." "And Hunt Sr.?" "If we notify his office that our response may question Ethan's stability, he may do the rest himself." Martha leaned back. James Hunt Sr. had never cared about tenderness. If Ethan threatened the patriarch, the patriarch would protect the institution first and call it family necessity later. He could remove Ethan as CEO, challenge his competence, freeze his access, and give the press a second source for the same doubt Martha wanted seeded. "Call him," Martha said. "Directly?" "No. Through the channel he pretends is independent. Tell him his son's affidavit will be framed as trauma-driven unless Hunt Capital clarifies its position before eleven." "That may provoke him." "That is the point." For the first time that morning, Webb sounded almost like himself. "If Hunt Sr. attacks Ethan publicly, it supports the instability frame. If he stays silent, we ask why a corporate patriarch refuses to defend the son releasing family documents. Either way, the board hears uncertainty." "Now you are awake." Webb ignored that. "There is still Pemberton. His cooperation agreement is dangerous. If he kept copies, and if the DA accepts them, our response may not slow the criminal side." Martha looked at the locked drawer again. Pemberton had known enough to survive her for twenty-four years. Of course he had kept copies. Men who worked in darkness always kept a candle for themselves. "Then we make his survival look like motive," she said. "A fixer facing indictment invents a cleaner story by pointing upward. Immunity in exchange for testimony. Documents no one has independently verified. A man saving himself." "He will have corroboration." "Then we question the route to it." Webb did not argue. He had learned, like everyone else, that Martha did not require belief. She required usable motion. The security monitor shifted as a black SUV slowed outside the townhouse, then continued past. For one second Martha thought of Richard arriving years ago after Isabella's supposed funeral, ruined enough to sign anything she put before him. She had made grief useful then. She would make it useful again now. "Prepare the board packet," she said. "Three tracks: Richard compromised, Voss witnesses unreliable, Hunt Capital opportunistic. If he stands by Isabella at four, we make the emergency leadership question unavoidable." "Remove him as chairman?" "If necessary." "That will split the board." "It is already split. I prefer a split I can count." Another notification crossed her screen before Webb could answer. The spokesperson had forwarded a reporter's inquiry: `Can Martha Thorne comment on allegations that Hunt Capital funded witness outreach before today's press conference?` Martha read it twice, satisfaction tightening into caution. The question was alive now. But living questions could bite their maker if they ran too far, too fast. "Arthur," she said, "move carefully on witness language. No direct contact. No promises. Everything through counsel." "Understood." She was about to end the call when Webb lowered his voice. "There are already former employees asking what happens if they speak. Some are frightened." Martha looked at the clock. 8:12. "Then before Isabella reaches the microphones," she said, "find out which frightened people still prefer silence."