“Craig’s accounts.”
“Bradley’s administrator permissions.”
“Freeze executive access tonight.”
Richard understood.
“Operations?”
“Protect freight.”
“Shift critical routing and dispatch authority to Charlotte and Birmingham overnight.”
“Do not strand drivers.”
“Do not interrupt customer loads if we can avoid it.”
“And Atlanta?”
“Administrative lockdown.”
“No Prescott family member enters without board authorization.”
Richard paused.
“Bradley?”
“Suspended pending investigation.”
“You’re not firing him tonight?”
“No.”
Richard sounded almost proud.
“Your father would approve.”
“Don’t make this sentimental.”
“Impossible.”
Aaron continued.
“I want outside employment counsel.”
“Forensic accounting.”
“Independent HR investigators.”
“Board special committee.”
“No one who reports to Bradley.”
“Done.”
“And Richard?”
“Yes?”
“Tell him who gave the order.”
A pause.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Aaron ended the call.
Fifteen minutes later Titan Freight corporate security began disabling credentials.
Not the warehouse-floor employees.
Not drivers.
Not ordinary supervisors.
Executive and administrative accounts belonging to Bradley Prescott, Craig Bellamy, Derek Whitfield, Neil Simmons, and several others were suspended.
Critical Atlanta freight loads were routed temporarily through contingency systems.
The branch did not literally shut down.
But the part Bradley believed belonged to him went dark.
At 10:46 p.m., Bradley’s phone rang.
He was back inside the ballroom.
Most employees had left.
The Prescott family occupied two tables.
Todd handed business cards to cousins.
SENIOR LOGISTICS ENGINEER.
Bradley looked at the caller.
TITAN FREIGHT CORPORATE.
He answered.
“Prescott.”
A woman spoke.
“Mr. Prescott, this is Amelia Grant from the Office of the Board Secretary.”
Bradley frowned.
“Why are you calling me at this hour?”
“To notify you that effective immediately your executive access to Titan Freight systems and facilities has been suspended pending investigation.”
Bradley laughed.
“What investigation?”
“Employment practices.”
“Financial controls.”
“Potential policy violations.”
“Who authorized this?”
“The special committee of the board acting at the direction of Titan’s controlling shareholder.”
Bradley stopped smiling.
“Richard Callaway?”
“Chairman Callaway is coordinating implementation.”
“I’ll call him.”
“You may.”
Bradley stood.
Todd watched.
Craig noticed his face.
The woman continued.
“You are not authorized to access the Atlanta facility, company servers, payroll systems, or personnel files until further notice.”
“This is my branch.”
“No, sir.”
The sentence was quiet.
“Titan Freight Corporation owns the branch.”
Bradley gripped his glass.
“Who is the controlling shareholder?”
“You will receive written notice.”
“Tell me now.”
A pause.
“Aaron Darnell Young.”
Bradley did not understand immediately.
The brain often rejects information that requires rewriting too much reality at once.
“What?”
“Aaron Young holds controlling voting interest through the shares transferred from founder Reginald Young’s estate.”
Bradley sat down.
Craig approached.
“What happened?”
Bradley waved him away.
The board secretary continued.
“Formal notices will be delivered electronically and by courier.”
The call ended.
Bradley stared at his phone.
Todd leaned forward.