Ch. 6 Irrelevant Trust

Beta: Stacyo72 and maxandmo

EPOV

Timeline Reminder: This chapter opens around the beginning of February. The trial is underway and the prosecution has just rested.

"Edward, have you printed the projections for the first quarter financial statements?"

My head snaps up as my father walks into my office followed by Jenks and our CPA. As the only member of the family with a business education, I've taken over Bella's old role as Controller for Cullen Conglomerated. I glance from my computer screen over to the pile of paper covering the top of my printer like snow on a ski chalet's roof.

"Almost done, Dad. I just need to have Alice collate and bind the copies for the meeting."

I avoid making eye contact. Ironically, I'm the one who preferred to have these meetings earlier in the day but my father insists on attending Bella's trial. He and my mother have been there every day since it began last month. He thinks it's important for the people watching to remember that Bella and Floyd stole from real flesh and blood human beings and not just a big pharmaceutical corporation. I still can't bring myself to sit in that courtroom and listen while the whole world discovers how badly I've been humiliated.

I turn my attention away from the twinkling lights of the Seattle night skyline outside my windows. I should have finished these reports an hour ago but my mind kept traveling back to my prison visit with Bella four weeks earlier. I kept expecting her to drop the charade. I wanted her to tell me that she was the succubus who had lured me in while she sucked the life out of me. Yet, despite my sister Rose's over the top performance designed to draw Bella out, she never dropped the act. I almost felt sorry for Bella, sitting there trying to hide the fact that she was shackled to a table, while Rose hurled insult after insult upon her with such intensity that she actually spit when she spoke.

Even when I had Rose leave so I could speak to Bella alone, she still insisted on her innocence. She never stopped proclaiming her love for me and she threw in the one piece of the puzzle that still causes me to falter in my recovery- J.J. I know what everyone says. They believe that she only came back to the states to get J.J. and then would have left with him and met up with Floyd. Jenks had jumped on the fact that Bella had originally wanted to take J.J. on our trip to Switzerland but I had persuaded her to leave him home. Jenks said it was proof that she planned to disappear once she had the funds in hand. Floyd could have been there somewhere. No one knows exactly when he left the country. He had called in sick the morning after Bella and I left for Switzerland and that was the last anyone had heard from him. She must have either given him the money or made arrangements to deposit it somewhere he could access it. The damned Swiss banks and their secrecy protections made it impossible to determine where it went after she left the bank wearing the Bogner jacket I bought her.

"Is this everything here, Edward? I'll start sorting them right now?"

Alice breezes in and grabs the pile of papers off the printer. I chewed out Alice for the debacle with Bella's prison letters but I can never stay angry with her for long. She, probably more than anyone else besides my parents, has always had my best interests at heart. Plus, I'm a sucker for crying girls and once she turned on the waterworks, I practically begged her to forgive me for yelling at her. I ended up asking her to help me in the office. As strange as it is to have her working at Cullen as an unpaid executive assistant, it's also comforting. She's still looking for a paid position somewhere but until then she's gotten real work experience that doesn't involve matching Prada accessories, and Cullen has received help it sorely needs but can't afford.

I mumble my thanks as she brings the pile over to my conference table and speedily collates. The sound of her Swingline crisply stapling each set of reports echoes through my office. Within minutes she's handed report packets to everyone and is closing the door behind her.

We meet for over two hours. I force myself to focus on the questions the CPA is asking me. Our corporate tax returns are due in mid-March and my father has never liked to put returns on extension, preferring to pay what he owes as soon as possible. Of course, last year ended with a huge loss so there won't be any money owed to the I.R.S. The figures roll from my lips as though I'm a mathematics automaton. We breeze through the year-end figures and turn our attention to those first quarter projections. Jenks and Dad nod whenever I respond. My business acumen is about the only part of me where I still feel confident. The reparations plan Bella and I had hammered out months ago is right on schedule.

"With the unexpected goodwill earned from the publicity over the intentional swindling of the Cullen family, the stock price for Cullen Conglomerated has risen faster than expected. If the current value holds through the end of the March, Cullen will show a gain for the first time in three quarters." I conclude, finishing my presentation with the only good news to come out of the entire Bella Swan fiasco.

"Is it enough to hire back some of our support staff?" my father asks. I know my mother has been adamant that Shelley Cope and a few of the other older administrative assistants be rehired as soon as we can afford them.

"We might be able to swing one or even two re-hires if they're part-time, but we still can't afford salaries plus benefits for a full-time staff. Alice has been doing a great job. She really has outstanding organizational skills," I reply.

In many ways Alice should have been the least prepared to handle our new reality yet she has flourished where most would have struggled. After we finish the meeting, I watch my dad escort our CPA out of my office, shutting the door behind her. I'm gathering my reports in a pile when my father reaches out and places his hand on my arm, stilling my motions.

"Edward, have a seat, there's something else we need to discuss." I lower myself back down, unsure of the look that passes between Jenks and my father.

My father nods to Jenks who walks over to my door and opens it, calling to someone in the hall. A tall broad-shouldered dark skinned man walks in behind him. I study him carefully, sizing him up the way males of all species instinctively do when they sense a competitor. He has a confident gait, giving him an aura of accomplishment. This is someone who is good at what he does and he knows it. If I had to guess, I'd say he's in his mid-twenties. He's wearing a suit that most men our age couldn't afford. I know because I used to wear the same thing: a custom fit Gucci. I automatically roll my shoulders in my stiff, scratchy off-the-rack Stafford suit jacket.

"Edward this is Max. He is a security specialist Jenks and I hired."

For a second I'm confused until I realize that my father doesn't mean stocks and bonds- i.e. securities, but rather security as in protection and safety. I also don't miss that my father has omitted Max's surname in our introductions.

"Oh?" My tone reflects the curiosity Max's arrival has generated.

"Max has been investigating any possible motives James Floyd and Bella may have had."

I snort. "Dad, don't waste what's left of my inheritance. They wanted money and they took ours. It's plain and simple."

Jenks coughs while my father sighs and shoots me a look of paternal annoyance.

"Edward, think about it. They didn't just empty our piggy bank. They went to great lengths to destroy this company. The letter in the Supreme Court case was a forgery that they undoubtedly planted."

I sit as still as possible in my chair, determined not to squirm like a three year old being chastised for stealing a cookie.

"Sorry, you're right. I was being short-sighted."

My dad nods, satisfied by my admission of absolute stupidity. He turns his attention to Max. "What do you have so far?"

Max opens the brown leather briefcase discreetly stamped with the Louis Vuitton logo. Christ, that's a six thousand dollar bag. Apparently there's good money in being a security specialist. Maybe I should consider a career change. He removes a laptop and three bound reports, handing one to each of us.

Within minutes, Max has the laptop connected to the fifty two inch monitor mounted on the wall opposite the conference table. Two pictures of letters, side by side appear. I recognize one as the infamous Supreme Court case letter. The other is a letter written by my great-grandfather, addressed to my great-grandmother. The date is December 9, 1941, the day he joined the Navy as a fighter pilot. The signatures look very similar to my untrained eye.

"Mr. Cullen, as you know, these are the samples submitted as evidence in the Newton vs. Cullen Conglomerated case. The experts weren't able to agree as to whether or not the signature on the letter in question was authentic or not, when compared to this other letter which is an official part of the Cullen Family Archives in the MOHAI, the Museum of History and Industry," he adds, glancing toward me.

I nod, trying not to look smug. Of course I'm familiar with the museum since we have our own wing. Max continues, again addressing my father.

"You know that this letter, along with two others from the World War Two period, was chosen for comparison by the prosecution. I found it odd that they didn't pick a letter closer to 1964, the date of the tobacco company letter, so I did a bit of research myself and found something interesting. In late 1963, your grandfather was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease."

My father nods. "Yes, it was his diagnosis that spurred Cullen to become a leader in the development of drugs to treat the disease."

"Yet at the same time, very few people outside of his inner circle knew of the diagnosis." Max interjects.

"He didn't want his competitors thinking Cullen was weak so he became a bit of a recluse, working from home and avoiding social engagements."

"Correct. Because of that, I had a hard time finding an original sample of his handwriting from 1964. However, I did manage to find a letter signed by him in the S.E.C. archive in Washington D.C. Take a look."

Max moves the mouse and a new scan appears on the screen. The once fluid script of the previous letters has been replaced by a shaky, jagged signature. Max takes his time, pointing to various loops and letters, showing us where, despite the shakiness, the penmanship retains some of its original qualities. The most striking fact though is that the sample of my great-grandfather's signature was markedly different in 1964 from his signature twenty years earlier.

"Okay, so his real signature in 1964 shouldn't match his earlier signatures. The prosecution was negligent but so in fact was the defense," I turn my attention to Jenks, our corporate attorney for over two decades. "Someone should have caught the error."

Jenks eyebrows furrow as he catches my unsubtle insinuation. "Edward, you know that I was on the team for the Supreme Court case but I wasn't the lead attorney. Corporate attorneys don't necessarily make the best defenders. We had a very capable trial attorney who's tried many cases before the Supreme Court and who has an excellent track record. However, we were at a loss to find any writing samples at the time that were dated after 1960. We scoured the Cullen archives and the MOHAI archives; all of your grandfather's records were missing, they had simply disappeared. The staff did a lot of finger pointing and blaming but there was nothing left. So, we repeatedly requested documents from the various Federal agencies- the S.E.C., the I.R.S., even the National archives. We were told there were no documents in their possession from that time period."

I glance across at Max and the document he has produced. "But that came from the S.E.C.?"

Max smiles. "I have alternate methods of retrieving evidence."

"Christ, can we even use that if it's stolen?" I hiss.

Jenks splays his fingers in front of his rotund belly and moves them up and down, signaling me to calm down. "Edward, don't assume things. Remember, Cullen did keep records of all its S.E.C. filings. This was missing from our files but happened to turn up recently."

I roll my eyes but drop that line of questioning. Something else has occurred to me.

"You think that Bella and Floyd destroyed our copies of these documents and that the prosecution was bought off?" I ask, starting to get back on my game.

The others all nod in assent.

"We can't just go to the Supreme Court and suggest that one of their federal attorneys is crooked. Do we have any proof of which one it could have been?"

"I'm still investigating but I've good reason to believe that the senior attorney on the case may have been the guilty party. He retired immediately after that case and since then has been living on a yacht in the Grand Caymans. None of his assets in the U.S. would suggest he could maintain such a lifestyle."

My father raises his eyebrows. "Are you certain? Attorneys, even federal employees make a good living at that stage of their careers. A yacht should be affordable."

Max turns his full attention to my father, his deep brown eyes crinkle at the corners, making him seem suddenly much more mature. "Mr. Cullen, this isn't some weekend pleasure craft. This ship has a helicopter pad and a crew of twelve."

"Okay, so he was bought off, but we still don't know who did it. In fact, it was before Bella and James Floyd stole our money so it couldn't have been by either of them." I argue. The hair on my arms stands at attention, there's something more to this.

"That brings me to the next part of my findings. Obviously, James Floyd was an alias. The police and FBI have been unsuccessful in finding any information using the fingerprint and DNA evidence they have gathered. He has no criminal record. Additionally, career con-artists usually thrive on gaining prestige and status among other of their profession by pulling off bigger and bigger cons but none of my contacts in that world have ever heard of anyone matching Floyd's description. The size and scope of this operation took years to plan and execute. Floyd was supposedly in his late twenties to early thirties, thirty-one if his employment file is to be believed. Cullen had to have been on his radar for a specific reason. I began to dig around in the company's employment files to see if perhaps someone his age might have a reason to hold a grudge against Cullen. There was nothing so I dug back further, looking for any disgruntled employees. I found something interesting, have a look."

Max clicks the mouse and we're looking at an old photo of three men in lab coats. I recognize one of the men as my great-grandfather. He looks to be in his mid-forties, which would date the photo from the mid-fifties. The other two men are younger- perhaps late twenties or early thirties. One is tall and slender with dark hair and a thin mustache. The other man is an average height and build, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. His likeness to James Floyd is unmistakable. Max addresses my father again.

"This photo was taken in 1957. Your grandfather's standing with two of his top researchers, Alistair Clark and Floyd Jamison."

My father sits up at attention. "Floyd Jamison?"

He looks to me and I nod to indicate my understanding. This is it, the reason.

"Approximately two years after this picture was taken, Cullen patented a new, more effective strain of antibiotics. The medicine saved countless lives and increased Cullen's profits exponentially. Clark was credited with the discovery and received a percentage of the company's revenue and became a very wealthy man. Jamison accused Clark of stealing his formulations which lead to a feud between the two. Jamison became increasingly erratic and paranoid. He alleged that members of his own staff were sabotaging his experiments. He was convinced that Cullen had spies following him. The downward spiral continued and he was fired after he attacked one of his lab assistants. He was eventually diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and committed to the state mental institution where he died in 1965. An autopsy found several hemangioblastomas- brain tumors including one that was over 9 centimeters - that were most likely the cause for his psychotic episodes. The coroner concluded that Jamison suffered from Von Hippel Lindau disease- a rare genetic disorder that causes brain tumors and kidney cancer among other problems. However, his widow refused to accept the facts and in turn blamed Cullen Conglomerated, saying the chemicals he worked with at the company caused all his problems. She and her children unsuccessfully sued Cullen in 1973. She never stopped blaming the Cullen family for what happened to her husband. "

"If he died in 1965 then James Floyd can't be Floyd Jamison's son?"

"No, Jamison had two daughters, Maggie and Siobhan. Maggie still lives in the area. She is in her early sixties now. She's married with two grown daughters and three grandchildren. She and one of her daughters have been diagnosed with VHL but due to research advances, they are successfully living with the disease. The other daughter, Siobhan, did the hippie thing: lived on a commune in Oregon for a while in the seventies. Then she did a complete reverse course and worked as a stock broker on Wall Street starting with the eighties boom. She married and later divorced. She had one child, a son named Jason Floyd Chase. Siobhan lost everything during the dot com bust, and committed suicide. Jason found her body when he arrived home from school. His father had died of a heart attack the previous year. Jason was then raised by his grandmother, Floyd Jamison's widow, until her death in 2002."

Max clicks another button and a picture of a teenage James Floyd appears on the screen. He's young and scrawny but the eyes are the same- cold and almost devoid of emotion.

"Christ." I mutter under my breath. "So he was raised by his grandmother who hated us?"

"Thank you, Max this explains many, many things." My father nods, a grim look on his face. "However, Edward is correct. There's no way James Floyd, or Bella Swan could have bought off a Federal judge."

Max nods, his eyes reflecting the same grim look in my father's.

"I have reason to suspect that Floyd was assisted in his vendetta against your family by another party, perhaps a business rival. They funded his project in exchange for him delivering up Cullen Conglomerated on a silver platter."

"Who?" I ask. There are several firms in our field with deep pockets.

"Volturi Pharmaceuticals."

"Those bastards."

My father's voice is as cold and hard as I've ever heard it. Despite being business competitors, Carlisle Cullen has always considered Aro Volturi a personal friend. My father had been so grateful to Aro when he offered to purchase our R&D line for Volturi. The influx of cash from the sale had saved Cullen Conglomerated, although we're not out of the woods by any stretch of the imagination. I watch my father lean his elbows on the table and rub his temples. I'm again struck by how much the events of the past few months have aged him. Bella's trial will end in just a few weeks. Until just a few minutes ago, I had hoped that once she's convicted, my family could achieve a sense of completion and we could put this behind us. Now, I know it won't be finished until we find James Floyd a.k.a. Jason Chase and deal with Volturi as well.

I turn back to Max. "You said you suspect. Does that mean you don't have proof?"

Max smiles grimly. "Not yet. I have a source inside the Fortress," he states, referring to the nickname for Volturi corporate headquarters.

I snort derisively. "What makes you think this source can be trusted?"

"Unlike some, Mr. Cullen, I make sure I thoroughly know my associates' backgrounds and motivations before I give them my confidence."

I could swear I saw a smirk on Max's face but it's gone in a nanosecond. Still, I'm well aware of what he's not so subtly inferred. If there's a gullible fool in the room, it's me, not him.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose while I count to ten to keep my composure. I remind myself that this guy is actually on our side. I take a breath and ask the question I've been dreading.

"What about Bella Swan? How does she fit into this picture?"

With a few clicks of his mouse, Max brings up a picture of a young Bella on the screen. I've seen this one before. It's her Senior Yearbook picture. I purposely focus my attention on Max rather than the screen beyond him

"I'm sure you've been following her trial. The prosecution has does a thorough job of establishing Bella Swan's motivations. I didn't feel the need to delve further into that although I did try to establish when she and Jason Chase first met."

Max clicks again and the screen is split into black and white pictures of Bella and Floyd- Jason Chase. Both look to be in their early twenties.

"These were taken from the same UW student directory. Bella was in graduate school while Chase was an undergrad in the accounting program. I can't establish a direct link since they didn't have any classes together but it's very plausible that their paths crossed somehow. UW had a population of approximately forty thousand students at that time. However, since they had the same major, their classes were held in the same building."

"So that's it. You think she knew him the whole time and that this was something they planned together for years."

"Yes, although it's hard to say when and how Volturi came into the picture. It could be that as a result of working here. The pair observed that Volturi were your chief rivals and they went to Volturi with the proverbial silver platter."

My father mumbles under his breath before he addresses Max and Jenks. "Thank you both. I assume the authorities have already been informed of your findings?"

Jenks nods. "Somewhat. We've provided them with all of the information pertinent to the current investigation against Jason Chase. Unfortunately, even though we have solved the mystery of his past, we have no idea where he may be. He isn't close to any of his remaining family. He fits the profile of the classic loner- bright but an underachiever, and somewhat aloof. He was an average student and an average athlete with no outstanding characteristics. Most of his fellow classmates couldn't recall him at all. He's very good at blending in and not being noticed."

"Still, he's sitting on our entire family fortune, over two hundred million dollars. He can't remain inconspicuous forever." My father uncharacteristically snips. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling the ends in frustration the same way I do.

Jenks remains calm. "Carlisle, he will make a mistake. You're right, that kind of money can't remain hidden under a mattress. He'll start spending and when he does, we'll find him," he reassures my father.

Dad nods and turns back to Max. "We'll wait to hear from you about the Volturi involvement before we pursue overturning the Supreme Court Verdict. I don't think I- or any of us- could bear dealing with two trials right now anyway."

A/N: I know you want the confrontation. The good news is most of it is written! I just need to finish it up and get it to my betas. So, there should be another chapter posting on Sunday night or Monday. Until then, if you have Starz, watch Outlander tomorrow night. Jamie Fraser will make you ask Edward who? I've received some criticism for the way the story jumps back and forth and I don't disagree, it's a very fair point. However, I do want to remind you that this story was originally written as a contest entry and it had to conform to the word limits of the contest. I feel that in order to move the story forward, I need to go back and fill in the blanks. Once the story is complete, I'd like to re-edit the chapters so that it flows continuously. This is the last of the fill in chapters. The next chapter opens on the day Garrett tells Edward about the cloud backup and moves straight through to Bella and Edward's "talk" after her release. I hope you'll stick with me and enjoy the ride. xo Shelly