Page 196 of Broken
The vote was unanimous. Artemis Armstrong was out as CEO.
“We need to nominate an interim CEO,” his cousin, Mel, said, “and I nominate Prescott Armstrong.”
Here we go.
“Thanks, Mel,” he replied.
Someone seconded her nomination. Everyone voted and, just like that, Prescott sat at the helm of a three-hundred-billion-dollar empire.
“Thank you for your confidence,” Prescott said. “There’ll be some changes, but nothing in the immediate future. What questions do you have for me?”
“How are you handling Artemis?” Mel asked.
“By the book,” Prescott replied, “and as low-key as possible. A press release will go out, but it’ll be biz as usual.”
Prescott answered a few more questions, expressed his appreciation to Hershel and Francis, and finished by thanking the board.
While the weight of Armstrong lay on his shoulders, he didn’t have to carry it alone. He was surrounded by thousands of competent, honest employees who loved their jobs. It pained him to let his uncle go, but this was all on Artemis.
On the way back to his office, he called Detective Kealing. “Detective, it’s Prescott Armstrong.”
“Are you calling about an update on your sister’s case?”
“No. I need to speak with a white-collar crime detective. Can you help get me to the right person?”
“What’s going on?”
After he gave her the short version, she said, “Is your life always like this?”
He chuckled. “No, it’s not.”
“I’ll find you someone.” She put him on hold.
Prescott slowed at Francis’s office. “What’s the word?” he asked her.
“I spoke to one of our attorneys. She said she’d follow up with Hershel. Artemis is due back around four.”
“Let me know when he gets here and have security hold him in the lobby,” Prescott said.
“Mr. Armstrong,” Detective Kealing said, “I’m going to transfer you to Detective Chavez.”
“Thanks for your help,” Prescott said.
“This is Detective Chavez. Is this Mr. Armstrong?”
“You got him,” Prescott replied. “Let me bring you up to speed, Detective.”
AT FOUR THIRTY,PRESCOTT got a call from reception. “Artemis is being held by security in the lobby.”
“On my way.” Prescott hung up.
“Babe,” he said to Jack, “I’ll be back.”
She offered an encouraging smile. “You got this.”
Frustration and disappointment coursed through him as he strode toward the elevator. He hated having to do this, but his uncle had left him no choice.
Thirty-minutes earlier, Detective Chavez and two plain-clothes officers had arrived at Armstrong. After setting Prescott up with a wire, they waited in the lobby for Artemis to return.
