First Wharf
Vinson lowered his eyes as he snorted, making it less apparent to the observer how he really felt about
it.
Just as Derek was fretting, Vinson replied, “I’ll accept it. Tell Mr. Larson that I’ll meet him at the First
Wharf at eight tonight.”
Derek’s eyes lit up, and he bowed profusely under the impression that Vinson had relented.
“Thank you for your magnanimity, Mr. Nightshire. You truly are a gracious man. In that case, I shan’t
continue to impose. Let me go back to inform Mr. Larson of this right away.”
With a wave of his hand, Vinson bade Derek farewell.
Once Rayson had shown Derek out, he turned back into the office. “Why did you accept this thing?”
Vinson snorted in response and a cold glint flashed across his eyes.
“Since it’s already been brought here, wouldn’t it be hard for him to answer to his superiors were I to
send him back with it?”
Rayson seemed confused.
Vinson’s not that accommodating a person, especially not to a business rival.
As expected, Vinson followed up very quickly. “Pick that vase up and have it couriered to Jadeborough,
double-quick time. Address it to the deputy captain of the Specialized Forces. He’ll know what to do
next.”
Rayson’s eyes lit up once he understood Vinson’s intentions.
Graft was no trivial matter, particularly in the case of Trevor Larson who was more than just the
chairman of Larson Group; he also happened to be a minor player serving in Horington’s public office.
Company matters aside, this vase by itself is sufficient to land Trevor in prison for a good couple of
years, at least.
“Understood!” Rayson bowed in anticipation and hugged the vase as he went on to have it sent out.
While this was happening, Trevor received a call from Derek on his end.
“Are you saying that he has accepted it?” The thrill was palpable in Trevor’s inflection as he spoke.
Afraid that Vinson might turn down the vase and be adamant against making acquisitions from him, he
had been in jitters all this while. With the acceptance of the gift, Vinson’s sentiments are now plain to
see.
“Yes, Mr. Larson.” Derek, too, expressed his relief. “He’s accepted it, and in a seemingly fine spirit too.
Also, he asked for you to be at the First Wharf at eight.”
“The First Wharf?” Trevor sounded doubtful. “Why would he want to meet at the docks?”
“That, I’m not sure of either…” Then, Derek went on to speculate, “Could it be because that’s close to
where your largest warehouse for building materials is located? Maybe he plans to have you sell him
those materials right after your chat?”
“It must be!” Trevor said, slapping his thighs. “Instruct those at the warehouse at the First Wharf to do a
proper stocktake of the building materials, so that they’ll be ready to be picked up as soon as Vinson
arrives.”
“Understood,” Derek assented before he hung up.
Trevor went back and forth inside his own office in sheer delight.
Fantastic. Just fantastic!
All the funds he spent, including that which he had loaned out to bankroll the purchases of the building
materials, could finally be recouped.
Not only would his company be saved, but he might also be able to carve out a massive profit at
Vinson’s expense.
That vase is easily worth twenty million, but it was a twenty million well spent!
Trevor swiftly worked out a number in anticipation of making a killing off of Vinson later in the evening.
Very swiftly, it was seven-thirty at dusk.
Vinson stood by the shores of the First Wharf, immersed in his own thoughts as he cast his gaze
across the peaceful waters.
“Our people and transport are on standby, waiting for the ship to dock, Mr. Nightshire,” Luke reported
after he alighted from the car.
Vinson nodded slightly before he checked his wrist for the time. “We’ve about ten minutes before it
docks.”
“Wonderful!” Luke rubbed his hands in anticipation.
Right then, Rayson hurried toward them. “Trevor Larson has arrived, Mr. Nightshire.”
62fb1bb41dcb31934bd49bda