The back room of the Sterling-Khan Clinic had been converted into a war room–the headquarters of “The Resistance”. William paced the floor while Julian and Maya huddled over a bank of monitors. On the main screen, a video feed from London showed Malcolm Fotheringham, looking pale but alert.
“Look at the footage,” Maya said, pausing the recording of Alistair’s press conference. She zoomed in on his mouth. “He claims he was held in a bunker with minimal resources for ten years. Yet, look at his molars.”
“Porcelain veneers,” Julian noted. “High-end Swiss work. Less than two years old.”
“And the muscle tone,” Malcolm’s voice crackled from the speakers in London. “He hasn’t atrophied. He’s been training. He’s in peak physical condition.”
“He wasn’t a prisoner,” William concluded, staring at the face of his father. “He was a King in hiding. He faked the kidnapping to explain his absence without admitting to the RICO charges.”,
“We know it’s a lie,” Malcolm warned. “But we can’t prove it without exposing the company to criminal liability. He has us checkmated.”