“Arthur always suspects the people closest to him when he fails to understand a situation,” I said.

“He tried to access the offshore accounts this morning,” Gregory said. “The ones for the port authority officials. He couldn’t get the verification codes.”

“Of course he couldn’t,” I said. “The physical tokens are in my desk, and the backup codes are stored in a secure drive that requires a voiceprint he doesn’t have.”

Gregory sank into the small wooden chair by the kitchen table without asking.

He looked at his hands, which were red from the cold.

“He doesn’t know how to run the docks, Clara,” Gregory whispered. “He thinks he can just threaten the union leaders like he used to.”

“The union leaders only tolerate Arthur because I ensured their pension funds were protected from his gambling debts,” I said.

“They’re refusing to unload the shipments from Colombia,” Gregory said. “There are three freighters sitting in the harbor right now, costing us fifty thousand dollars a day in fines.”

“That is Arthur’s problem, not mine,” I said, leaning against the counter.

“It’s about to be everyone’s problem,” Gregory said.