“We have the ledger from the docks,” the lead prosecutor, a man named Harris, said.

He pushed a thick manila folder toward me.

“We also have the testimonies of twelve of your captains,” Harris added.

“They are trying to save their own skins,” I said, my voice dry.

“They are succeeding,” Harris said. “But we are not interested in them. We want the network.”

“And what about my nephew?” I asked, looking at Marcus, who sat next to me with his head bowed.

“If you cooperate, Marcus goes free,” Harris said. “No charges, no record, a clean slate.”

“He was involved in the shipping fraud,” I said.

“We can make that disappear,” Harris said. “But you have to sign the full disclosure.”

I looked at the pen lying on the table between us.

It was a cheap plastic pen with a blue cap.

My legacy was worth millions, and it was going to be ended by a ten-cent pen.

“If I sign,” I said, “what happens to the estate?”

“It will be seized under federal forfeiture laws,” Harris said. “The docks, the warehouse, the corporate headquarters. All of it.”