“If the press gets hold of this, our shippers will panic,” I said. “They won’t care who cut the lines. They will only hear that Northline’s trucks are unsafe and that the family is fighting a dirty war in public.”

“You cannot let them keep pressing you,” Malcolm said. “They are desperate. Desperate people do not stop.”

“I know,” I said. “That is why I need to deal with them myself.”

I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the snow accumulation on the ledges of the building opposite us.

“We need a place where there are no reporters, no lawyers, and no distractions,” I said.

“What are you thinking?” Malcolm asked.

“Elliot’s cabin in the mountains,” I said. “It is remote. There is no cell service up there unless you use the landline in the kitchen.”

“You want to lure them there?” Malcolm asked, leaning forward.

“I will invite them to a private meeting,” I said. “I will tell them I am ready to negotiate the sale of Northline to Vanguard.”

“They will believe that,” Malcolm mused. “They think you are overwhelmed.”