They were already setting up for Friday morning’s victory party.

I reached into my coat pocket and took out the folded revocation Arthur had stamped four hours earlier.

I refolded it carefully and slipped it into the inside pocket of my jacket beside my wallet.

The cash lockbox under the garage floor back at the mansion was empty now, every dollar either spent or put exactly where it needed to be.

I’d spent thirty years building an empire by keeping my hands on every truck, every route and every dollar that crossed a state line.