11.
TWO DAYS LATER, THE THIRTIETH of October, 2017, Millbrook, New York, the sun was almost in the midst of its morning climb, and the shadows from the spruce trees along the perimeter of the lawn were becoming shorter. Patches of fog had mottled the hills beyond the property several hours earlier when Patrick Brashner had sat brooding at the table in front of the large window that faced southeast out of the mansion’s library. The night before, he’d not slept well, his mind racing through scenarios about the Global Trading deal. He needed the deal to close so he could have his payday. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to pay the short-term loans incurred to finance the recent renovations to the mansion. All of his earnings from the law firm went to pay for his lavish lifestyle, the club due
