Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting slatted shadows across the oak floor of the office.
Shane sat on a dark brown leather sofa, meticulously organizing documents on the mahogany coffee table before him.
Several crisp, pristine papers were neatly arranged; the business license issued by the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs bore sharp edges, the faint scent of fresh ink lingering in the quiet room.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Shane looked up calmly, his gaze meeting the three men who entered.
Volker approached first, and Shane handed him a small stack of documents. "Take a look at these first," he said.
Volker opened the coated paper cover, revealing a gilded letter of appointment:
"To: Mr. Volker Markovsky Novaka, this company is honored to appoint you as Manager of East Coast United Warehousing and Freight Company..."
His fingertip traced the raised steel seal at the bottom, gleaming solemnly in the morning light.
Mikhail's back straightened as he read his own letter: "Mikhail Kowalski, Warehouse Security Inspector." A faint twitch betrayed his pride.
Vik stared at his appointment: "Vik Lane, Financial Audit Specialist." His fingers lingered on the fine edges of the paper, impressed despite himself.
"Time is tight," Shane said, "and some details still need fine-tuning. I'll handle them." He reached into his suit and produced three brass keys, letting them clink against the table.
"These are the apartment keys on Water Street. Everything you need has already been prepared."
The three men exchanged glances, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in their eyes. Shane continued, calm and assured:
"All documents are verified by a lawyer; they can withstand scrutiny."
Points of reflected light danced across Volker's hand as he repeatedly confirmed the seal's authenticity.
Mikhail chuckled softly, tracing the gilded text. "The last formal document I received was for my marriage registration," he muttered, voice tinged with nostalgia.
Shane then picked up the business license, the paper rustling softly. "East Coast United Warehousing and Freight Co., Ltd." the gold lettering read clearly.
Volker hesitated. "A freight company? We don't… have experience." His tone carried a flicker of doubt.
A low whistle from the port outside made the windowpanes vibrate.
Shane turned, observing the morning mist as cargo ships slowly approached the dock, cranes rising and falling like steel arms.
"Look at them," he said, voice carrying across the room. "Every cargo hold holds opportunity. And now, you have a chance to open those holds again."
The three men took their seats. Shane collected the license from Volker and spoke with measured authority:
"This company is legitimate in every official record. No one will question your operations."
The room fell silent as Shane held up three fingers, leaning forward:
"A legitimate business has three advantages:
1. The police won't come looking for trouble.
2. Tax authorities help maintain orderly accounts.
3. Most importantly… it makes our competitors lower their guard."
He opened a black briefcase, pushing it toward Volker. The scent of fresh inked bills filled the air. Inside, six bundles of hundred-dollar bills gleamed in the sunlight.
"This is more than startup capital—sixty thousand dollars in total. I'll keep twenty thousand for myself; the rest will fund company operations," Shane explained. "As for the remaining special cargo… once the company stabilizes, we'll handle it gradually."
He paused, then added: "Regarding equity distribution, the lawyer has already finalized everything."
Volker's hand trembled as he gripped the license. "You've given us new lives," he said hoarsely, "but… you don't plan to stay, do you?"
Silence filled the office. Mikhail fiddled with a cigarette, while Vik adjusted his tight collar nervously. Shane let the pause linger, then offered a warm, confident smile.
He stood, placing a reassuring hand on Volker's shoulder. "Remember when you begged for medicine to save Vik? I knew then you could shoulder any responsibility. This confirms it—you can run this company."
His gaze swept across Mikhail and Vik, then rested on the busy port outside. "This is just the first step of our cooperation, the beginning of understanding each other better. I expect your full effort."
Seagulls cried outside, softening the tense atmosphere.
Volker bowed slightly, deep in thought, while Mikhail and Vik exchanged puzzled glances.
Shane moved to the window, his silhouette framed by morning light. "I have a… special objective. One that ensures our leverage and safe retreat. In a month, I want a full dock integration plan, including cooperation with the port authority and customs."
He turned, fixing Volker with his grey-blue eyes. "Tomorrow, you'll receive the organizational chart, management regulations, and customs records from the past three years. If anything is unclear, come to me. From this moment, you are the masters of this office."
Shane's figure receded down the corridor. The three men remained, staring at one another. Mikhail gripped Volker's wrist:
"Volker… what exactly does Mr. Cassidy want us to do?"