Page 14 of Sly Like a Fox
Anklor saw an opportunity in Dad’s integrity.The municipal contracts that Nelson’s Family Construction had handled for fifteen years represented millions in annual revenue.When Anklor approached Dad about participating in a bid-rigging scheme, offering him a guaranteed share of city projects in exchange for inflated estimates, Dad refused without hesitation.
“If you can’t win a contract on merit,” Dad had told me that night over dinner, “you don’t deserve the work.”
The retaliation was swift and systematic.Within six months, Nelson’s Family Construction stopped winning city bids.Projects they’d handled successfully for years went to companies with higher estimates and questionable track records.When Dad investigated, he discovered Anklor had been spreading rumors about substandard work and delayed completions.The lies were impossible to disprove once they took root in the close-knit municipal contracting community.
I pull up the file I’ve been building on Anklor’s inner circle.Porter Kane, his head of security, is former military with a dishonorable discharge for excessive force.The man has worked for Anklor for eight years, handling everything from intimidating business rivals to making inconvenient problems disappear.His employment record shows a pattern of violence disguised as legitimate security work.
Judge Patricia Vance represents another crucial piece of Anklor’s network.She’s ruled in his favor on fourteen separate occasions despite overwhelming evidence of corruption or breach of contract.Her bank records, which took me six months to access, show regular deposits from shell companies connected to Anklor’s money-laundering operation.The amounts are small enough to avoid automatic scrutiny but consistent enough to represent significant additional income over time.
City Councilman Lorenzo Terella provides the political protection that allows Anklor’s schemes to flourish.His campaign contributions show a suspicious pattern of donations from companies that don’t exist outside of incorporation papers and bank accounts.Terella has voted to approve every municipal contract that benefits Anklor’s interests, often over the objections of city planners and budget analysts.
All of them are complicit in a system that enriches the powerful while crushing honest businesses like the one my father spent thirty years building.
The financial records I’ve compiled paint a clear picture of systematic corruption.Anklor doesn’t just rig individual bids.He’s created an entire ecosystem of graft that funnels public money into private accounts while ensuring that companies like Nelson’s Family Construction can never compete fairly.
I click through surveillance photos taken at various municipal meetings and charity events.Anklor always appears confident and respectable, wearing expensive suits and maintaining political connections that insulate him from consequences.He’s fifty-five years old with silver hair and a commanding presence that dominates any room he enters.
I’ve seen the real Garret Anklor in moments when he thinks no one is watching.The security footage I obtained from a parking garage shows him threatening a construction foreman whose company refused to participate in his schemes.The body language is unmistakable—predatory, intimidating, and completely at odds with his public persona as a civic-minded businessman.
My hands clench involuntarily at the memory of Dad’s final weeks.The stress of bankruptcy proceedings, the humiliation of watching creditors seize equipment, and the knowledge that his life’s work was being dismantled by someone with more money than conscience had broken him down.The coronary came three months after the final bankruptcy hearing, but I know better than to call it natural causes.Dad died of a broken heart, literally and figuratively, since a myocardial infarction struck him down after watching his legacy disappear because he refused to compromise his principles.
Mom never recovered from losing him.She tried to be strong for my sake, but the financial pressure and emotional devastation proved too much.Her health declined rapidly over the eighteen months following Dad’s death, and by the time I realized how serious her condition had become, it was too late to save her.She also suffered a heart attack from the stress of it all.
I shake off the memories and focus on the screen.Emotional thinking leads to mistakes, and I can’t afford mistakes this close to my goal.
The investigation has consumed the last three years of my life, but it’s finally approaching the point where I can act.I’ve documented enough financial irregularities to ensure criminal charges, identified the key players in Anklor’s network, and established the paper trail that connects him to dozens of corrupted municipal contracts.
The challenge is gathering evidence that will hold up in court while avoiding detection by someone who has law enforcement connections throughout the city.Anklor’s network includes police officers, prosecutors, and judges who could warn him if they discover an investigation in progress.
I finally go to bed in the wee hours of the morning, my thoughts returning once more to Jenna.As I drift off, I contemplate how much I’m looking forward to seeing her again.I’m in trouble.That should bother me, but it brings a smile to my face as I drift off.
Themorningbringsareturn to routine.I shower, drink coffee, and return to the façade of Fenton Nielsen’s ordinary life.I have three client meetings scheduled and a conference call about a database upgrade, all before lunchtime.
“Morning, Mr.Nielsen.”Vera waves as I pass her desk.“You have two messages from yesterday evening, and a package arrived early this morning.”
I thank her and check my voicemail while examining the package.One is a client requesting a follow-up meeting, and another is asking about expanding their network security.The package contains promotional materials from a technology vendor.
The day passes in a blur of legitimate work.During a lunch meeting, I practice networking that builds Fenton Nielsen’s reputation while gathering intelligence about potential connections to my target.The conversation covers industry trends, mutual business contacts, and upcoming technology conferences.It’s all surface-level professional interaction that reinforces my cover story.
I don’t let myself think about calling Jenna until five o’clock.The smart play would be to wait at least twenty-four hours, demonstrating appropriate interest without seeming desperate while following standard dating protocols that maintain emotional distance while building rapport.
Instead, I’m dialing her number before I can talk myself out of it.
Her voice carries friendliness that seems genuine.“Hello?”
“Jenna?It’s Fenton.”
“Fenton.”I can hear the smile in her voice.“I was hoping you’d call.”
“I said I would.”
“Men say a lot of things.Following through is rarer than you’d think.”
Fair point and probably true based on her dating experiences.“Would you like to have dinner again?Tomorrow night, maybe?”
“I’d love to.Where?”
“I was thinking somewhere more casual than Coastal.A bistro downtown has excellent food without the formal atmosphere.”
