Chapter 12 - Gemma's Last Audit
The plan required everyone to believe Daniel was dead.
Again.
He found that less amusing than I did.
At 8:40 a.m., a controlled leak reached two people inside Morrow security.
A vehicle had crashed near Fox River.
One unidentified male deceased.
Daniel's abandoned identification conveniently found nearby.
No public announcement.
No police record.
Just information placed exactly where Marcus Vale would hear it.
“If Marcus works for Atlas, he'll tell Catherine,” I said.
“Or whoever Catherine answers to,” Declan replied.
We still didn't know her role.
That mattered.
Victim.
Participant.
Controller.
Everybody was guilty of something.
Nobody was proven guilty of everything.
At 9:17, Catherine texted again.
11:00 A.M.
FLOOR 34.
NO SECURITY.
I looked at Declan.
“She's confident.”
“Or desperate.”
“Same problem.”
I spent the next hour doing what I understood.
Accounting.
If my father had hidden something inside the ledger, I couldn't access the ledger itself.
But I could reconstruct his thinking.
Thomas Cole loved patterns.
When I was ten, he taught me multiplication tables using grocery receipts.
When I was twelve, he taught me to spot billing errors because, according to him, “trust is nice, checking is better.”
He had built a failsafe eighteen years ago.
It wouldn't be dramatic.
It would be accounting.
I opened the surviving transactions.
Small payments.
$400.
$317.
$53.
$18.
Then I stopped.
Fifty-three.
My lateness.
Coincidence.
Maybe.
I searched.
There were 53-dollar payments scattered through the old data.
Always immediately before major commands.
“Declan.”
He came over.
“Fifty-three appears nineteen times.”
“So?”
“Not an amount.”
“What?”
“A reference.”
I sorted dates.
53.
54.
55.
Another set.
11.
12.
13.
Numbers that looked like money could be coordinates inside records.
I converted transaction values into page and line references using my father's original reports.
Page 53.
Line 317 didn't exist.
Wrong.
Then dates.
5/3.
3/17.
1/8.
No.
I stared.
Dad always told me the same thing.
When numbers don't add up, you're asking them the wrong question.
Not amounts.
Not dates.
IDs.
Employee numbers?
Property codes?
Then I remembered his old habit.
Books.
My father wrote notes in margins constantly.
Mom hated it.
He said blank margins were wasted real estate.
The file in Declan's safe contained seventeen pages.
But numbering began at page 4.
Meaning pages 1 through 3 were missing.
“Where did Patrick get the file?”
Declan shrugged.
“Old archive.”
“Original?”
“Probably.”
I examined the binding.
Pages had been removed.
Three.
I asked Adrian whether Thomas left other material.
“One book.”
“What book?”
He retrieved it from a storage case.
An old copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
Of course.
Dad loved it.
The margins were full of notes.
I almost cried again.
Instead, I worked.
53.
Page 53.
Line?
There were handwritten numbers beside certain paragraphs.
317 wasn't line.
It was three-one-seven.
Third paragraph.
First sentence.
Seventh word.
I tried it.
The word was: Catherine.
My blood went cold.
Next code.
18.
Page 18.
But needed three digits.
18.
Zero didn't work.
Maybe 1-8.
First paragraph, eighth word.
No.
We tested every marker.
Eventually words emerged.
CATHERINE DID NOT CREATE ATLAS.
I sat back.
Declan stared.
My father had hidden a sentence inside transaction values.
We continued.
CATHERINE PROTECTED DECLAN.
Another.
PATRICK USED DANIEL.
Another.
SHELDON KNOWS CLAIRE.
Then:
THE FOURTH ANCHOR IS NOT A MORROW.
“What does that mean?” Declan asked.
I searched for more.
One final message.
IF I DIE ASK GEMMA TO AUDIT THE AUDITOR.
I stared.
“That's me.”
“No,” Declan said.
“You weren't an auditor at fifteen.”
I looked at him.
He was right.
Who audited my father's work?
The compliance firm.
I searched his employment record.
Thomas Cole reported to a senior partner.
Name:
Walter Reed.
Dead.
Above Reed was managing director—
I stopped.
“No.”
Declan leaned closer.
“What?”
I turned the laptop.
The managing director of my father's firm in 2008 was Marcus Vale.
Not security professional Marcus Vale?
Same birth date.
Same man.
Before joining Morrow security, Marcus had been an accountant.
He had audited the auditor.
“He knew my father.”
Declan's face hardened.
“He never told me.”
“Marcus left accounting three months after Dad died.”
“Joined Morrow when?”
“2009.”
Daniel stood.
“The year I disappeared.”
Everything connected.
Marcus had access to Thomas's findings.
He could see what my father knew.
He later entered the Morrow organization.
Eventually took control of internal security.
Every camera.
Every access log.
Every private movement.
“Fourth anchor,” I whispered.
Not a Morrow.
Marcus.
But was he Atlas?
Maybe.
Declan called Adrian.
“Find everything.”
Within thirty minutes, we found the first proof.
Marcus Vale had authorized one of the shell companies my father flagged.
Not as security chief.
As a financial auditor.
Eighteen years ago.
“He's been inside this from the beginning,” I said.
Declan looked toward Morrow Tower.
“Then Catherine may not be controlling him.”
“She may be trapped.”
Just like Sheldon.
Just like Patrick.
Just like everyone.
At 10:54, Declan and I entered Morrow Tower through the executive garage.
No visible security.
That was more frightening than guards.
The elevator rose toward thirty-four.
My crutches clicked against the polished floor.
Declan looked at me.
“Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“That's your pep talk?”
“Nervous people pay attention.”
The elevator slowed.
I reached for his hand before I realized I was doing it.
He looked down.
Didn't comment.
His fingers closed around mine.
The doors opened.
Catherine Morrow stood alone at the far end of the corridor.
Elegant.
Calm.
My encrypted phone rested on the table beside her.
“Hello, Declan.”
His hand released mine.
“Mother.”
She looked at me.
“Gemma.”
“Mrs. Morrow.”
“Your father had terrible timing too.”
I stiffened.
Declan stepped forward.
“Where is Marcus?”
Catherine smiled sadly.
“Closer than you think.”
The elevator doors closed behind us.
Locks clicked.
Then the lights changed.
Red.
A voice came through the ceiling speakers.
Marcus Vale.
“Good morning.”
Catherine closed her eyes.
I understood immediately.
She wasn't waiting for us.
She was bait.
Marcus continued.
“Gemma, please bring the phone to Declan.”
I stared at the encrypted device.
“Why?”
May you like
“Because we're going to finish the audit your father started.”
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