Chapter 14 - The Penthouse Lockdown
Marcus shut down the building.
Elevators.
Doors.
Communications.
Lights.
Everything.
But he was eighteen years too late.
Once my father's failsafe triggered, copies began leaving through channels Marcus didn't control.
I didn't know where.
Neither did Catherine.
That was the beauty of the design.
My father hadn't trusted anyone enough to give them the entire plan.
Not Patrick.
Not Daniel.
Not Sheldon.
Not even me.
“Stop the transfer!” Marcus shouted.
I looked at the screen.
“No.”
“Gemma.”
“Still no.”
“You don't understand what you're releasing.”
“That line works better before you break someone's leg.”
“I didn't—”
“Yes, apparently everyone is very innocent about the leg.”
Declan stepped between me and the camera.
“Open the doors.”
Marcus laughed.
“No.”
“Then come here.”
“Tempting.”
Catherine looked toward the records-room ceiling.
“Marcus is on thirty-six.”
Declan turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because that's where Patrick built the original command room.”
Of course there was a secret command room.
I was developing unreasonable expectations for normal families.
Daniel's voice suddenly came through my recovered phone.
“Gemma?”
Signal.
Weak.
“How?”
“Emergency cellular relay.”
“Where are you?”
“Building next door.”
“Marcus locked us in.”
“I know.”
“Helpful.”
“He's trying to evacuate.”
Declan looked upward.
“Roof?”
“Most likely.”
“Stop him.”
“We're moving.”
Catherine grabbed Declan's arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Marcus has contingencies.”
“So do I.”
“He knows yours.”
“Not anymore.”
There was something different in Declan's voice.
He had spent years reacting through systems Marcus controlled.
Security teams.
Vehicles.
Communications.
Now he had Daniel.
Adrian.
Me.
People outside Marcus's map.
Catherine looked at me.
“The records room has a service shaft.”
“Can we reach thirty-six?”
“Yes.”
Declan shook his head.
“You stay.”
I stared.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You remember how our previous discussions about this ended?”
“You have a broken leg.”
“I also have the device Marcus wants.”
“Which is exactly why you stay.”
Catherine surprised us.
“He's right.”
I looked at her.
“Wonderful.”
“For once.”
I hated consensus.
Declan and Catherine entered the service corridor.
I remained in the records room with the phone.
For approximately forty seconds.
Then the far door opened.
Marcus Vale stepped inside.
Of course he did.
He wasn't on thirty-six.
Catherine had been wrong.
Or lied to.
Marcus looked ordinary.
That bothered me.
Mid-fifties.
Gray suit.
No dramatic scar.
No villainous smile.
Just a man who had once approved my expense reports.
He closed the door behind him.
“You are your father's daughter.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“It isn't.”
He looked at the device.
“Give it to me.”
“Transfer already happened.”
“Not all of it.”
I checked the screen.
43%.
He was right.
“How do you know?”
“I helped design parts of the system.”
“With my father?”
“Against him.”
“Did you kill him?”
Marcus sighed.
“You've become fixated.”
“Yes. Daughters do that.”
He stepped closer.
“Thomas died because he refused treatment.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He had a congenital rhythm disorder.”
“He never told us.”
“He barely knew.”
“That doesn't explain you.”
“I arranged for his medication to disappear.”
My blood went cold.
There it was.
Not murder with a weapon.
Something quieter.
Cowardly.
“He had medication?”
“Emergency tablets.”
I remembered a small silver container my father used to carry.
I thought they were antacids.
Marcus continued.
“He experienced symptoms that morning. He reached for medication that wasn't there.”
I couldn't breathe.
“You took it.”
“I had someone remove it.”
“Why?”
“He was going to expose everything.”
“You killed him.”
“I removed an option.”
I stared at him.
“You really think changing the verbs changes what you are?”
That angered him.
Good.
He stepped closer.
“Give me the device.”
“No.”
He reached inside his jacket.
I didn't wait to see what for.
I threw the nearest thing.
A brass desk lamp.
My aim was terrible.
It hit his shoulder.
He swore.
I grabbed one crutch and swung.
The first strike hit his forearm.
The second missed entirely.
He knocked the crutch away.
I stumbled.
My broken leg touched the ground.
Pain exploded.
I screamed.
Marcus caught my coat.
Then the door behind him opened.
Sheldon Farris hit Marcus with a fire extinguisher.
Not gracefully.
Not dramatically.
Just an old man using a heavy object with both hands.
Marcus collapsed.
Sheldon stared down at him.
Then looked at me.
“I believe that partially covers the leg.”
I actually laughed.
Bad idea.
Ribs.
“You're here.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Daniel.”
“Where?”
“Busy ruining Marcus's evacuation plan.”
Sheldon took Marcus's access card.
We locked him inside the records room.
No elaborate revenge.
No violence.
Just a very angry former accountant trapped behind reinforced glass.
The transfer reached 61%.
“What happens at one hundred?” Sheldon asked.
“I don't know.”
“Excellent.”
We left.
Declan met us in the corridor with Daniel and Adrian.
When he saw Marcus behind the glass, he looked at Sheldon.
“You?”
“Yes.”
Declan nodded.
“Nice.”
“Thank you.”
Catherine arrived several seconds later.
She looked at Marcus.
No satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
“It's over.”
Marcus smiled through the glass.
Then held up his own phone.
The screen displayed a countdown.
02:00.
01:59.
Daniel swore.
“What is that?”
Marcus pressed the intercom.
“If Atlas falls, so does Morrow.”
Declan stared.
“What did you do?”
“Every financial institution holding Morrow assets is about to receive evidence tying those assets to criminal enterprises.”
My stomach dropped.
Not fake evidence.
Probably carefully mixed.
Enough truth to make the lies credible.
“If he destroys Declan financially,” I said, “he destroys the company.”
“Tens of thousands of employees,” Catherine whispered.
Marcus smiled.
“Collateral.”
The countdown reached 01:31.
Everyone looked at me.
Because apparently broken accountants were now responsible for saving multinational companies before breakfast.
I opened my laptop.
“What do you need?” Declan asked.
“Everything.”
“Specific.”
“Authority over Morrow financial systems.”
“You have it.”
“Legal authorization?”
“Done.”
“Bank contacts?”
Sheldon handed me his phone.
“On speed dial.”
I began working.
01:12.
Marcus had scheduled disclosure packages.
I couldn't stop outside emails.
But I could make the receiving institutions understand before they arrived.
“Declan.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to do something painful.”
“What?”
“Tell the truth.”
His expression changed.
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
00:48.
“Call every major bank and regulator.”
“And say?”
“That compromised records are coming. Admit there are legitimate historical irregularities. Promise cooperation.”
“That could destroy us.”
“If you hide, Marcus destroys you.”
00:33.
Declan picked up the phone.
He started calling.
No denial.
No threats.
No favors.
Truth.
The countdown reached zero.
Marcus's package transmitted.
Thirty seconds later, my father's device reached 100%.
The screen went black.
Then displayed one final message.
NOTHING SURVIVES AN HONEST AUDIT.
I stared at the words.
Dad.
Even dead, still lecturing.
Then another line appeared.
LEDGER RELEASE COMPLETE.
RECIPIENTS: 42.
Daniel looked at me.
“Who?”
I opened the list.
Federal inspectors.
Journalists.
Internal-affairs divisions.
Courts.
Independent attorneys.
International regulators.
My father had built a dead man's switch with forty-two separate doors.
Marcus stopped smiling.
For the first time since entering the building, he looked afraid.
Then my recovered phone rang.
Unknown.
I answered.
A woman said:
“Ms. Cole, my name is Rebecca Hall with the United States Attorney's Office.”
I looked at Declan.
She continued.
“We've just received a package carrying authentication keys registered to Thomas Cole.”
My throat tightened.
“We need to speak.”
Behind the glass, Marcus Vale sank into the chair.
May you like
And I realized my father had just finished an audit eighteen years after he died.
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