Chapter 16 - Farris Makes His Move
Mom looked small in a hospital bed.
I hated that.
Margaret Cole had never looked small in her life.
She was sixty-seven, five-foot-three, and capable of making grown contractors apologize for showing up ten minutes late.
The collapse had been stress.
No heart attack.
No stroke.
Thank God.
She stared at my face.
Then my medical boot.
Then Declan.
“What happened to you?”
“Long story.”
“Try.”
“Later.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I had inherited that expression.
She looked at Declan again.
“You're Patrick Morrow's boy.”
Declan's eyebrows rose.
“You know me?”
“I've seen pictures.”
I pulled a chair closer.
“Mom.”
She looked at me.
“I heard Dad's recording.”
The color left her face.
“What recording?”
“One he left with Daniel Morrow.”
She closed her eyes.
“So Daniel's alive.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
I put my head in my hands.
“Is there anyone who didn't know?”
“You.”
“Thank you.”
Declan moved toward the door.
“I can give you privacy.”
Mom looked at him.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You should hear this too.”
She told us Thomas came home the night before he died.
Terrified.
Not for himself.
For us.
“He told me somebody had built a machine out of people,” she said.
“Atlas.”
“He never used that word.”
“What did he call it?”
“The chain.”
That made sense.
Each person connected to another.
Nobody seeing the whole.
“He wanted us to leave Chicago.”
“Why didn't we?”
“He changed his mind that night.”
“Why?”
“A man came to the house.”
“Who?”
“Sheldon Farris.”
I sat straighter.
Declan did too.
“Sheldon?”
Mom nodded.
“They argued for an hour.”
“About what?”
“Thomas wanted everything made public. Sheldon said that would get people killed.”
I remembered Dad's recording.
He didn't trust Sheldon yet.
Maybe that meeting changed it.
“What happened?”
“Sheldon gave Thomas a list.”
“What list?”
“Names.”
My heartbeat changed.
“The ledger?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is it?”
Mom looked at me.
“I burned it.”
I stared.
“You what?”
“Thomas told me to.”
“Why?”
“Because he copied it somewhere safer.”
The encrypted phone.
Maybe.
“After Sheldon left?”
“Your father received a call.”
“Marcus?”
“I don't know.”
“He went pale.”
“Then?”
“He told me if anything happened, I was never to investigate.”
Of course.
Dad knew us well.
“You listened?”
“For eighteen years.”
I couldn't blame her.
She had a daughter.
No resources.
No protection.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because somebody called this morning.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“Sheldon.”
Declan stepped closer.
“What did he say?”
Mom reached toward the bedside drawer.
Inside was her phone.
One voicemail.
We played it.
Sheldon's voice.
“Margaret, Marcus is exposed, but the network isn't dead. Thomas was right. There is one remaining anchor nobody found. If I don't contact you again, tell Gemma the name is Reed.”
The message ended.
Reed.
Walter Reed.
My father's former senior partner.
Supposedly dead.
I looked at Declan.
“He's dead.”
“Check.”
We did.
Walter Reed died in 2012.
Car accident.
Except—
No body had been publicly identified.
Closed-casket funeral.
I stared at Declan.
“Your family started a trend.”
He didn't laugh.
Federal databases revealed Reed's death certificate had been approved through a physician connected to one of Atlas's shell entities.
Fake.
Another erased man.
But unlike Daniel, Reed might have disappeared voluntarily.
“Why would Sheldon know this now?” I asked.
Declan called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Elena didn't know where her father was.
Daniel hadn't seen him since morning.
Then Morrow security reported that Sheldon had entered the old Lakefront Municipal warehouse.
317.
The place Daniel warned us not to visit.
He had gone alone.
“Why?” I asked.
Elena looked furious.
“Because he thinks he owes Thomas.”
“You're not going.”
She glared at me.
“Really?”
I sighed.
“Apparently I've become Declan.”
He almost smiled.
We all went.
Not an army.
Federal investigators had been informed.
But Sheldon had asked for no authorities.
Which meant naturally everyone ignored him.
Warehouse 317 stood beside the South Branch of the river.
Rusting exterior.
Broken windows.
Inside was something entirely different.
Renovated offices.
Servers.
File storage.
The original Atlas operations site.
We found Sheldon in the main room.
Alive.
Sitting opposite an old man.
Walter Reed.
He looked seventy-five.
Thin.
White hair.
Calm.
When we entered, he smiled.
“Gemma Cole.”
I hated being recognized by strangers.
“Walter Reed?”
“Yes.”
“My father's boss.”
“And friend.”
“You let him die.”
“No.”
“Everyone says no.”
“Because Marcus caused Thomas's death.”
“Then what did you do?”
Reed looked toward Sheldon.
“I created Marcus.”
Silence.
“He was brilliant. Ambitious. Angry. I taught him how compliance systems worked.”
“And he used that to hijack Atlas.”
“Yes.”
“Why disappear?”
“Because he tried to kill me.”
“Convenient.”
“Painfully.”
Sheldon stood.
“He has records.”
Reed pointed toward the servers.
“The ledger you released is incomplete.”
My stomach sank.
“How incomplete?”
“Thomas had only one side.”
“What side?”
“Buyers.”
“Meaning?”
“The people purchasing influence.”
“And the other?”
“The people selling it.”
I stared at the servers.
Politicians.
Officials.
Executives.
People who accepted the favors.
“The network still exists because those people still exist.”
Reed nodded.
“Marcus wasn't Atlas.”
“Then who is?”
“No one.”
Back to the protocol.
“The members protect the network because exposing it exposes themselves.”
A self-sustaining conspiracy.
No king.
No boss.
No single villain.
That was why it survived.
Sheldon looked at Declan.
“Reed offered a solution.”
I didn't like his tone.
“What?”
Sheldon answered.
“Destroy the second ledger.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because releasing it could destabilize institutions across the city.”
“That sounds convenient for the guilty.”
Reed leaned forward.
“There are judges on that list. Police commanders. Hospital executives. City officials. If released without investigation, every decision they've made becomes suspect.”
“Maybe it should.”
“And thousands of innocent cases collapse with them.”
That stopped me.
Truth has consequences.
So does secrecy.
The easy answer vanished.
Declan looked at me.
“What would Thomas do?”
I almost answered.
Then stopped.
“No.”
“What?”
“We keep asking dead men.”
Everyone looked at me.
“My father had his choices. Patrick had his. We're the ones alive.”
I turned toward Reed.
“We don't destroy anything.”
His expression tightened.
“We also don't dump it publicly.”
Sheldon looked curious.
“What then?”
“We audit it.”
I looked at Declan.
“Properly.”
Independent teams.
Prosecutors.
Judges from outside jurisdictions.
Journalists where necessary.
Evidence verified before names were released.
Slow.
Messy.
Boring.
Exactly how accountability should work.
Reed studied me.
“You think institutions will cooperate?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I think they won't have a choice.”
Declan smiled.
That worried me.
Before anyone could respond, alarms sounded.
Reed went pale.
“No.”
“What?”
“The servers.”
Screens changed.
DELETION SEQUENCE ACTIVE.
Someone remotely accessed the warehouse.
“Marcus?” Sheldon asked.
“He's in custody,” I said.
Reed whispered:
“Then another anchor is still active.”
The countdown started at five minutes.
May you like
And somewhere outside our investigation, someone had just proven Atlas was still alive.
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