Chapter 6 - A Ledger Worth Killing For
By the time Desmond returned to Hayes Tower, smoke filled three floors.
Fire crews had contained the blaze.
The server room had not been destroyed entirely.
That was the good news.
The bad news was whoever started the fire knew exactly which systems mattered.
“Backup drives are gone,” Marco said.
“Off-site?”
“Still intact.”
“Access logs?”
“Deleted.”
“Cameras?”
“Looped for twenty-two minutes.”
Desmond looked through the glass toward his damaged executive floor.
“Vaughn?”
“Phone off.”
“Residence?”
“Empty.”
“Airports?”
“Nothing.”
Beatrice approached with Daniel behind her.
Desmond’s men had searched Daniel.
Twice.
He had remained surprisingly cooperative.
Desmond turned.
“You have thirty seconds to explain why I shouldn’t assume you helped Nathan.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Because I’ve spent three years trying to expose him.”
“Without telling me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“That excuse is becoming popular.”
Daniel looked at Beatrice.
She folded her arms.
“Don’t drag me into this.”
Daniel continued.
“Nathan had files on everyone.”
“So?”
“So including you.”
Desmond waited.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“The Zurich accounts.”
Marco looked away.
Beatrice had never heard the phrase.
“What Zurich accounts?”
Desmond’s face became unreadable.
“Old business.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Old crimes.”
Beatrice looked at Desmond.
He said nothing.
Daniel continued.
“Nathan knew enough to put you away forever if he was cornered.”
“That never stopped anyone else from talking.”
“He had more.”
“What?”
Daniel’s eyes moved toward Beatrice.
“Her.”
Desmond’s entire body changed.
“What about her?”
“Nathan was monitoring Beatrice before Rourke ever contacted her.”
Beatrice went still.
“Why?”
“Because he realized she was getting close to Northlake.”
Desmond’s voice lowered.
“What did he have planned?”
Daniel hesitated.
“An accident.”
Silence.
Beatrice felt the air leave her lungs.
Desmond stepped forward.
Marco moved automatically, not to stop him but to remain close.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“What happened?”
“I interfered.”
“How?”
“Changed the vehicle assignment.”
Beatrice remembered.
Three months earlier, her car service had been switched unexpectedly.
The original vehicle had later been reported stolen.
She had thought nothing of it.
Until now.
“You saved me?”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell Desmond?”
“Because Nathan would know his communications were compromised.”
Beatrice looked between the men.
“How many people have been protecting me without asking whether I want protection?”
Desmond answered immediately.
“At least two.”
She glared.
“Not helpful.”
Daniel continued.
“Nathan has been working both sides.”
“For Rourke?” Marco asked.
“For himself.”
Desmond understood.
“He fed Rourke enough information to weaken me.”
“Yes.”
“But not enough to let Rourke take control.”
“Yes.”
“And he stole from both organizations.”
Daniel nodded.
“The ledger proves it.”
“What is actually in the ledger?”
Daniel looked toward Evan, who had just entered under guard.
“Ask him.”
Evan stopped.
Beatrice turned.
“You said it contained financial records.”
“It does.”
“What else?”
Evan hesitated.
“Nathan’s original name.”
Desmond frowned.
“What?”
“Nathan Vaughn didn’t exist before twenty years ago.”
Marco pulled out his phone.
“Background was verified.”
“Because he created it.”
Evan continued.
“His real name is Nicholas Varen.”
Daniel nodded.
“He worked for Rourke’s father.”
Desmond stared.
Suddenly thirteen years of perfect legal strategy looked very different.
Nathan had not simply joined Desmond’s organization.
He had entered it deliberately.
“When?” Desmond asked.
“From the beginning,” Evan said.
“Why?”
“To build something Rourke could eventually take.”
Beatrice felt a chill.
“But Desmond became too powerful.”
“Yes.”
“So Nathan switched plans.”
Daniel answered.
“He decided to take it himself.”
The architecture of the betrayal became clear.
Rourke believed Nathan served him.
Desmond believed Nathan served Hayes Capital.
But Nathan had spent years manipulating both.
The warehouses.
The leaks.
The financial transfers.
Everything had been designed to weaken both organizations until Nathan could control what survived.
Beatrice whispered, “And the ledger can prove it.”
“Yes,” Evan said.
Desmond looked at the damaged server room.
“Then Nathan will do anything to find it.”
Daniel nodded toward the staircase records from the Gallagher house.
“And he has been searching.”
“Which means he thinks it still exists.”
“It does.”
Everyone turned toward Evan.
Beatrice stared.
“You said you didn’t know where it was.”
“I said I didn’t know where it was anymore.”
“That sounds remarkably similar.”
“It isn’t.”
“Evan.”
He exhaled.
“I gave it to someone.”
“Who?”
“Our father.”
Beatrice froze.
“Dad died sixteen years ago.”
“Before I disappeared, I found the files. I panicked. Dad helped me hide them.”
“Under the stairs.”
“No.”
Beatrice stared.
“That compartment was a decoy.”
Daniel swore quietly.
Evan almost smiled.
“Dad wasn’t stupid.”
“Where did he put it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said—”
“He never told me.”
Beatrice covered her face.
“This family is exhausting.”
Desmond almost smiled despite everything.
Evan continued.
“Dad said if anyone came looking, the house would keep them busy.”
“Apparently for fourteen years,” Marco said.
“So the ledger could be anywhere.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice looked down.
Her father, Patrick Gallagher, had been an accountant.
Quiet.
Careful.
Obsessed with puzzles.
He had died unexpectedly when she was seventeen.
A heart attack.
At least that was what they had believed.
Something shifted inside her.
“What if Dad knew?”
“Knew what?” Evan asked.
“That people would search the house.”
“He did.”
“No. I mean knew they’d search after he was gone.”
She began pacing.
“He loved puzzles.”
Evan’s expression changed.
“You remember the birthday hunts?”
“Yes.”
Every year, their father hid gifts and wrote clues.
Three clues for Evan.
Three for Beatrice.
Always ending in a place connected to family history.
“What was his last one?” Beatrice whispered.
Evan thought.
“My eighteenth birthday?”
“No. Mine.”
“You were seventeen.”
She closed her eyes.
Her final birthday before he died.
The clue had seemed meaningless after his death.
Something about ashes.
Something about a woman who never forgot names.
Then Beatrice remembered.
Her eyes opened.
“The library.”
Desmond turned.
“What library?”
“Harold Washington.”
Evan stared.
“The genealogy room.”
“Yes.”
Their father had taken them there dozens of times.
He researched family history obsessively.
Beatrice grabbed her coat.
Desmond stopped her.
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
“The building is closed.”
“I know someone.”
“Of course you do.”
She looked at him.
“I organize your life. You think I can’t get into a library?”
Forty minutes later, they stood inside a silent research room under emergency lighting.
Beatrice led them to genealogy archives.
She searched old family records.
Then stopped at a microfilm cabinet.
Gallagher.
Patrick had once donated historical documents under the family name.
The archivist opened a sealed storage box.
Inside were family photographs.
Newspaper clippings.
Birth certificates.
And one battered copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
Beatrice stared.
Her father’s favorite book.
She opened it.
The center had been hollowed out.
Inside rested a small leather-bound notebook.
Evan whispered, “The ledger.”
Desmond reached toward it.
Beatrice stopped him.
“Wait.”
A folded envelope lay beneath.
Her name was written across the front.
For Beatrice.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a single page in her father’s handwriting.
Bee, if you are reading this, then Evan was right to be afraid.
Her eyes filled.
She continued.
Do not trust the man who comes offering protection.
Do not trust the man who claims he can save the family.
And above all, do not give this book to Nicholas Varen.
Beatrice looked at Desmond.
“Nathan.”
She read the final line.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Desmond stepped closer.
She handed him the page.
At the bottom, Patrick Gallagher had written:
If Nicholas discovers I kept the ledger, he will come for my children next.
The room went silent.
Beatrice stared at her brother.
Their father had not died before this conspiracy began.
He had been part of it.
May you like
And perhaps his death had never been natural at all.
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