Chapter 2 - The Name Hidden in the Ledger
Gabriel did not react to Daniel Shaw’s name.
That was the terrifying part.
No curse.
No visible disbelief.
No slammed fist.
He simply stared at the screen while the countdown continued.
00:09:12.
00:09:11.
I had learned something about Gabriel over the previous two weeks.
The more dangerous a situation became, the calmer he appeared.
“Is Shaw in the building?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My mouth went dry.
“Where?”
Gabriel reached for his phone, then stopped before touching it.
I understood immediately.
“If Daniel can monitor the network—”
“He may monitor internal calls.”
“And security.”
“Yes.”
The countdown reached 8:53.
“What happens at zero?” Gabriel asked.
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“You created most of these files.”
“Most.”
“But not this.”
“No.”
He looked toward the office doors.
“Then someone knew you would bring the drive here.”
“And they knew you’d open it.”
A new thought hit me.
“Gabriel.”
“What?”
“Don’t let anyone leave the building.”
His eyes narrowed.
“If Daniel’s really involved, locking the building could warn him.”
“He’s already warned.”
“Why?”
“Because I escaped.”
I pushed myself upright despite the pain in my leg.
“The men who attacked me expected to recover this drive. They didn’t.”
“So?”
“So whoever sent them knows I still had it.”
Gabriel studied me.
“And if Daniel sent them?”
“He already knows I survived.”
Gabriel picked up the disconnected laptop and moved toward a bookcase.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting us somewhere without cameras.”
There was apparently a private elevator hidden behind the paneled wall.
Of course there was.
The doors opened into a narrow corridor that led down one floor.
I followed as quickly as my injured leg allowed.
Gabriel slowed without mentioning it.
At the end of the hallway stood a steel door.
Inside was a security room unlike anything I had seen.
No windows.
No corporate network.
Independent power.
Analog filing cabinets alongside standalone computers.
“Paranoid much?” I asked.
“Alive much?”
“Fair point.”
He placed the laptop on a table.
The countdown read 6:41.
Gabriel opened another computer.
“This system doesn’t touch the main building network.”
“Can it see security?”
“Through an isolated feed.”
He pulled up camera views.
Lobby.
Parking levels.
Elevators.
Executive floors.
Daniel Shaw appeared on screen.
Tall.
Gray suit.
Close-cropped dark hair.
He stood outside Gabriel’s office speaking to two security officers.
My pulse accelerated.
Gabriel leaned closer.
Daniel checked his phone.
One of the guards pointed toward the office.
Daniel’s expression changed.
“What is he doing?” I whispered.
Gabriel didn’t answer.
Daniel turned toward the camera.
Directly toward it.
Then the feed went black.
One camera.
Then another.
Then another.
In less than five seconds every executive-floor camera disappeared.
The countdown on the laptop reached 5:58.
Gabriel opened a drawer and removed a handgun.
I stared at it.
He checked the magazine.
“Do you always keep firearms beside accounting records?”
“The accounting records cause most of the shootings.”
I wished I could tell whether he was joking.
“Harper.”
“Yes?”
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“You don’t know what’s on the drive.”
“You’re injured.”
“And you’re about to confront the head of security in a building where he controls security.”
“I founded this company.”
“He may have been planning longer than you have.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“Five minutes ago you could barely stand.”
“Five minutes ago I didn’t know Daniel Shaw might know something about my father.”
That changed the argument.
Gabriel’s expression softened by half a degree.
“Explain.”
“My father was a financial investigator.”
“For whom?”
“Privately.”
“Clients?”
“He never told us.”
“Your mother?”
“Died when Toby was six.”
Gabriel lowered the gun slightly.
“And your father?”
“Six years later.”
“In the crash.”
I nodded.
“Police said he fell asleep driving.”
“You didn’t believe them.”
“He never drove tired. Ever.”
“Not proof.”
“No.”
“Why connect Shaw?”
“I don’t. Not yet.”
I pointed at the countdown.
“But whoever put that folder on the drive connected my father’s death to Daniel.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“And if you walk out there without knowing why, you may destroy the only person who can tell us the truth.”
His eyes hardened.
“I don’t destroy people casually.”
“No. You do it professionally. That’s so comforting.”
Against all logic, I saw the faintest spark of amusement.
Then the countdown hit 4:32.
Gabriel placed the gun on the table.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“You stay beside me.”
“I thought you wanted me here.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Because my argument was excellent?”
“Because if someone wanted you dead badly enough to chase you through downtown, leaving you alone in a room only I know exists suddenly feels optimistic.”
We returned to the laptop.
At 3:00, the folder unlocked itself.
No password.
Just files.
Photographs.
Financial records.
Scanned documents.
Then video.
The first photograph showed my father.
Peter Monroe.
Younger than I remembered him.
Standing outside a warehouse beside a man I recognized from newspaper articles.
Vincent Russo.
My hands began shaking.
“My father knew Russo?”
Gabriel leaned toward the image.
“Apparently.”
The next photograph was worse.
My father standing beside a younger Daniel Shaw.
Both men looked directly at the camera.
The date in the corner was thirteen years earlier.
One year before my father died.
Gabriel’s silence became heavy.
“You knew Daniel then?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How long has he worked for you?”
“Fourteen years.”
My stomach turned.
The next file was a scanned ledger.
My father’s handwriting covered the margins.
Dozens of shell companies.
Transfers.
Names.
One phrase appeared repeatedly.
BLACK HARBOR.
“What is Black Harbor?” I asked.
Gabriel’s face changed.
That was the first time I saw actual shock.
“You know it,” I said.
“It was an internal security project.”
“For what?”
“After an attempt on my father’s life, we built a private contingency system. Safe properties. Alternate transportation. Emergency funds.”
“Who had access?”
“My father. Me. Daniel.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Then why is my father tracking payments from it?”
Gabriel scrolled further.
Another name appeared.
Elias Cross.
Gabriel’s father.
A man who had died eight years earlier.
Beside his name, my father had written:
E.C. DOES NOT KNOW.
The countdown reached one minute.
“What happens at zero?” I whispered.
Gabriel’s hand moved toward the mouse.
“Maybe we’re about to find out.”
At 00:30, another video file activated automatically.
A man appeared on screen.
My father.
Alive.
Sitting in a dim room.
My breath stopped.
He looked exhausted.
Terrified.
But unmistakably alive at the time the recording was made.
The timestamp showed the video had been recorded two days before his death.
“If you’re watching this,” he said, “then I failed.”
I covered my mouth.
Gabriel stood perfectly still.
“My name is Peter Monroe. I was hired to audit a private security fund connected to Elias Cross. I discovered money being redirected through a system called Black Harbor.”
He looked off-camera.
Then back.
“Elias Cross is not responsible.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“The theft is being run by someone close enough to the Cross family to hide inside their security infrastructure.”
My father took a shaky breath.
“I made the mistake of telling Daniel Shaw what I found.”
Gabriel’s eyes darkened.
My father continued.
“But Daniel is not the man in charge.”
I stared at the screen.
Gabriel did too.
“There is someone above him.”
The countdown reached ten seconds.
My father leaned toward the camera.
“If anything happens to me, protect my children. Especially Toby. They will use him because he is young enough to manipulate and old enough to blame himself.”
My chest cracked open.
“Toby,” I whispered.
The countdown hit zero.
The screen went black.
Then a final document appeared.
One transfer authorization.
Twelve years old.
A payment of $250,000 made forty-eight hours before my father died.
Authorized from a Black Harbor account.
Recipient:
DANIEL SHAW.
Below it, a second authorization.
Much larger.
$3.7 million.
Recipient hidden.
Only one identifier remained.
A set of initials.
M.V.
Gabriel read them.
I did too.
There was only one person in his company with those initials who had been powerful enough to hide for years.
Marcus Vale.
Gabriel’s chief operating officer.
His oldest friend.
The man who had been standing beside Gabriel at his father’s funeral.
Before either of us could speak, a red emergency light illuminated above the steel door.
Gabriel looked at the security panel.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
His expression became cold.
“Someone just locked down the entire floor.”
A speaker crackled.
Then Marcus Vale’s voice filled the room.
“Gabriel.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“I know you’re in there.”
Gabriel reached for his gun.
Marcus continued calmly.
May you like
“And if Harper Monroe is with you, tell her I have her brother.”
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