Chapter 2 - The Number Hidden in the Books
Rey did not get into the SUV.
She folded her arms.
“If Lucian Zarka wants to talk to me, he can call.”
The man beside the door appeared genuinely surprised.
“People usually get in.”
“I’m not people usually.”
“You touched him last night.”
“That was before I knew who he was.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m making better decisions.”
A voice came from inside the vehicle.
“Are you?”
Rey froze.
Lucian stepped out from the opposite side.
Same controlled expression.
Different suit.
He carried no visible threat.
That somehow made him more intimidating.
He held the folder.
“Your employer processed these invoices.”
Rey glanced at them.
“I don’t discuss client information.”
“They aren't client information.”
“How did you get them?”
“Legally.”
“That answer sounded suspiciously rehearsed.”
Again, that almost-smile.
Lucian handed her the first page.
Rey resisted.
Then she looked.
Her professional instincts took over.
Numbers.
Shipping charges.
Vendor IDs.
Invoice sequences.
Nothing unusual.
Until she saw 1597.
Then 2584.
Then 4181.
Her pulse changed.
“Fibonacci numbers.”
Lucian nodded.
“They appear in transactions involving six different companies.”
Rey scanned another page.
“Not random transactions.”
“What do you see?”
“Amounts.”
Lucian watched her.
Rey pointed.
“These aren't exact Fibonacci numbers. They're being used as markers. Look at the final four digits.”
She flipped pages.
1597.
1598.
1599.
1600.
A sequence.
Someone had embedded a mathematical signature in financial transactions.
“Whoever did this wanted someone to find it,” Rey whispered.
“Or wanted to identify which transactions belonged together.”
She looked up.
“Why bring this to me?”
“Because last night you recognized 1597 instantly.”
“That doesn't make me an expert.”
“No. Your employment history does.”
Rey stiffened.
“You investigated me.”
“After you touched me.”
“That sounds ridiculous when you say it like that.”
“It was ridiculous when you did it.”
She hated that he had a point.
Lucian explained that his organization had discovered irregularities across several legitimate businesses. Money had been disappearing in small amounts.
Not enough to attract immediate attention.
But together?
Millions.
Rey examined the documents again.
“These invoices came through Caldwell.”
“Yes.”
Her stomach tightened.
Mr. Caldwell was difficult, cheap and arrogant.
But criminal?
She didn't know.
“I need originals.”
Lucian studied her.
“You're agreeing to help?”
“No. I'm saying photocopies can hide alterations.”
That afternoon, against every instinct screaming at her to leave, Rey sat in a private conference room with Lucian and two accountants.
Within ninety minutes, she found the first inconsistency.
A vendor number had been duplicated.
Then another.
The pattern led to a shell corporation.
North Vale Logistics.
Rey searched the folder.
“Who owns this?”
“We don't know,” Lucian said.
“Then that's your problem.”
Lucian leaned closer.
“Our problem.”
“No. Definitely yours.”
His gaze lingered.
“Someone used your employee login.”
Rey stopped breathing.
“What?”
He turned a laptop toward her.
There it was.
R.DUNORE.
Her credentials had approved three transfers.
“I didn't do these.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You were clocked into another location when two were authorized.”
Relief lasted half a second.
Then terror replaced it.
“Someone is framing me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That,” Lucian said, “is what I intend to discover.”
Rey left two hours later with her mind spinning.
She called Belle.
No answer.
She called again.
Nothing.
Then she drove home.
Her apartment door was unlocked.
Rey knew she had locked it.
She stood in the hallway.
Nothing looked damaged.
Inside, everything appeared normal.
Except her desk drawer.
It was open.
She approached slowly.
Her old accounting notebooks had been disturbed.
One was missing.
The blue notebook from her first year at Caldwell.
Rey backed away.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Silence.
Then a distorted voice said:
“Stop looking at the numbers.”
The call ended.
Rey immediately called Lucian.
He answered after one ring.
“Where are you?”
“My apartment.”
“Leave.”
“Someone was here.”
A pause.
“What did they take?”
“My notebook.”
“What was in it?”
“Old accounts. Vendor lists. Things I noticed when I started at Caldwell.”
Lucian’s voice changed.
“Rey. Leave now.”
She grabbed her purse.
Then noticed something on the kitchen counter.
An envelope.
Her name was handwritten across it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Rey leaving Caldwell three nights earlier.
Taken from across the street.
On the back were four numbers.
1597.
Her phone was still against her ear.
“Lucian?”
“Yes?”
“I think someone has been watching me longer than you have.”
Silence.
Then Lucian said something that turned her fear cold.
“So do I.”
Because Lucian had just received another photograph.
It showed Rey standing outside Caldwell six months earlier.
And beside her was a man Rey had always believed was simply another client.
Lucian knew him differently.
His name was Viktor Soren.
May you like
And for eight years, Lucian had believed Viktor was dead.
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