Chapter 12 - Claire Walked Back Into the Lion’s Den
Claire's mother had lived with the recording for three years.
That fact hurt almost as much as everything else.
Vincent locked the front door and checked the rear entrance.
Margaret remained outside.
Waiting.
Too calm.
Which meant she hadn't come alone.
Ellen hurried toward the basement.
Claire followed.
Vincent caught her hand.
“Two minutes.”
“For what?”
“My people.”
“You still trust them?”
“The three who didn't sell me out.”
Claire wanted to argue.
Then the living room window shattered.
Not a bullet.
A metal canister.
Smoke poured out.
Vincent grabbed Claire.
“Basement. Now.”
They ran downstairs.
Ellen opened an old storage cabinet.
Behind blankets was a small fireproof safe.
She entered a code.
Inside sat a VHS tape.
Claire stared.
“You're joking.”
“Your father trusted old technology.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Smart man.”
Another crash upstairs.
Margaret’s people were entering.
Ellen handed Claire the tape.
“Take it.”
“What about you?”
“I’m coming.”
They moved toward a basement exit.
Locked.
Vincent kicked it once.
Twice.
The frame cracked.
Footsteps entered the basement.
Margaret’s voice.
“Claire.”
Vincent pushed Ellen and Claire behind him.
Margaret descended slowly.
Two men followed.
No Marcus.
Interesting.
Margaret looked tired now.
For the first time, she appeared less like a mastermind and more like an aging woman whose lies had outgrown her control.
“Give me the tape.”
Claire held it tighter.
“You know what's on it.”
“Yes.”
“You killed Arthur.”
“No.”
“You helped Vale.”
Margaret's expression hardened.
“I survived Vale.”
Claire frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Margaret laughed bitterly.
“You think I controlled him?”
“You ran Terminal Seven.”
“I ran what he allowed me to run.”
Samuel's story returned to Claire.
Margaret had been ambitious.
Cruel.
Responsible.
But Thomas Vale stood above her.
Margaret continued.
“When Samuel tried to expose the network, Vale ordered me to contain him.”
“You set the fire.”
“Yes.”
Claire appreciated the lack of excuses.
“I thought Samuel died.”
“You discovered he didn't.”
“Yes.”
“And spent twelve years hunting him.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not to kill him.”
“Then why?”
“To get the evidence before Vale did.”
Claire stared.
“That's not what Samuel believes.”
“Samuel believes many things.”
Vincent spoke.
“You shot at us today.”
Margaret looked at him.
“No.”
Vincent frowned.
“I didn't order that.”
“Marcus worked for you.”
“Marcus worked for Vale.”
Silence.
Margaret smiled sadly.
“You still don't understand how far his reach goes.”
Claire thought about the apartment.
The sniper.
Marcus.
Vale had been moving separately.
Margaret continued.
“Vale realized Evan was no longer controllable. He realized I had failed.”
Ellen said, “So now you're running.”
“Yes.”
Margaret's honesty surprised everyone.
“Then why come here?” Claire asked.
“Because Vale knows about the tape.”
Margaret looked at Ellen.
“He’ll kill everyone in this house to get it.”
Vincent’s phone vibrated.
One message.
From an unknown number.
A live camera feed.
Samuel and Evan in Vincent’s penthouse.
Marcus stood behind them.
Armed.
Claire’s blood froze.
Text appeared below.
TAPE FOR THE MERCERS.
Vincent's expression darkened.
Margaret looked at the screen.
“I told you.”
Claire stared.
Thomas Vale had played everyone.
Margaret.
Evan.
Samuel.
Vincent.
Her father.
Arthur.
All of them.
Vincent spoke.
“We trade.”
“No,” Margaret said.
Everyone looked at her.
“Vale doesn't trade.”
“He wants the tape.”
“He wants every witness gone.”
Claire felt the truth of it.
“So what do we do?”
Margaret looked at her.
“We make the tape useless as leverage.”
“How?”
“Release it.”
Ellen stared.
“To who?”
“Everyone.”
Vincent nodded slowly.
“Media.”
“Federal authorities.”
“International partners.”
Margaret looked at Claire.
“Once thousands of copies exist, Vale gains nothing by killing anyone for the original.”
Claire held the tape.
“And Evan?”
Margaret's face changed at her son's name.
“He’ll kill Evan anyway if we embarrass him.”
“Then we need him out first.”
Vincent looked at the clock.
Vale had demanded a meeting at eleven.
Forty-eight minutes.
Claire thought.
Three years managing crises for Vincent.
Hundreds of schedules.
Negotiations.
People.
Weaknesses.
Everybody assumed her job was organization.
It wasn't.
Her job was predicting behavior.
Thomas Vale believed he controlled the board.
Fine.
Claire would change the board.
She looked at Margaret.
“Call him.”
Vincent turned.
“Claire.”
“Trust me.”
Margaret dialed.
Vale answered immediately.
“Margaret.”
Her face remained calm.
“I have the tape.”
Silence.
“Good.”
“I also have Claire.”
Vincent stared at her.
Margaret understood instantly.
“And Vincent Hale.”
Vale paused.
“Bring all three.”
“Where?”
“The Mercer warehouse.”
Samuel’s old warehouse.
The place where everything began.
Vale continued.
“Midnight.”
The call ended.
Claire smiled.
Vincent frowned.
“What exactly is the plan?”
“We give Vale what he thinks he wants.”
“And then?”
Claire handed Ellen the tape.
“He never gets the real one.”
Margaret stared.
“You trust me?”
“No.”
Claire picked up a blank VHS cassette from the shelf.
“But I understand you.”
She looked at Vincent.
“Vale thinks secretaries organize other people's plans.”
May you like
A cold smile appeared.
“Tonight he learns we make our own.”
