Chapter 3 - The Man Who Never Resigned
"Claire."
Evan Brooks looked twenty years older than he had four days earlier.
He had been our accountant for seven years.
He was supposed to be somewhere in Connecticut after suddenly resigning.
Instead, he was standing in row 34 of my Madrid flight.
"You need to sit down," I said.
"We don't have time."
Daniel appeared behind me.
Evan saw him.
His expression hardened.
"You."
Daniel stopped.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you."
Passengers were staring.
I moved us toward the rear galley.
Maya blocked access while I closed the curtain.
"What happened in Lisbon?" I asked.
Neither man answered.
I slammed the black folder onto the counter.
"Enough."
Evan looked at Daniel.
"Tell her."
Daniel's shoulders dropped.
"Two years ago, I went to Lisbon to meet MRC representatives."
"You told me you were in Chicago."
"I lied."
"I gathered."
Evan continued for him.
"MRC wasn't investing in Mercer Aviation. They were using it."
"For what?"
"Payments."
"What kind?"
"Money entered legitimate consulting agreements. Then invoices were created for services that never existed."
Money laundering.
The realization landed hard.
"Daniel knew?"
"Eventually."
I looked at my husband.
"When?"
"After the first quarter."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I tried to get us out."
"By forging my signature?"
"Those transfers weren't mine."
That surprised Evan too.
"What?"
Daniel looked at him.
"I thought you authorized them."
"I thought Claire did."
They stared at each other.
Someone else had been moving money.
"Who had access?" I asked.
Evan answered.
"Three people. Me. Daniel. And our outside legal administrator."
"Name."
"Rebecca Sloan."
I knew Rebecca.
She had attended my mother's funeral.
She had eaten Thanksgiving dinner in our home.
"Where is she?"
Evan shook his head.
"Missing."
Daniel looked stunned.
"Since when?"
"Yesterday."
The aircraft suddenly felt very small.
Evan explained Lisbon.
He and Daniel had discovered shell companies connected to MRC.
They had collected records.
Daniel wanted to go to federal authorities.
Before he could, someone broke into Evan's house.
Nothing was stolen.
But photographs of Evan's children had been placed on his kitchen table.
So they stopped.
Or pretended to.
"Why contact me four days ago?" I asked.
"Because money started moving again."
"The $230,000?"
He nodded.
"And something changed."
"What?"
"MRC began transferring ownership."
"Of what?"
"Mercer Aviation."
I stared.
"Impossible."
"Not if someone forged your signature."
The documents on my tablet suddenly made sense.
This wasn't theft.
It was a takeover.
"Why?"
Evan looked at Daniel.
Daniel said quietly, "Because we have something they need."
"What?"
"A government logistics contract."
Our newest contract.
Worth nearly forty million dollars over five years.
But money wasn't the important part.
We had access to scheduling data for private aviation contractors operating across Europe.
Routes.
Airports.
Aircraft movements.
Sensitive information.
I felt sick.
"Who is Adrian Rourke?"
Evan answered.
"A financier publicly."
"And privately?"
"No one knows."
The galley phone rang.
Maya answered.
Her face changed.
"Claire."
She handed it to me.
Captain Reynolds.
"Claire, come forward. Now."
"What happened?"
"The passenger listed as Thomas Vale is missing."
"We know."
"No. I mean missing."
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"His seat is empty. His belongings are there. We've checked every lavatory and galley."
An aircraft at cruising altitude has very few places to disappear.
"Could he be in a crew rest area?"
"Those doors are secured."
I looked at Daniel.
He had heard.
Then the captain added:
"His passport is fake."
Ten minutes later, the crew quietly searched the aircraft.
Nothing.
Thomas Vale had vanished.
The passengers remained unaware.
Evan stayed seated under observation.
Daniel returned to 2A.
Vanessa moved to another empty seat.
I finally had thirty seconds alone.
I entered the forward lavatory.
Locked the door.
Removed the microSD card.
My phone had no compatible slot.
But my tablet did.
I inserted it.
One folder appeared.
MERCER.
Password protected.
I tried Daniel's birthday.
Wrong.
Our anniversary.
Wrong.
My birthday.
Wrong.
Then I remembered Lisbon.
I entered LISBON.
The folder opened.
Hundreds of documents appeared.
Bank transfers.
Contracts.
Emails.
Photographs.
Audio files.
And a video.
I pressed play.
Rebecca Sloan appeared.
Our attorney.
She was sitting in what looked like an office.
"Claire, if you're watching this, Daniel failed."
My heart stopped.
Rebecca continued.
"MRC Holdings has been attempting to acquire Mercer Aviation through fraudulent transfers and forged authorizations. Daniel discovered the scheme eighteen months ago."
So Daniel had known much longer than he'd admitted.
"But Daniel isn't innocent."
I froze.
"He used company funds to create a private reserve account. He said it was to protect you if MRC seized the company. I believe part of that is true."
Part.
"However, there are additional withdrawals I cannot explain."
Vanessa.
Apartment.
Trips.
The affair.
Rebecca looked directly into the camera.
"If Daniel tells you everything he did was for you, don't believe him."
The video ended.
I sat there staring at the screen.
Daniel had protected me.
Daniel had betrayed me.
Both things could be true.
That was somehow worse.
I opened another file.
A spreadsheet listed payments.
Some I recognized.
Others went back years.
Then I saw my mother's name.
ELIZABETH HART.
My mother.
Payment received: $250,000.
Date: eight months before her death.
I stopped breathing.
Why would MRC pay my mother?
I opened the linked document.
A scanned contract appeared.
CONFIDENTIAL CONSULTING AGREEMENT.
Signed:
Elizabeth Hart.
Adrian Rourke.
My mother had known him.
A knock hit the lavatory door.
"Claire?"
Daniel.
I removed the card and opened the door.
"What?"
"We're descending in forty minutes."
"Good."
"We need a plan."
"I have one."
"What?"
"Police."
His jaw tightened.
"Not until you understand everything."
"I understand enough."
"No."
"Did my mother work for MRC?"
Daniel went still.
That was my answer.
"You knew."
"Claire—"
"You knew."
"Only after she died."
"What did she do for them?"
"I don't know."
"Stop lying."
"I'm not."
I pushed past him.
He followed.
"Your mother introduced me to Adrian."
I turned.
"What?"
"Three years before she died."
The cabin noise seemed to disappear.
"My mother introduced you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She said he could save our company."
Everything shifted.
The investment.
Lisbon.
MRC.
My mother.
This nightmare hadn't started with Daniel.
It had started years earlier.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"She made me promise."
"My mother was dying."
"I know."
"Of cancer."
Daniel looked away.
Something about that movement terrified me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What aren't you saying?"
"Claire, not here."
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Did MRC have something to do with my mother's death?"
"No."
Too fast.
"Daniel."
"No. Not like that."
"Then like what?"
He lowered his voice.
"Your mother wasn't just sick."
"What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, the cabin lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then steadied.
Maya approached.
"We have another message."
"Where?"
"Your crew tablet."
We went to the galley.
A photograph filled the screen.
My mother.
Alive.
Taken outside a café.
The timestamp was impossible.
Three months after her funeral.
Under the photograph were six words:
YOUR MOTHER LIED TO YOU FIRST.
I stared at it until the letters blurred.
Then a second message appeared.
LOOK OUT THE WINDOW AT GATE 42.
Madrid.
Gate 42.
Our arrival gate.
We were still thirty minutes away.
I looked at Daniel.
He looked terrified.
"Claire."
"What?"
"If someone is waiting at that gate, don't go near them."
"Why?"
May you like
His answer came as a whisper.
"Because I think your mother may be alive."
