Chapter 5 - A Photograph That Shouldn’t Exist
Bastion locked down the clinic.
Adrian's vehicle had disappeared.
So had two guards.
“He's running,” Bastion said.
“Maybe.”
“You still doubt it?”
“I doubt anything that becomes obvious this conveniently.”
That irritated him.
Good.
Anger made people think they were certain.
Beatrice preferred uncertainty.
They found security footage.
Adrian had taken the file.
But before leaving, he placed something behind the nurses' station.
A photograph.
Beatrice retrieved it.
Bastion stood beside Elena Mercer.
Taken three months ago.
Except Bastion had never met her.
The image was fake.
Expertly manipulated.
On the back:
THEY CAN CREATE ANY TRUTH THEY NEED.
Beatrice understood.
“Adrian didn't leave this.”
“Then who?”
“Someone wants us to know evidence can be manufactured.”
Her phone rang.
Adrian.
Bastion answered.
“I didn't betray you.”
“Where are you?”
“Your mother told me to run.”
Bastion stiffened.
“She gave me the blue file.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she said telling you would get you killed.”
Beatrice took the phone.
“What is in it?”
“The original ownership records.”
“For the twenty-three companies?”
“Yes.”
“Who owns them?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Alexander Mercer.”
Bastion's dead father.
Beatrice closed her eyes.
The companies weren't created by the traitor.
They had been inherited.
“Where are you?”
Adrian gave an address.
An abandoned church outside Burlington.
They arrived forty minutes later.
Adrian waited alone.
The blue file sat on a pew.
Inside were corporate charters.
Alexander had created the network years before his death.
But not for crime.
For escape.
He had discovered someone inside the Mercer organization building a trafficking route through legitimate shipping lanes.
He created secret companies to gather evidence and move vulnerable witnesses to safety.
Elena helped him.
Thomas Reed tracked the money.
Then Alexander died.
The network was hijacked.
“Who?” Bastion demanded.
Adrian shook his head.
“Elena never told me.”
“Where is she?”
“She changes locations constantly.”
Beatrice studied the documents.
One signature appeared repeatedly.
Victor Mercer.
But again, too obvious.
She found something else.
A notarization.
Every transfer had been witnessed by the same lawyer.
Evelyn Shaw.
One of the seven.
Bastion called Evelyn.
No answer.
Then Beatrice's phone buzzed.
A photograph appeared.
Evelyn tied to a chair.
A digital clock beside her counted backward from thirty minutes.
Underneath:
BRING THE BLUE FILE.
Bastion stared.
Adrian whispered, “It's a trap.”
Beatrice nodded.
“Of course it is.”
Bastion looked at her.
“You're staying.”
She picked up the file.
“No.”
Twenty-five minutes later, they reached an abandoned warehouse.
A single light burned inside.
Evelyn sat beneath it.
Alive.
Beatrice approached.
“Evelyn?”
The lawyer lifted her head.
“Don't come closer.”
Beatrice stopped.
“Why?”
Evelyn looked toward Bastion.
“They're not after the file.”
A mechanical click sounded beneath the chair.
Evelyn whispered:
May you like
“They wanted all of you in the same room.”
Then every warehouse door locked at once.
