Chapter 4 - Twenty-Three Companies and One Lie
The man in the doorway wasn't Julian.
Bastion knew it immediately.
Beatrice needed another second.
The resemblance was extraordinary, but the eyes were wrong.
The man lifted both hands.
"Don't."
Bastion stepped in front of Beatrice.
"Who are you?"
"Daniel Mercer."
Bastion's face changed.
Beatrice looked between them.
"Another relative?"
"My cousin."
Daniel entered slowly.
He had spent twelve years overseas managing Mercer shipping operations.
Bastion hadn't seen him in four.
"What are you doing here?" Bastion asked.
"Trying to keep Adrian alive."
Adrian struggled upright.
"He's telling the truth."
Bastion didn't relax.
Daniel placed a flash drive on the bedside table.
"Julian contacted me six months ago."
Bastion stared at him.
"So he's alive."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Bastion's voice hardened.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No. That's why I brought evidence."
Beatrice reached for the drive.
Bastion caught her hand.
"No."
She looked down at his fingers around hers.
Then up.
"Bastion."
"Could contain malware."
"Good point."
He released her.
Daniel almost smiled.
"She always argue with you?"
"Constantly."
"I like her."
"Don't."
Beatrice rolled her eyes.
They transferred the drive to an isolated hospital computer.
It contained audio recordings.
Messages.
Transactions.
And photographs.
Julian Mercer was alive.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
Bastion stared at the image of his brother.
Beatrice watched grief and anger collide silently inside him.
"What happened between you?" she asked.
Bastion remained quiet.
Daniel answered.
"Their father chose Bastion."
"For what?"
"The company."
Bastion finally spoke.
"Julian was older. He believed Mercer Logistics belonged to him."
"But your father chose you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Julian was stealing from him."
There it was.
The human weakness.
Greed.
The first five million Nathan discovered hadn't been an isolated fraud.
It had been Julian testing the system.
Nathan found it.
Adrian helped hide Nathan.
Julian disappeared and staged his death.
Then he waited.
Years.
Building connections.
Watching Bastion.
Preparing.
Beatrice returned to the financial records.
"But the forty million still doesn't make sense."
"Why?" Daniel asked.
"Because Julian could steal money without routing it back through a trust connected to Adrian. He deliberately left a trail."
She opened the twenty-three shell companies.
"What if the money isn't the objective?"
Bastion looked at her.
"What is?"
"Access."
She began mapping the companies.
Each one corresponded to a Mercer facility.
Warehouse.
Port.
Hotel.
Office tower.
Distribution center.
Twenty-three companies.
Twenty-three locations.
Beatrice's fingers stopped.
"Oh, God."
Bastion leaned closer.
"What?"
"These aren't just shell companies."
She enlarged the contracts.
"They're vendors."
Security systems.
Building maintenance.
Network infrastructure.
Transportation.
Julian hadn't spent forty million buying an army.
He had spent forty million buying access to Bastion's entire organization.
The hotel blackout.
The disabled cameras.
The empty satellite-phone battery.
None of it required breaking in.
Julian had already paid people to be inside.
Bastion called Tomas.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Beatrice looked at him.
"When did you last see him?"
"Before we came upstairs."
"Call your office."
He did.
No answer.
Daniel's phone rang.
He checked the message.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He handed it to Bastion.
A photograph.
Tomas sat tied to a chair inside Bastion's own executive office.
Behind him stood a man.
Silver hair.
Older face.
Bastion's brother.
Julian.
Below the photograph was a message.
COME HOME.
Bastion turned toward the door.
Beatrice grabbed his arm.
"No."
"He has Tomas."
"That's why he sent the photograph."
"I'm going."
"Then you're doing exactly what he wants."
Bastion faced her.
"He took one of my people."
"And he'll take you too if you walk in angry."
"Move."
"No."
Daniel stepped backward.
Even Adrian looked alarmed.
Bastion stared down at Beatrice.
She refused to move.
She had spent her entire adult life refusing to become smaller when powerful men expected it.
This one wasn't going to be different.
"Julian has spent years planning this," she said. "You have spent five minutes reacting to it. Which one of you do you think currently has the advantage?"
His jaw clenched.
"You don't understand."
"I understand exactly. He's using loyalty against you."
That stopped him.
Beatrice lowered her voice.
"If you want Tomas back, stop behaving like Julian expects."
Silence.
Then Bastion stepped away.
"What do you suggest?"
Beatrice returned to the laptop.
"We follow the money."
Daniel frowned.
"We already did."
"No. We followed where the money went."
She looked at Bastion.
"Now we find where it came from."
The original forty million appeared to have been siphoned from Mercer accounts.
But Beatrice suspected something different.
After forty minutes, she found it.
Only twenty-eight million had come from Mercer Logistics.
Twelve million had entered the network from somewhere else.
A private trust.
She traced it.
Her expression changed.
"What?"
"This trust belongs to your father."
Bastion frowned.
"My father died eleven years ago."
"Apparently dead people in your family remain financially active."
The trust had made transfers recently.
Someone had access.
Beatrice opened the authorization documents.
One digital signature.
One name.
She stared.
Bastion leaned closer.
The signature didn't belong to Julian.
It belonged to someone currently standing in the hospital room.
Beatrice slowly looked up.
Daniel Mercer had gone completely pale.
Bastion followed her gaze.
Daniel backed toward the door.
"Bastion, I can explain."
Bastion's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Then start."
Daniel glanced toward the hallway.
His hand moved inside his jacket.
Beatrice froze.
But Daniel didn't produce a weapon.
He produced an old photograph.
He placed it on the table.
Four men stood together.
A younger Bastion.
Julian.
Nathan Cole.
And Bastion's father.
On the back were six handwritten words:
THE MONEY WAS NEVER JULIAN'S PLAN.
Beatrice turned the photograph over again.
A date had been written beneath it.
Tomorrow's date.
May you like
And underneath that was an address Beatrice recognized immediately.
Her own apartment...
