Chapter 5 - The Man Inside the Walls
Nikolai tackled his father as the bullet crossed the greenhouse.
Dmitri’s men opened fire toward the woods.
The shooter disappeared.
Anton survived.
The bullet grazed his shoulder.
Vera watched Nikolai bandage him with furious hands.
“Someone knew exactly where you were standing.”
Anton grimaced.
“Yes.”
“That means the estate is compromised.”
“Yes.”
Nikolai looked at Dmitri.
“Search everyone.”
Dmitri nodded.
Anton grabbed his son’s wrist.
“Not everyone.”
“What?”
“The house itself.”
They discovered listening devices inside the walls.
Old devices.
Some had been installed before Nikolai inherited the estate.
Someone had listened to the Voss family for decades.
The signal terminated beneath the west wing.
They found another hidden room.
Inside were surveillance tapes.
Hundreds.
One showed Vera arriving for her groundskeeping interview three years earlier.
Nikolai watched his younger self cross the driveway behind her.
Anton frowned.
“What?”
Nikolai rewound.
A black sedan was parked outside the gate.
The same sedan appeared in records connected to Helian.
Vera whispered, “They knew I came here from the beginning.”
She had not accidentally found employment with Nikolai.
Someone had guided her toward him.
Why?
Dmitri found her original application.
The agency that referred her did not exist.
Vera felt sick.
“My whole life has been arranged.”
Nikolai turned toward her.
“Not everything.”
She met his eyes.
Something passed between them.
Something neither had named.
Not yet.
The satellite phone rang.
Elias.
This time Vera knew his voice immediately though she could not explain how.
“Little V.”
Her childhood nickname unlocked something.
A boy pushing her bicycle.
A scraped knee.
A silver pendant divided in two.
Vera began crying.
“Elias.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“Running.”
“From Helian?”
“From everyone.”
“Dad is alive.”
“I know.”
“Who ordered Bellweather?”
Silence.
“Elias?”
“Not Leon.”
“Then who?”
“Leon worked for someone.”
“Who?”
“I need to show you.”
He gave coordinates.
Nikolai refused to let Vera go alone.
Elias had anticipated that.
“Bring Voss.”
They met at an abandoned church.
Elias emerged from the shadows.
For several seconds brother and sister simply stared.
Then Vera crossed the distance.
She hugged him.
Elias froze.
Then his arms wrapped around her.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.
“I thought forgetting me would keep you safe.”
“You all need to stop deciding what keeps me safe.”
Elias laughed through tears.
“You sound exactly like Dad.”
Nikolai remained several feet away.
Elias looked at him.
“So you’re Nikolai.”
“And you’re the man whose organization has been threatening my estate.”
“Former organization.”
“Convenient.”
Vera stepped between them.
“Not tonight.”
Elias produced a folder.
Inside was the identity of the man who had authorized the Bellweather fire.
Sebastian Vale.
Nikolai recognized the name.
Everyone did.
Vale was a respected billionaire philanthropist who controlled an international logistics empire.
“He created Helian,” Elias said. “Leon was just regional management.”
“Why the Sullivans?”
“Dad found Vale’s accounts.”
“And now?”
“Vale believes the ledger can destroy him.”
Vera frowned.
“Then why not kill me?”
Elias looked at her.
“Because he thinks Dad encoded the ledger.”
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Using what?”
“You.”
Vera stared.
Elias explained that Daniel had designed the encryption around Vera’s childhood memories.
Places.
Dates.
Songs.
Only she could reconstruct the key.
“That’s why they need me alive.”
“Yes.”
Nikolai’s expression became dangerous.
“They won’t touch her.”
Elias looked at him for a long moment.
“You care about her.”
Vera looked away.
Nikolai did not.
“Yes.”
One word.
No hesitation.
Vera’s heart stumbled.
Elias almost smiled.
Then church lights suddenly came on.
Every door locked.
A speaker crackled overhead.
Sebastian Vale’s voice filled the church.
“Thank you, Elias.”
Elias reached for his weapon.
Vale laughed.
“You finally brought me both keys.”
“Both?”
Vera whispered.
May you like
Elias looked horrified.
Then the floor beneath Nikolai exploded.
