Chapter 4 - The Man Adrian Trusted
They escaped through Eli's backyard.
Adrian knew Victor would expect them to use the street.
So they didn't.
They crossed two yards, climbed a low fence, and reached an alley where Naomi called a rideshare using Eli's phone.
Ten minutes later they were moving toward the French Quarter.
Nobody spoke.
Daria kept seeing Victor Hale's smile.
Calm.
Confident.
As though he had already won.
“Was he involved?” she finally asked.
Adrian stared through the window.
“I don't know.”
“You recognized him.”
“He practically raised me professionally.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Adrian looked at her.
“When my father died, Victor kept the original laboratory alive. He found investors. He negotiated our first manufacturing contract.”
“So you trust him.”
“I did.”
The past tense mattered.
Naomi held the encrypted drive.
“We need somewhere offline.”
Adrian owned properties throughout the city.
He refused to use any of them.
“If Victor has access to corporate records, he'll know every address connected to me.”
Daria thought.
“My apartment.”
Adrian looked at her.
“They already know your mother's hospital.”
“They may know where I live too.”
“Then no.”
“My cousin's restaurant.”
“Connected to you.”
Daria suddenly remembered something.
“My father's workshop.”
It had been closed since his death.
A tiny repair shop near Bywater that Evelyn had never managed to sell.
Nobody at Thorn knew about it.
Forty minutes later, they were inside.
Dust covered the counters.
Old tools remained exactly where Daria's father had left them.
For one painful second, she could almost smell his coffee.
Eli connected an old laptop to the drive.
The files opened.
Hundreds of pages.
Patient records.
Internal emails.
Invoices.
Manufacturing logs.
Adrian read silently.
His face became harder with every page.
Naomi found the earliest TH-47 record.
Six years old.
Daria looked at Adrian.
“You said the project stopped six years ago.”
“It did.”
“Apparently not.”
The documents showed production restarting eighteen months earlier.
Small batches.
No official clinical-trial designation.
Patients were selected through financially struggling hospitals.
Most had advanced kidney disease.
People whose worsening health could disguise side effects.
Daria felt sick.
“They chose people nobody would question.”
Adrian said nothing.
Because that was exactly what it looked like.
Then Naomi found the money.
Crescent Meridian billed Thorn for “compassionate care logistics.”
Millions of dollars.
Authorized by executive signatures.
Victor Hale's appeared repeatedly.
But he wasn't alone.
One authorization carried Adrian Thorn's digital signature.
Daria stared.
Adrian went pale.
“I never signed this.”
“It says you did.”
“I didn't.”
Daria stepped away.
“Daria.”
“Don't.”
“My credentials were duplicated.”
“Convenient again.”
His jaw tightened.
“I shut down TH-47.”
“And apparently someone restarted it under your name.”
“Yes.”
“Or you restarted it.”
Naomi looked between them.
“Daria—”
“No. My mother could have died tonight.”
Adrian didn't defend himself.
That somehow made it worse.
Then he said, “You shouldn't trust me.”
Daria stopped.
“If I were you, I wouldn't.”
The admission disarmed her.
“But don't trust the documents blindly either,” he continued. “If Victor could manipulate patient records, he could manipulate signatures.”
Eli nodded.
“Digital signatures have authentication logs.”
They searched.
Adrian's authorization originated from his executive terminal.
A terminal inside his private office.
At 2:13 a.m.
On March 18.
Adrian stared at the date.
“I wasn't in New Orleans.”
“Where were you?” Daria asked.
“Boston.”
Naomi searched public records.
There it was.
Photographs from a medical conference.
Adrian speaking onstage in Boston at 9:00 the following morning.
Could he have flown overnight?
Possible.
Then Eli found security logs.
Adrian's office had been accessed at 2:06 a.m.
Badge owner:
VICTOR HALE.
Silence.
Adrian sat down.
The betrayal looked almost physical.
Daria understood something then.
Money did not protect people from betrayal.
Sometimes it merely made betrayal more profitable.
Adrian looked older than he had in the bathroom.
“What was Victor trying to accomplish?” Daria asked.
“TH-47 could be worth billions if it worked.”
“But it didn't.”
“Maybe he believed he could solve the cardiovascular complications.”
“By secretly testing it on sick people?”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“If these records are authentic, yes.”
Naomi suddenly gasped.
“What?”
She opened another folder.
Mortality reports.
Daria didn't want to look.
She did anyway.
Nine names.
Nine patients who had died after receiving TH-47.
Their deaths had been attributed to underlying renal disease.
Evelyn Rivers was not among them.
Yet.
Daria turned away.
Adrian closed the file.
“We go federal tonight.”
“How?”
Eli answered.
“My friend works for the U.S. Attorney's Office.”
Adrian shook his head.
“We need someone Victor can't anticipate.”
Daria remembered the shipment discrepancy.
The compliance officer who had acknowledged her report.
Rebecca Sloan.
“She contacted me directly.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Rebecca?”
“She asked why Martin told me to ignore the mismatch.”
Adrian reached for a phone.
“No electronic contact.”
They would go physically.
Rebecca lived across Lake Pontchartrain.
Before leaving, Daria called St. Catherine again.
Her mother's room didn't answer.
She called the nurses' station.
A different nurse answered.
“I'm calling about Evelyn Rivers.”
Silence.
“Ms. Rivers?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother's room is empty.”
Daria stopped breathing.
“What?”
“She was transferred.”
“Transferred where?”
“I don't know.”
Adrian took the phone.
“Who authorized it?”
More keyboard sounds.
The nurse sounded confused.
“The transfer order came from Thorn Patient Services.”
Daria looked at Adrian.
His face went white.
“That's impossible.”
“Where did they take her?” Daria demanded.
The nurse searched.
Then said something that turned Daria's blood cold.
“There isn't a destination listed.”
The call ended.
A second later, Daria's phone buzzed.
A photograph appeared.
Her mother was sitting in a wheelchair.
Behind her stood Martin Kessler.
Under the photograph was one sentence.
BRING THE DRIVE TO THORN LAB 7.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
COME ALONE.
