Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the Wheel
Adrian moved before Claire understood what was happening.
“Behind me.”
She stared at the wheelchair.
“You're serious?”
“Now.”
The door opened.
Marco drew his weapon.
A young orderly stepped inside carrying fresh linens.
He froze.
“Whoa.”
Marco searched him.
The terrified orderly had nothing except towels and an access badge.
Adrian ordered him out.
Claire released the breath she had been holding.
“You do this every time somebody enters?”
“Only when dead men send me messages.”
Claire looked at the phone.
“My father's recording.”
“Yes.”
“He died fifteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then how did somebody send it tonight?”
“That is an excellent question.”
Adrian transferred the file to Marco.
“Trace it.”
Marco left.
Claire moved closer.
“I want to hear the whole recording.”
“So do I.”
“You have it.”
“No. We have seventeen seconds.”
She frowned.
“The message sounded longer.”
“It was deliberately clipped.”
“By whom?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Claire crouched beside the wheelchair.
“You know something.”
“I know many things.”
“About my father.”
His eyes hardened.
“Claire.”
“Stop protecting me.”
“You have no idea what you're asking.”
“Then explain it.”
Adrian looked at her for a long moment.
“Your father didn't die in Afghanistan.”
Claire froze.
Every official document she had ever seen said Afghanistan.
“Where?”
“Another country.”
“Which one?”
“I can't tell you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because people are still alive who would kill to keep certain operations buried.”
“People like you?”
The question landed.
Adrian did not flinch.
“Sometimes.”
Claire stood.
“So the stories are true.”
“What stories?”
“That you're not just some retired officer.”
Adrian's gaze became cold.
Claire had researched him after seeing his photograph.
Adrian Vale owned shipping companies, private security firms, real estate, and several businesses that newspapers described using carefully chosen words.
Investigators had used less careful ones.
Organized crime.
Money laundering.
International smuggling.
Nothing had ever stuck.
“Are you Mafia?” Claire asked.
Adrian almost seemed bored.
“That's a word journalists like.”
“What word do you like?”
“Businessman.”
She stared.
He added, “Retired.”
“From which career?”
“Yes.”
Despite everything, Claire nearly smiled.
Then she remembered her father.
“Daniel knew this version of you?”
“No.”
“Would he have approved?”
“No.”
That answer surprised her.
Adrian looked toward the skyline.
“Your father knew a better man.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died too.”
Claire studied Adrian.
Perhaps the wheelchair was not the prison.
Perhaps the prison had existed long before the accident.
“You said you watched Dad die.”
“Yes.”
“Was he afraid?”
Adrian's face changed.
“No.”
“Did he say anything?”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Daniel's blood had soaked through Adrian's gloves.
There had been explosions outside.
They had been twenty minutes from extraction.
Daniel had known he had thirty seconds.
Find my girls.
Those had been his final words.
Adrian opened his eyes.
“He talked about you.”
Claire's composure broke.
“What did he say?”
“That you hated peas.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“He said you hid them under mashed potatoes.”
A laugh escaped her before becoming a sob.
Claire covered her mouth.
Adrian looked away, giving her privacy.
“He remembered that?”
“He talked about you constantly.”
Claire wiped her eyes.
“My mother told me he barely mentioned us on deployment.”
“He mentioned nothing else.”
For the first time, the terrifying Adrian Vale became simply the last person who had seen her father alive.
Claire pulled a chair beside him.
“Tell me something else.”
Adrian hesitated.
Then he did.
Daniel sang badly.
He cheated at cards badly.
He kept Claire's kindergarten photograph inside a waterproof pouch.
He once walked six miles carrying a stuffed rabbit because Claire had asked him to bring it home safely.
Claire laughed through tears.
For twenty minutes, the hospital disappeared.
Then Adrian shifted.
Pain flashed across his face.
Claire noticed immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop saying nothing.”
She checked him.
His muscles were rigid.
“You're having spasms.”
“I know.”
“When was your last medication?”
“Yesterday.”
Claire stared.
“You refused it all day?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It makes my head slow.”
“You need sleep.”
“I need control.”
Claire understood something then.
Adrian was not afraid of pain.
He was afraid of helplessness.
She prepared the prescribed medication.
He watched suspiciously.
“I'm not taking that.”
“Then I'm calling Dr. Mercer.”
“I'll fire him.”
“You can't fire the chief neurologist.”
“I can buy the hospital.”
Claire stared at him.
“Take the pill.”
“No.”
She held it out.
Their eyes locked.
Thirty seconds passed.
Adrian took it.
Claire smiled.
“Was that so difficult?”
“Yes.”
“Drama queen.”
Adrian looked genuinely offended.
Nobody had called him that in decades.
Claire turned away before he could see her smile.
An hour later, Adrian finally slept.
Claire remained beside him.
She watched his face relax.
Without the tension, he looked younger.
Human.
Her gaze fell to his hand.
A wedding ring remained on his finger.
Interesting.
She had found no wife in her research.
When Adrian woke, he found Claire studying it.
“My wife died.”
Claire looked embarrassed.
“I'm sorry.”
“Eleven years ago.”
“Children?”
“No.”
His voice ended the subject.
Claire nodded.
Then Marco returned.
He placed a tablet on Adrian's lap.
“We traced the message.”
“Where?”
Marco glanced at Claire.
“Inside the hospital.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“What floor?”
Marco didn't answer.
Adrian read the screen.
His expression became dangerous.
“Impossible.”
“What?” Claire asked.
Adrian turned the tablet toward her.
The message had originated from a hospital computer.
Room 4217.
Claire frowned.
“That room doesn't exist.”
“It does,” Marco said.
“What's in it?”
Marco looked at Adrian.
“Medical archives.”
Claire stood.
“Then let's go.”
“No,” Adrian said.
“You're not leaving me behind.”
“This could be a trap.”
“It's my father's voice.”
“That is exactly why it's a trap.”
Claire stepped toward the door.
Adrian caught her hand.
This time gently.
“Please.”
The word stopped her.
Adrian Vale did not say please often.
She looked down at him.
“I've spent twenty years not knowing.”
“I know.”
“Then don't ask me to stay here.”
He released her.
“Fine.”
Marco looked horrified.
“Boss.”
“We go together.”
They took the private elevator down one floor.
The corridor outside medical archives was empty.
Too empty.
Marco moved first.
Claire pushed Adrian's wheelchair.
They reached 4217.
The electronic lock had been disabled.
Marco opened the door.
Inside were shelves of records.
A computer glowed at the far end.
Someone had left it running.
Claire approached.
On the screen was a patient file.
ADRIAN VALE.
She scrolled.
The medical history looked normal.
Then she reached the surgical report from seven months earlier.
Claire stopped.
“What?”
Adrian rolled closer.
She pointed at a line.
FOREIGN MATERIAL REMOVED FROM T12 VERTEBRAL REGION.
“That isn't in your current chart.”
Adrian stared.
“What foreign material?”
Claire opened the attached scan.
A small metallic object appeared near Adrian's spine.
Not a bullet.
Not shrapnel.
A device.
Marco swore quietly.
Claire enlarged the image.
Adrian's accident had not merely injured him.
Someone had put something inside him.
Then the archive door slammed shut.
The lights went out.
A computer behind them turned on by itself.
May you like
One sentence appeared across the black screen.
GHOST WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
