Part 9
“I’m not in trouble, right?”
“No,” Naomi said.
“You say that like a person who arrests people.”
“I arrest people who are in trouble.”
Luis considered this. “That did not help.”
He placed a brass key on the table. A red plastic tag hung from it, stamped with the number 417.
“I found it where he stopped outside the closet,” Luis said. “I thought it might be for the case.”
“The case has a biometric lock,” Mara said.
“I didn’t get a good look. I was busy hiding beside bleach.”
Naomi sealed the key in a bag.
“Why didn’t you give this to the agents last night?” she asked.
Luis looked embarrassed. “I forgot.”
“You forgot evidence?”
“I worked another event this morning.”
Tessa stared. “You went to work?”
“My rent didn’t experience the penthouse.”
Naomi turned the tag over. Faded letters on the back read ERIE BASIN STORAGE.
The facility occupied a converted warehouse near the Red Hook waterfront. Daniel confirmed that unit 417 had been rented twelve years earlier under the name George Bell.
George Bell was the name Gabriel used for restaurant reservations when he wanted privacy.
Naomi sought a warrant. The process took most of the day because the key came from an uncertain chain of custody, the unit’s connection to Gabriel was circumstantial, and the archive might belong to a trust involved in civil litigation.
Mara waited in Daniel’s office, watching the river darken beyond the windows.
At four, Celeste arrived without invitation.
She wore a navy coat over the same ivory blouse from the gala. Her lipstick was perfect. A driver waited in the hall.
Daniel stood. “You cannot speak with my client without my consent.”
Celeste handed him a folder. “Your consent is inside.”
He opened it. The documents appointed his firm as temporary independent counsel to a committee of the Voss Meridian board.
Daniel read the first page. “This creates a conflict.”
“No. It offers you a choice.”
“You want me away from Mara.”
“I want the company represented by someone who has not spent twenty years eating from Adrian’s hand.”
“Then hire another firm.”
“I have. They are cowards.”
Mara remained by the window. “Did you send Adrian a photograph of the case?”
Celeste removed her gloves one finger at a time.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To force him into a visible move.”
“You used me.”
“I used everyone.”
“That isn’t a defense.”
“It was not intended as one.”
“Did you have my father taken from Lisbon?”
Celeste’s hands stopped.
Daniel quietly closed the office door.
Mara turned from the window. “Adrian says Orison brought him back.”
“Adrian says many things when frightened.”
“That isn’t a denial.”
Celeste placed the gloves on the table.
“Your father went to Lisbon to meet a banker who controlled records of the North Quay accounts. He planned to trade those records for immunity.”
Naomi had warned Mara that immunity was rarely as complete as people imagined. The word still struck her as betrayal.
“He was going to turn on Adrian?”
“And me.”
“Did you send Orison?”
“Yes.”
Tessa whispered something under her breath.
Celeste did not look at her.
“They found Gabriel before the banker arrived,” Celeste continued. “They persuaded him to return.”
“Persuaded?”
“He came home alive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Mara felt the office floor beneath her shoes, the cold from the window, and the faint soreness where the necklace had rested for years.
“Did they hurt him?”
“I was told they did not.”
“You paid people who kidnap executives, and you accepted their report.”
“I accepted his voice on the telephone.”
“What did he say?”
“That he had made a mistake.”
“Was he afraid?”
Celeste looked toward the river.
“Yes.”
The admission cost her something. Mara could see that, and hated her more for being human enough to feel it.
“My father died three weeks later.”
“Of a heart attack.”
“After you dragged him back.”
“After years of poor health, stimulant use, insomnia, and denial.”
“You knew about the heart condition?”
“I knew he refused medication.”
Mara crossed the room before she realized she had moved. Daniel stepped between them.
Celeste did not retreat.
“You told me he tried to stop the scheme,” Mara said.
“He did.”
“You didn’t tell me he started it.”
“He started something smaller. Men always believe corruption will respect the boundaries of their first intention.”
“And you?”
“I believed I could contain it.”
Mara laughed. “You still do.”
Celeste’s eyes sharpened.
“Where is the case?” she asked.
“You don’t know?”
“Patrick missed two check-ins. Orison’s vehicle was found empty near the river.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Adrian met with you, and because a key from the stairwell has led federal agents to Red Hook.”
Naomi emerged from the adjoining room.
Celeste looked mildly irritated. “Your office remains theatrical.”
“We have a warrant,” Naomi said. “You are not coming.”
“I do not need to.”
Mara studied her.
“You already know what’s in unit 417.”
Celeste picked up her gloves. “I know what was there twelve years ago.”
“What?”
“A room your father believed none of us could find.”
The storage facility manager wore a fleece vest and complained about the warrant while unlocking the interior gate. The building smelled of damp concrete, dust, and the salt-metal odor of the nearby basin.
Unit 417 stood at the end of a narrow corridor.
The brass key fit.
Naomi opened the rolling door while two agents waited behind her.
Inside was a small furnished room.
A narrow bed stood against one wall. Beside it sat a desk, a lamp, and an old electric kettle. Metal shelves held canned soup, bottled water, three dress shirts in plastic garment bags, and a stack of paperback mysteries. A framed photograph of Mara at fifteen leaned against a box.
No case.
May you like
Mara entered after the agents cleared the room.
Dust covered most surfaces, but a fresh mark crossed the desk where something rectangular had recently rested. On the floor lay a single drop of dried blood.
