Part 10
“Dwyer was here,” Naomi said.
An agent found a first-aid wrapper in the trash. Another discovered wet shoe prints near a rear ventilation panel.
Tessa picked up one of the paperbacks.
“Your father read this?”
“He said mysteries cheated.”
“He owned six by the same author.”
“He said hating them kept him alert.”
The memory hurt in a way the financial records did not. Mara sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress sagged beneath her. Gabriel had slept here while telling her the Connecticut house was being repaired.
On the desk stood an old cordless phone disconnected from its base.
Mara lifted it.
Something rattled inside.
Naomi took the phone, opened the battery compartment, and removed a folded strip of paper.
Four lines were written in Gabriel’s handwriting.
The river forgets nothing.
Ask Celeste about March 14.
Do not trust the clean copy.
Mara is not responsible for what she did not know.
Mara read the final line twice.
She wanted comfort from it. Instead she felt anger.
He had known she might become entangled. He had known enough to write her name in a hidden room, yet he had left her with Adrian, with signatures, with a company built on concealed payments.
“What happened on March fourteenth?” Naomi asked.
“I don’t know.”
Tessa was examining the framed photograph.
“This was taken at your school?”
“Yes.”
“Look at the glass.”
A reflection showed the person holding the camera.
Not Gabriel.
Patrick Dwyer.
Mara took the frame. On the back, written in the same handwriting as the note, was an address in Long Island City.
Naomi’s team checked it.
The address belonged to a disused Voss Meridian testing facility beside the river.
The company had closed it seven years earlier after flood damage. Officially, the building contained obsolete electrical equipment awaiting disposal. Unofficially, Celeste’s family trust still paid the property taxes.
They reached the facility after dark.
Rain had started again, lighter than the storm at the penthouse. The building stood behind a rusting fence, its brick walls streaked black beneath boarded windows. Across the river, Manhattan glittered with the indifference of a place too large to recognize individual ruin.
The main gate was unlocked.
Inside, tire tracks crossed the wet concrete.
Naomi ordered Mara, Daniel, and Tessa to remain in the vehicles. Mara agreed, then left the car as soon as the agents entered the building.
Daniel caught up with her near the loading dock.
“This is why clients are difficult.”
“You could stay in the car.”
“I am professionally incapable of good judgment.”
They entered through a side door.
The facility’s old test floor rose three stories around them. Gantries crossed overhead. Rows of silent control cabinets stood beneath emergency lights powered by a portable generator.
At the far end, Patrick Dwyer sat on the floor with his back against a concrete column.
The black case rested across his knees.
His tuxedo jacket was gone. A crude bandage wrapped his head. One hand pressed against his abdomen, where blood darkened his shirt.
Naomi crouched several feet away. “Patrick, keep your hands visible.”
“They’re visible.”
“We have medical help coming.”
“No ambulances.”
“You need one.”
“They monitor emergency dispatch.”
“Who?”
“Orison.”
Mara stepped into the light.
Dwyer’s eyes found her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m beginning to hear that a lot.”
He gave a weak laugh, then winced.
The case appeared unchanged from the penthouse. Same reinforced corners. Same fresh scratches. Same silver biometric lock. The small indicator beneath it blinked blue at steady intervals.
“Did Celeste tell you to bring it here?” Mara asked.
“No.”
“Did Adrian?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Dwyer looked around the abandoned facility.
“Your father built this lab before the company had money. He used to sleep upstairs during tests. When things got bad, this was where he came.”
“You knew about the storage unit.”
“I found him there once.”
“Why was your photograph in his room?”
Dwyer closed his eyes for a moment. “I took you to school events when he was working. You probably don’t remember.”
She did not.
“Who shot you?” Naomi asked.
“Orison team at Pier Eleven. I drove through the gate before they boxed me in.”
“How did you get here?”
“Stole a delivery van.”
Tessa, behind Mara, whispered, “That seems more crime-shaped.”
Dwyer heard and smiled faintly.
Naomi said, “Slide the case toward me.”
“No.”
“Patrick.”
“The lock is armed.”
“What does that mean?”
Dwyer looked at Mara’s throat, then realized the necklace was not there.
“The credential.”
“It’s at the hotel,” Mara said.
“Good.”
Naomi’s patience thinned. “Explain the lock.”
“Gabriel built the archive to require two authorizations. His biometric profile and a rotating credential held by Celeste. After he died, Celeste modified the system. The necklace credential wakes the lock. Mara’s biometric opens it.”
Mara stared at him. “Mine?”
“Your father added you before Lisbon.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“Against what?”
“Celeste.”
The generator hummed in the silence.
Dwyer continued. “The scanner at the penthouse confirmed the credential was present. When Adrian struck the case, the tamper sensor armed the lock. Now it will open only for Mara, and only while the credential is active.”
“What happens if someone forces it?” Naomi asked.
“The internal drive encrypts permanently.”
“Why did Mara tell me not to let Adrian open it?” Tessa asked.
Mara answered without looking away from the case. “Because I thought he could.”
Dwyer shook his head. “Celeste let all of us think that.”
Naomi reached for her radio.
A metallic sound echoed above them.
Everyone looked up.
A figure moved along the gantry.
Then another.
The emergency lights went out.
Naomi shouted for cover.
Mara dropped behind a test cabinet as glass shattered somewhere overhead. No gunfire followed. Instead, a white vapor began pouring from vents near the ceiling.
“Fire suppression,” Dwyer called. “They triggered the old system.”
May you like
The vapor thickened, cold and chemical. Naomi’s agents moved through it with flashlights. A door slammed on the far side.
Daniel pulled Mara toward the loading dock. She resisted.
