Chapter 2 - The Price of Knowing Too Much
Nora stared at the paper bag as if it had personally betrayed her.
“Those were dinner,” she said.
“Dinner,” Adrian repeated.
“It was a long night.”
“It appears to have lasted three days.”
Caleb turned toward the window. His shoulders moved once, suggesting he was trying not to laugh.
Nora noticed.
“I'm glad someone finds this entertaining.”
“I haven't said anything,” Caleb replied.
“You're doing it silently.”
For the first time that night, something almost resembling amusement crossed Adrian's face. It vanished before she could decide whether she'd imagined it.
Then he pointed at the laptop.
“Explain the six-point-eight million.”
Nora's embarrassment disappeared.
She stood, collected the loose spreadsheets, and placed them in a precise stack. Her hands were steady now, although the faint shadows beneath her eyes suggested she had been running on caffeine and stubbornness for far too long.
“The northern freight division has been reporting losses for eleven months. Initially, I assumed the problem was inefficient routing. Then I compared fuel invoices against port records, insurance claims, and the actual number of containers processed.”
“And?”
“The invoices describe shipments that never existed.”
Adrian moved closer to the screen.
Nora opened a spreadsheet.
“Meridian Northern Logistics paid a company called Red Harbor Consulting for emergency fuel deliveries. Red Harbor then transferred most of the money to a Delaware holding company. That company paid an investment fund in the Cayman Islands.”
“Legal?”
“The paperwork is legal-looking. That's not the same thing.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“How much?”
“Six million, eight hundred and forty-two thousand dollars that I can trace. There may be more.”
“Who authorized the payments?”
“The signatures were electronically authenticated under Mason Vale's executive credentials.”
Silence filled the archive.
Adrian had expected the name. He had not expected to hear it spoken so plainly.
“Mason has access to my credentials,” he said.
“That doesn't prove he authorized anything.”
“Are you defending him?”
“I'm defending the difference between evidence and suspicion.” Nora held his gaze. “You hired an auditor. If you wanted someone to tell you your cousin was guilty, you could have saved yourself the expense.”
Caleb turned away from the window.
This time, he was definitely smiling.
Adrian didn't.
“Do you understand what happens to people who investigate my organization without permission?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“They lose their contracts?”
“Try again.”
Nora swallowed.
“Some people lose considerably more than their contracts.”
“Yet you kept going.”
She looked down at the documents.
“I found a discrepancy. I followed it. Then I found another one.”
“That doesn't explain why you're sleeping in a restricted archive.”
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she opened the side pocket of her bag and removed a small envelope. Inside were three receipts, a folded notice, and a prescription bottle.
“My apartment building had a burst pipe on Monday. The landlord shut off the water and electricity in my unit while the damage was being repaired. He says it'll take another week.”
“Hotels exist,” Adrian said.
“So do rent payments, medical bills, and professional insurance premiums.”
Her tone remained controlled, but a flush crept up her neck.
“I wasn't asking for sympathy, Mr. Vale. I had secure access to the building, a working computer, and records I needed to reconcile. I thought I'd finish before anyone noticed.”
“You thought you'd live in my office until you finished a forensic audit?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds unreasonable.”
“It is unreasonable.”
“Then I suppose we're both having an educational evening.”
Caleb cleared his throat.
Adrian ignored him.
“Why didn't you tell Fairmont Advisory?”
“I did. My supervisor told me to stop examining the shell companies and submit the preliminary report by Friday.”
“Who is your supervisor?”
“Daniel Price.”
Adrian recognized the name. Price had been Fairmont's liaison with Meridian for two years.
“What did you do?”
“I asked him to put the instruction in writing.”
“And?”
“He called me instead.”
Nora removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“He said I was confusing routine accounting irregularities with criminal misconduct. Then he asked whether I understood how damaging an unsupported allegation could be to my career.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It was a warning dressed up as professional advice.”
Adrian studied her face. She wasn't frightened of him in the way most people were. She was frightened of losing something she had worked hard to build.
That was different.
“What did you find in the restricted ledgers?” he asked.
Nora hesitated.
“Something that doesn't belong in an ordinary corporate audit.”
“Show me.”
She turned to a handwritten ledger from the bottom of the stack.
Several entries had been marked with narrow strips of yellow paper. Beside each payment was a code consisting of a date, a location, and a set of initials.
“These aren't freight expenses,” she said. “They're payments to individuals. Some have no tax documentation. Some are recorded as consulting fees, but the recipients are security contractors.”
“Names?”
“Mostly shell companies. I traced three recipients to businesses that no longer exist.”
Adrian turned a page.
His jaw tightened.
One entry was dated the night his father died.
Another was dated two days before Adrian inherited control of the family business.
A third carried the initials A.V.
His initials.
“What is this?” he asked.
“I don't know.”
“Then why mark it?”
“Because someone removed the corresponding pages from the electronic archive. The paper records are the only surviving copies I could find.”
Adrian looked at Caleb.
“Who has archive access?”
“Four people, including you. Mason, myself, and the corporate records director.”
“Who is the director?”
“Victor Hale.”
Adrian shut the ledger.
Victor had managed the company's records for twenty-two years. He had attended Adrian's father's funeral and helped Adrian learn the business when grief made the world seem unreal.
Another familiar name.
Another possible betrayal.
“Ms. Bennett,” Adrian said, “you will stop working on these records until I determine who else knows what you've found.”
Nora stiffened.
“You can't confiscate my findings.”
“I can restrict access to my property.”
“The report belongs to Fairmont Advisory.”
“The restricted ledgers do not.”
She gathered her laptop.
“Then I'll submit the report through my firm and let the proper authorities decide what happens next.”
Adrian stepped between her and the door.
“Who else has seen your findings?”
“My supervisor knows I've identified irregularities.”
“Anyone else?”
She looked at the screen.
A small notification had appeared in the corner of her laptop.
REMOTE ACCESS REQUEST: ACCEPTED.
Nora went pale.
Adrian saw it.
“Who is connected to your computer?”
“I don't know.”
She clicked the security panel. The connection disappeared.
Then a new message appeared.
STOP LOOKING. YOUR BROTHER ALREADY PAID THE PRICE.
Nora stopped breathing.
Adrian watched her face change.
Not fear of losing a job.
Not embarrassment.
Recognition.
He took one step closer.
“Ms. Bennett,” he said quietly, “what happened to your brother?”
She closed the laptop.
May you like
For the first time since Adrian had entered the archive, Nora looked as though she might run.
And that was when the lights went out.
