Chapter 5 - The Attorney's Ledger
The video cut to black. Sarah stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, the towering glass monolith of the Wall Street high-rise looming just a block away.
"They have him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "They have Arthur. They have the ledger."
Hale pulled Sarah into the alcove of a closed bank branch, shielding her and Emma from the casual glances of pedestrians. "It’s a trap, Sarah. They know you have nowhere else to go. If they had the ledger and didn't care about you, they’d be gone by now. They need you because there’s something missing."
Sarah's mind scrambled through the details of her final days at Caldera. "The encryption key," she realized suddenly. "The ledger I gave Arthur was written in a standard corporate shorthand, but the digital files—the actual bank transfers—are locked behind a two-factor cryptographic key that was assigned to my biometric data before I resigned. They can't access the money or clear the ghost fleet's manifests without my live authorization."
"Which means they need you alive. At least long enough to press your thumb against a scanner," Hale said, checking the magazine of her service weapon. "How many men do you think are up there?"
"The video showed at least two," Sarah said. "The one holding the phone and whoever is holding Arthur."
"We can't go through the front lobby," Hale said, looking up at the security cameras mounted on the exterior of the building. "The building security guards are likely either compromised or incapacitated. Is there a freight entrance?"
"Yes," Sarah said, recalling her meetings with Arthur. "The building has a subterranean loading dock for the gold and currency exchanges on the lower levels. It connects to the service elevators."
They moved quickly, slipping down a narrow alleyway that smelled of damp cardboard and steam vents. Hale used her Port Authority badge and a heavy tactical knife to jemmy the electronic latch of the service door—a trick she had picked up during port security audits.
The interior of the building’s basement was silent, illuminated by harsh white fluorescent tubes. They found the service elevator, its steel doors scuffed and dented. Hale pressed the button for the 14th floor, where Vance’s office was located.
As the elevator climbed with a mechanical hum, Sarah turned to Emma. She knelt down, taking her daughter’s face in her hands. "Emma, I need you to do something very brave. When these doors open, you are going to hide in the janitor’s closet right next to the elevator bank. Do not come out unless it’s me or Rebecca calling your name. Do you understand?"
Emma’s lips trembled, but she nodded, holding her red backpack like a shield. "I’ll be quiet, Mom. I promise."
The elevator dinged, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet corridor. The doors slid back to reveal the plush, carpeted hallway of Vance & Associates.
The air was heavy with the smell of expensive cologne and ozone.
Sarah and Hale stepped out, Emma slipping immediately into the dark recess of a nearby utility closet. Hale held her pistol raised, her body low as they approached the frosted glass doors of the law firm.
The glass was shattered outward, fragments glittering on the Persian rug like spilled ice.
Inside, the reception desk was abandoned. A single line on the telephone console was blinking red. From the back office, the low sound of Arthur Vance’s groaning could be heard, followed by the sharp, cruel sound of a hand striking flesh.
May you like
"Where is the key, Arthur? She would have given you the recovery phrase," a voice demanded—the same smooth, unhurried voice from the video.
Hale glanced at Sarah, giving her a silent count with her fingers. Three. Two. One.
