Chapter 5 - The Corporate Trap
I didn't panic. A forensic accountant is trained to follow the data, and the data told me that Mercer was currently thirty seconds away from the office door.
I quickly slid the original will and the Helios contract into my jacket, pushed the safe door shut until it clicked, and slid the oil painting back into place. I couldn't use the main door; the corridor was a straight line with no cover.
I moved to the large, floor-to-ceiling window behind Mercer’s desk. It didn't open, but beside it was a small maintenance access panel used for cleaning the building’s exterior glass tracks. I threw the latch, slipped into the narrow, freezing crawlspace between the inner drywall and the outer glass skin of the building, and pulled the panel shut just as the office door burst open.
Through the tiny slat in the access panel, I watched Mercer stride into the room, his face flushed with anger, followed by two armed private security guards.
"Check the safe!" Mercer barked.
One of the guards moved the painting, checking the digital interface. "The lock is secure, sir. No signs of tampering."
Mercer let out a long, ragged breath, running a hand through his thinning hair. "The digital firewall at the Vale trust just reported an unauthorized audit from an internal node. I thought... I thought someone had broken in here to find the physical copies. If the independent protector system is triggered, the Helios deal is dead."
"The girl doesn't know anything, Mr. Mercer," the second guard said. "She was at the museum ten minutes ago, looking like she was about to cry into her soup. She doesn't have the stomach for this."
"Don't underestimate her," Mercer hissed, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his desk. "She’s Graham’s daughter. She has his blood. Watch her apartment tonight. If she so much as opens a laptop, take the drive and bring her to the warehouse. We finalize the Helios transfer at nine tomorrow, and after that, she can spend the rest of her life living on that three-thousand-dollar allowance in a federal cell."
They turned and left the office, the heavy glass door locking behind them.
May you like
I waited until the corridor lights dimmed before slipping out of the maintenance panel. My hands were freezing, my lungs burning from the dust, but as I looked down at the documents tucked safely against my ribs, a fierce, burning triumph filled my chest.
I accessed my phone, sending a single, encrypted text message to Detective Quinn: “The package is secure. Activate the District Attorney. We go to war at 9:00 AM.”
