Chapter 7 - The Last Person I Expected
The mole was discovered three weeks later.
It wasn't a federal agent.
It wasn't a lawyer.
It wasn't one of Grant's executives.
It was Raymond Pierce.
The owner of Birch & Stone.
I stared at Daniel.
“No.”
“I checked the transfers.”
“That doesn't prove anything.”
“It does.”
Raymond had received payments from a consulting company connected to Victor.
I felt sick.
He had hired me knowing exactly who I was.
He had placed me in the restaurant.
He had told me to serve Grant that night.
My entire eleven-month disguise had been part of something larger.
I called him.
He answered calmly.
“Emma.”
“Why?”
A long pause.
“Because your father asked me to watch you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then why did you work with Victor?”
“I didn't.”
“You took his money.”
“I took his money to keep him away from you.”
It sounded insane.
But Daniel confirmed the transfers were small compared with the rest of the network.
Raymond had been playing both sides.
“He knew Victor was searching for you,” Daniel said.
“He put me in the restaurant because it was secure.”
I thought about it.
Birch & Stone had private entrances.
Excellent surveillance.
Staff turnover was low.
Rich clients created noise.
No one remembered waitresses.
Raymond had hidden me in plain sight.
Until Grant walked in.
Until the contract appeared.
Until I was forced to reveal myself.
Raymond met me the following day.
He looked exhausted.
“I am sorry.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“Why did everyone know more about my father than I did?”
“Because he wanted you to have a normal life.”
“That didn't happen.”
Raymond looked down.
“You were being watched.”
“By Victor?”
“By people working for him.”
He handed me a key.
“Your father left another office.”
“Where?”
“Under the old train station.”
I stared.
He smiled sadly.
“Your father loved hiding things under buildings.”
We found the office beneath Chicago Union Station.
There was no electricity.
No modern equipment.
Just paper.
Thousands of pages.
And a recording.
My father's voice filled the room.
“Emma, if you're listening to this, something went wrong.”
I stopped breathing.
He explained everything.
He had discovered Victor's operation.
He knew Grant was trying to leave it.
He knew Elias Ward wanted to replace Victor.
And he suspected the entire network would eventually target me.
But he also knew I would become good at logistics.
He believed I would see patterns others missed.
The final recording was heartbreaking.
“I am sorry I made you believe I was gone.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I needed them to believe you had nothing to inherit.”
I looked at Grant.
“What does that mean?”
He stared at an old legal document.
“The Carter Foundation.”
I read it.
My father had transferred controlling ownership of a logistics technology patent to the foundation.
The patent was worth hundreds of millions.
The technology tracked container movement using a secure decentralized ledger.
That was why Victor had been afraid of me.
The system could expose every phantom shipment.
My father had left it to me.
Not as money.
As proof.
The nine-hundred-million deal had been built to acquire Maddox Freight because that company had access to the remaining network data.
The real prize was my father's technology.
I looked at Grant.
“That's why they wanted me.”
“Yes.”
“Not just to silence me.”
“They wanted you to sign over the patent.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And they thought I was a waitress.”
Grant smiled.
“They made a costly mistake.”
Then a shot hit the window.
We ducked.
Another shot.
Grant pulled me behind a concrete column.
“I want you behind me.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“I know where the exit is.”
He looked at me.
“Of course you do.”
We escaped through a maintenance tunnel.
The attacker was never found.
But one thing was left behind.
A silver cufflink.
Not Victor's.
Not Elias's.
Julian's.
He had been cooperating.
But now Julian was dead.
The cufflink changed everything.
Because if Julian was involved, and he had already been taken into custody, someone was still controlling him from outside.
That person had enough power to reach investigators.
Enough money to manipulate companies.
May you like
Enough information to know my movements.
And enough courage to shoot at me in a crowded transit station.
