Chapter 6 - THE FIRE AT WAREHOUSE SEVENTEEN
Warehouse Seventeen burned on Thursday morning.
At 4:06 a.m., Nora’s phone began ringing.
She answered half asleep.
Priya.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“O’Hare.”
Nora sat up.
“What happened?”
“Fire.”
Her blood went cold.
“Which facility?”
Priya paused.
“You know which one.”
Warehouse Seventeen.
The building holding the original shipping manifests Nora planned to inspect that afternoon.
By five-thirty, she was standing behind a police barrier watching smoke rise into the gray Chicago dawn.
Elias arrived ten minutes later.
He wore no overcoat despite the cold.
“Anyone hurt?”
“One security guard.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
Relief.
Fire investigators moved around the building.
The roof over the records annex had collapsed.
Exactly the section containing paper archives.
Nora stared.
“Coincidence?”
Elias answered:
“No.”
Detective Alvarez approached.
“Careful.”
She looked at both of them.
“Thinking something isn’t coincidence and proving arson are different things.”
Nora nodded.
“Any preliminary cause?”
“Electrical.”
Elias almost laughed.
Alvarez added:
“That doesn’t mean accidental.”
Good.
Warehouse Seventeen’s management office remained intact.
Nora and Priya were eventually allowed inside with investigators.
The servers had backups.
Paper manifests did not.
Nora walked through water and smoke damage.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Priya asked.
“The shelves.”
“What about them?”
Nora pointed.
“This archive is alphabetical.”
“Yes.”
“Look.”
Sections A through G burned heavily.
H through L too.
M?
Empty.
Not burned.
Empty.
“Midwest Meridian,” Priya whispered.
The company’s files had been removed before the fire.
Nora crouched.
Dust marks showed where boxes had sat recently.
“How recently?”
A fire investigator examined them.
“Hard to say.”
Nora noticed a torn label beneath the shelf.
MERIDIAN — 2022/2023.
Someone had taken exactly what she needed.
Then Elias appeared at the doorway.
“Security guard is awake.”
Nora followed him to the ambulance.
The injured man’s name was Harold Finch.
Sixty-four.
Worked nights.
Bandage around his forehead.
He looked at Elias.
“Mr. Kensington.”
“Don’t worry about work.”
Harold laughed weakly.
“I wasn’t.”
Good.
Detective Alvarez asked:
“Did you see anyone?”
Harold hesitated.
“One truck.”
“What truck?”
“Maintenance.”
“Company?”
“Kensington.”
Elias’s face hardened.
“What time?”
“Three twenty.”
“Scheduled?”
“No.”
“Who was driving?”
“Couldn’t see.”
“Badge?”
Harold nodded.
“Trent Holloway’s master credential.”
The missing security director.
Again.
Harold continued:
“I called dispatch.”
“What did they say?”
“That Mr. Holloway authorized emergency document removal.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“Removal?”
“Four boxes.”
There they were.
“Where did the truck go?”
Harold looked toward Elias.
“Downtown.”
“Which property?”
“I only saw route request.”
“Destination?”
Harold swallowed.
“Kensington Tower.”
Everyone went silent.
The evidence they thought had burned was moved into the building where Nora worked.
Maybe still there.
They returned immediately.
The maintenance truck entered Kensington Tower at 3:51 a.m.
Left at 4:17.
Empty.
Security footage showed two men carrying boxes into Freight Elevator B.
Then cameras went dark for eleven minutes.
Physical-security override.
Someone inside the tower knew they were coming.
Nora asked:
“Where does Freight B go?”
Elias answered:
“Every service floor.”
“Basement storage?”
“Yes.”
“Executive?”
“Yes.”
“Calvin’s floor?”
“Yes.”
“Charles?”
A pause.
“My uncle still has a private office on thirty-six.”
Of course.
Police obtained access logs.
Freight elevator stopped once.
Floor thirty-six.
Charles Kensington’s office.
Detective Alvarez smiled without humor.
“Now we have something.”
Charles arrived at 9:20.
Not because police summoned him.
Because Elias did.
The old man walked into the thirty-sixth-floor office wearing a camel coat and an expression of mild disappointment.
He kissed Elias’s cheek.
“Nephew.”
Elias did not move.
Charles looked toward Nora.
“And you must be Ms. Higgins.”
Nora stared.
“How do you know me?”
The smile did not change.
“You’re in the newspapers this morning.”
She wasn’t.
Not yet.
Detective Alvarez noticed.
Charles realized.
Barely.
Then corrected:
“Office gossip.”
Nora felt cold.
He was smooth.
Better than Bradley.
Better than Calvin.
Maybe because he had been doing this longer.
Elias gestured toward the empty records room.
“Four boxes entered your floor at four this morning.”
Charles removed his gloves.
“That sounds inconvenient.”
“Where are they?”
“I have no idea.”
“Security says they came here.”
“Security has been compromised, according to you.”
Fair.
Charles looked at Alvarez.
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I assume we’re finished.”
Elias stared at him.
“Did you know Bradley Jenkins before Nora met him?”
Charles’s eyes moved toward her.
“I meet thousands of people.”
“There are photographs.”
“Then apparently I met him.”
“Did you recruit him?”
“No.”
“Did Calvin?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You talked to Bradley for eight minutes before he approached Nora at the Christmas party.”
Charles smiled.
“Do you time all my conversations now?”
Nora watched him.
No defensiveness.
No panic.
That was the problem.
He believed they could not prove enough.
Charles walked toward the door.
Then paused beside Nora.
“I’m sorry about what happened in the garage.”
She said nothing.
“Some men handle rejection badly.”
Her stomach tightened.
He knew too much.
“Did Calvin tell you that?”
Charles looked amused.
“No.”
“How do you know Bradley thought this was about rejection?”
For the first time, Charles’s smile weakened.
Tiny.
But enough.
Then he left.
Elias stared at the closed door.
Nora said:
“He knows everything.”
“Yes.”
“But he thinks we don’t.”
“Yes.”
“Then we need the boxes.”
Alvarez’s phone rang.
She listened.
Then smiled.
“What?”
Nora asked.
“Fire investigators found accelerant.”
Arson.
And traffic cameras found the maintenance truck.
It had not returned to Kensington property after leaving the tower.
It drove west.
Then stopped beneath Lower Wacker.
A second vehicle met it.
Registered to Northgate Strategic.
Calvin.
The boxes had entered Charles’s floor.
Then left with Calvin’s company.
The chain was tightening.
But the biggest surprise came at noon.
Martin Beck woke up.
Nora raced to the hospital.
His face was bruised.
One eye swollen.
He smiled weakly when he saw her.
“Still alive.”
“Barely funny.”
“Sorry.”
She sat.
“Who attacked you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you run?”
“I didn’t.”
Nora froze.
“What?”
“Someone called me from Daniel’s number.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What did they say?”
“That the audit was compromised. Told me to take the backup and meet at the motel.”
“Daniel didn’t call.”
“I know now.”
“Backup?”
Martin smiled faintly.
“The real one.”
Nora leaned closer.
“You still have it?”
“No.”
Her heart sank.
Then he whispered:
“Priya does.”
Nora stared.
Martin continued:
“I gave it to her Monday.”
Priya had never told Nora.
“Why?”
“Because I thought somebody was watching you.”
He closed his eyes.
“And I was right.”
Nora stood.
Her phone was already in her hand.
Priya didn’t answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Nora felt cold.
The backup existed.
May you like
And if Charles knew Martin had given it away, there was only one other person on the audit team he would need to find.
Priya Shah.
