Chapter 4 - THE FIRE BENEATH ASTER VALE
Aster Vale Technologies had forty-three floors of glass, steel, patents, money, and carefully managed reputation.
At 2:11 that afternoon, smoke began pouring out of the underground archive.
Helena watched live emergency footage from Rebecca Sloan’s tablet while sitting beside her daughter’s hospital bed.
Firefighters moved through the lower service entrance.
Employees gathered behind barricades.
News vans had already arrived.
Nobody outside a handful of people knew what the archive contained.
That would not last.
“The vault?” Helena asked.
Rebecca listened through one earbud.
“Automatic suppression activated. Fire department says the flames were contained to two storage rooms.”
“Was Momo in one of them?”
Rebecca did not answer immediately.
Helena’s voice sharpened.
“Rebecca.”
“We don’t know.”
Grant stood near the window, arms folded.
“Assume whoever started it knew where to aim.”
Helena looked at him.
“My headquarters has biometric access.”
“And your security director may be involved.”
Her jaw tightened.
Marcus Hale.
Twelve years.
He had coordinated Helena’s travel.
He had carried Elodie from a car when she fell asleep after her sixth birthday party.
He knew which hotel rooms Helena preferred and which elevators she avoided.
He had sat outside hospital rooms when Elodie had the flu.
Trust again.
Always trust.
“Where is Marcus?” Grant asked.
Rebecca checked a message.
“Unaccounted for.”
Helena laughed once without humor.
“Of course.”
Grant looked toward Elodie.
The child had noticed the tension.
He signed:
WORK PROBLEM. YOU ARE SAFE.
Elodie stared at him.
Then signed:
YOU SAY SAFE A LOT.
Grant paused.
Smart kid.
BECAUSE ADULTS MAKE MESS.
Elodie nodded solemnly.
TRUE.
Helena saw the exchange.
For one instant, despite everything, her mouth softened.
Then Rebecca said, “The fire marshal found an accelerant.”
The softness vanished.
“Arson?”
“Preliminary.”
Grant pushed off the wall.
“Then we move now.”
Helena nodded.
No argument this time.
Elodie was discharged under a false administrative routing code arranged by outside counsel. Helena left through the main entrance with a security decoy, allowing cameras to capture her entering a black SUV.
Elodie left twenty minutes later wearing a red hoodie beneath a baseball cap, holding Grant’s hand.
No limousine.
No corporate security.
No entourage.
Just Grant’s ten-year-old pickup truck, a backpack, and a woman worth billions sitting in the passenger seat trying not to look horrified by the coffee stains on the console.
“This vehicle is a biological threat,” Helena said.
Grant started the engine.
“It has character.”
“It has something growing in the cup holder.”
“That belongs to Owen.”
From the back seat, Elodie signed:
BAD CAR.
Grant looked at her in the mirror.
“Traitor.”
She grinned.
Owen was waiting at Mrs. Keller’s house when they collected him.
He climbed into the truck with a backpack, a handheld game, and enough snacks for what appeared to be a three-month siege.
He looked at Helena.
“Are you really a billionaire?”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Owen.”
“What? Everybody at school knows.”
Helena surprised him.
“Technically my net worth fluctuates.”
Owen considered this.
“Cool.”
Then he looked at Elodie and signed:
YOU OKAY?
Elodie nodded.
ADULT MESS.
Owen glanced at Grant.
“Accurate.”
The drive east took nearly two hours.
Mount Hood grew larger beyond the highway.
City glass disappeared behind forests.
Cellular reception weakened.
Helena checked her phone every forty seconds until Grant finally said, “That thing is not going to produce better news because you stare at it.”
“I run a company.”
“You temporarily stepped away from the division involved.”
“I still run the rest.”
“You are also sitting in my truck wearing one of your daughter’s baseball caps.”
Helena touched the cap as if remembering it was there.
Owen whispered loudly, “Dad likes you.”
Grant nearly drove off the road.
Helena turned slowly.
Owen looked innocent.
Grant said, “You are walking to the cabin.”
“We’re going fifty.”
“Then start stretching.”
Elodie saw Helena laughing and began laughing too—part vibration, part breathy sound.
The noise made her stop.
Embarrassment crossed her face.
Owen signed immediately:
GOOD SOUND.
Elodie shook her head.
WEIRD.
MOST SOUNDS ARE WEIRD. MY DAD SNORES.
Grant stared into the mirror.
“I know enough ASL to understand slander.”
For almost five minutes, the truck felt like a family vehicle on an ordinary trip.
Then Helena’s phone vibrated.
Rebecca.
Helena answered.
Her face changed quickly.
“What survived?”
Grant glanced at her.
Rebecca’s voice was faint through the speaker.
“Most paper records are damaged. Digital archive mirrors were selectively erased ninety seconds before the fire alarm.”
Grant’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“Remote access?”
Rebecca heard him.
“We think local terminal.”
“User?”
“Marcus Hale.”
Helena closed her eyes.
There it was.
Her security director.
“But,” Rebecca continued, “there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“Marcus’s credentials accessed the terminal at 1:47.”
Helena frowned.
“So?”
“Building camera footage shows him entering the executive garage at 1:53.”
Grant caught it immediately.
“Six-minute gap.”
“Correct.”
“Could he get from archive to garage in six minutes?”
“Not physically.”
Helena looked at Grant.
“Cloned credential?”
“Or altered footage.”
Rebecca continued.
“And there’s more. Marcus’s car is still in the garage.”
“Where is Marcus?”
“We don’t know.”
Then silence.
Rebecca said, “Police opened the trunk.”
Grant felt the shift before she finished.
“Blood?”
Helena turned toward him sharply.
Rebecca said, “Yes.”
Owen and Elodie were in the back seat.
Grant kept his voice level.
“Enough to suggest injury?”
“A lot.”
Helena covered the phone.
“Pull over.”
Grant did.
They stopped at an overlook surrounded by cedar trees.
He stepped outside with Helena.
Cold air hit them.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Marcus might not be running.”
“You think he’s dead?”
“I think someone may want him to look guilty.”
Her face went pale.
“And then kill him?”
“Or use him until they don’t need him.”
Rebecca was still on the line.
Grant asked, “Any sign of struggle?”
“Not yet.”
“Find his phone.”
“Already off.”
“Family?”
“Wife died four years ago. One daughter in college.”
Helena suddenly looked sick.
“Madison.”
Grant watched her.
“You know her?”
“I paid her Stanford tuition.”
“That means Martin knows where she is?”
“Everyone does. Marcus talks about her constantly.”
Grant took the phone.
“Rebecca, tell police to put discreet protection on the daughter.”
“Already asking.”
Helena looked at him.
“Someone is hurting everyone around me.”
Grant handed back the phone.
“No.”
“What?”
“Someone is hurting people useful to the conspiracy.”
She stared.
“That is supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’s supposed to keep you thinking.”
They returned to the truck.
The cabin sat six miles off the main road beside a narrow river.
It belonged to Grant’s older sister, Leah, who lived in Arizona and used it only twice a year.
The place was modest.
Wood walls.
Stone fireplace.
Two bedrooms and a loft.
Owen entered first.
“I call loft.”
Elodie followed him.
Helena stopped at the doorway.
Grant looked back.
“What?”
“I don’t remember the last time I stayed somewhere without staff.”
“Try to survive.”
She looked around.
“You don’t have cameras?”
“No.”
“Alarm system?”
“Dog next door.”
“That is not an alarm system.”
“You haven’t met the dog.”
An hour later, Grant checked every room, window, vehicle track, exterior wall, and access point.
Helena watched him from the porch.
“You really can’t stop.”
“No.”
“Is that military?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
He looked toward the cabin where Owen and Elodie were playing cards at the table.
“Being a father.”
Helena said nothing.
The river moved below them.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she asked, “What happened to Owen’s mother?”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
Helena noticed.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was five years ago.”
“That doesn’t answer anything.”
He looked at her.
“No.”
The wind moved through the trees.
“Her name was Sarah.”
Helena waited.
Grant rarely said her name to strangers.
Helena was no longer exactly a stranger.
“She was an ER nurse. Night shift. Driving home. Drunk driver crossed the center line.”
Helena lowered her eyes.
“Owen was four.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“What everyone does when the impossible happens.”
“What?”
“Kept breathing because a child needed breakfast.”
Helena looked toward Elodie.
“I understand that.”
Grant believed her.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
He frowned.
Only a handful of people had this number.
He answered.
“Calder.”
Static.
Then breathing.
Weak.
A man.
“Grant?”
Grant’s body went rigid.
“Who is this?”
“Marcus Hale.”
Helena’s eyes widened.
Grant switched to speaker.
“Where are you?”
“Don’t know.”
Marcus coughed.
Something scraped.
“They took me.”
“Who?”
“Drey’s people.”
Helena covered her mouth.
Grant signaled for silence.
“Can you see anything?”
“Dark room. Concrete. Smells like fuel.”
“Are you injured?”
“They cut me.”
“Listen to me. Stay awake.”
Marcus laughed weakly.
“You the guard from the gala?”
“Yes.”
“You’re irritating.”
Helena almost made a sound.
Grant said, “I’ve heard.”
Marcus’s breathing became ragged.
“I didn’t hurt Elodie.”
Grant looked at Helena.
“I believe you enough to keep listening.”
“I found the house transmitters.”
“What?”
“Two months ago.”
Helena stepped closer.
“You knew?”
Marcus heard her.
“Helena?”
“Yes.”
“I tried to tell you.”
Her face broke.
“I never got anything.”
“I sent three reports.”
“Where?”
“Executive channel.”
Grant and Helena exchanged a look.
The same problem as Nora.
Information intercepted.
Marcus continued.
“Martin called me. Said the modules were part of a threat-detection upgrade.”
“You believed him?” Helena asked.
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you come to me?”
“I tried.”
His voice weakened.
“I started copying logs. Simon found out.”
Grant’s pulse slowed.
“Marcus, who is above Simon?”
Silence.
Then:
“Martin.”
“We know.”
“No.”
Marcus coughed hard.
“You don’t.”
Grant leaned closer to the phone.
“What do you mean?”
“Martin takes orders.”
Helena stared.
“From whom?”
A noise sounded on Marcus’s end.
Door.
Footsteps.
Marcus whispered quickly.
“The old board. Adrian knew. Momo. He hid—”
The line cracked.
Grant shouted, “Marcus!”
A man’s voice spoke faintly in the background.
“Give me the phone.”
Then a thud.
The call ended.
Grant immediately checked the incoming number.
Spoofed.
No trace.
Helena’s face had gone white.
“The old board.”
Grant nodded.
“Adrian said someone above Simon authorized Echo Veil.”
“Martin was CFO then.”
“And not the top.”
She looked toward the cabin.
“Who was?”
Grant already knew the names from the recording they had discussed.
“Board chair.”
Helena whispered it.
“Elise Warren.”
The woman who had been Adrian’s mentor.
The woman who had comforted Helena after the crash.
The woman who had held sleeping Elodie in her arms at the memorial service.
Grant stared into the darkening forest.
Then headlights appeared between the trees.
One vehicle.
Coming slowly up the private road.
Helena stopped breathing.
“Expecting someone?”
“No.”
Grant moved instantly.
“Inside.”
“Grant—”
“Inside now.”
He drew the legally carried pistol from beneath his jacket.
Owen appeared at the cabin door.
Grant pointed.
“Lights off. Back room.”
Owen did not argue.
Elodie saw his face and obeyed.
The approaching headlights vanished.
Engine off.
Silence.
Grant moved behind a tree.
Helena ignored his order and stood just inside the doorway holding a fireplace poker.
He almost cursed.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Hands raised.
Female.
Young.
“Please don’t shoot.”
Grant kept the weapon trained.
“Name.”
“Madison Hale.”
Helena stepped forward.
“Marcus’s daughter.”
Madison began crying.
“My father told me if anything happened, I was supposed to find Helena Mercer.”
Grant did not lower the gun.
“How did you find this place?”
Madison held up a small black drive.
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“My father did.”
She looked at Helena.
“He gave me an envelope two weeks ago. It had the cabin address.”
Grant and Helena exchanged a look.
Marcus had known Grant’s sister’s cabin?
Impossible.
Madison extended the drive.
“He said if he disappeared, this had proof that Elodie wasn’t the first child.”
Helena’s face drained.
“What did you say?”
Madison swallowed.
“Elodie wasn’t the first.”
And suddenly the conspiracy became larger than Helena’s daughter.
May you like
Much larger.
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