Chapter 10 - CORMACK DID NOT COME THROUGH THE DOOR THIS TIME
The final trap belonged to Sloan.
Cormack hated that sentence.
He accepted it anyway.
Celia’s defense team had one missing piece.
The original Continuity Model server key.
Without it, prosecutors had copies.
Strong evidence.
But defense could attack authenticity and incomplete context.
Denise Calder had apparently removed the original encryption token before her death.
Emma did not know where.
Celia believed she did.
That explained the kidnapping attempt.
Morrow.
Settlement.
Everything.
Then Emma remembered her mother’s sewing box.
Not storage locker.
Home.
A wooden box no one had touched because it contained buttons, needles, thread.
Emma brought it to Sloan.
Inside the false bottom:
A hardware key.
Denise had hidden the most important evidence inside the most boring object she owned.
Sloan smiled sadly.
“Your mother was smart.”
Emma cried.
“Yes.”
The FBI copied the token.
Authenticated server archives.
Enough.
But Maren wanted Celia’s direct admission tying modern fraud to forged notary records and Riverline leverage.
Celia was in custody.
So who remained outside?
Malcolm Reeves.
Released under cooperation agreement after Table 12 attack.
He claimed he wanted to help.
Nobody trusted him.
Reeves offered a lead:
Celia maintained a private backup at a Riverline penthouse owned through shell company.
Sloan recognized the address.
One of the towers overlooking completed waterfront.
Celia had hidden her archive inside the development she wanted to control.
Poetic.
Dangerous.
Federal agents obtained warrant.
Then Reeves asked to speak with Sloan privately at the apartment before search.
Claimed he could show a concealed server room only Celia’s people knew.
Maren wanted controlled operation.
Sloan agreed.
Cormack said:
“No.”
Then caught himself.
Sloan waited.
He closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
“What are you actually saying?”
“I’m terrified.”
“Better.”
“I think Reeves may be playing both sides.”
“So do I.”
“I think the apartment could be trap.”
“So do I.”
“I want to be there.”
Sloan touched his hand.
“No.”
He looked away.
Seven years earlier, Sloan had needed Cormack to open the door.
Now?
She needed him to trust her walking through one with federal agents.
“Where will you be?”
she asked.
“Command vehicle.”
“Outside?”
“Yes.”
“Not entering unless law enforcement asks.”
He hated it.
“Yes.”
Sloan smiled.
“Thank you.”
The penthouse was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
White stone.
Glass.
Lake view.
No personal photographs.
No clutter.
Reeves entered first wearing an FBI recording device.
Sloan followed with Maren disguised as property counsel.
Agents waited in service corridor.
Reeves pointed toward built-in bookcase.
“Behind there.”
Sloan stared.
“You’ve been here before.”
“Yes.”
“With Celia?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Several.”
“Doing what?”
Reeves looked ashamed.
“Planning.”
Good.
He pressed hidden latch.
The bookshelf opened.
Server room.
Small.
Climate controlled.
Three racks.
One empty bay.
Sloan frowned.
“What’s missing?”
Reeves went pale.
“The backup array.”
“Who moved it?”
“I don’t know.”
Then the apartment door locked automatically.
Maren reached for radio.
Signal jammed.
Sloan’s stomach dropped.
Reeves whispered:
“She knew.”
A voice came through speaker.
Celia.
Recorded or live?
“Malcolm.”
Reeves looked toward ceiling.
Celia continued:
“You always did panic before finishing.”
Sloan’s pulse changed.
Celia was in federal detention.
Could have scheduled system.
Or accomplice.
Then another person stepped from hallway.
Grant Morrow’s brother.
Eli Morrow.
Mechanic.
The man who serviced Denise’s car.
He held a pistol.
Reeves went white.
“No.”
Eli smiled.
“My brother’s facing life because you talked.”
Maren moved slightly.
Eli pointed gun.
“Don’t.”
Sloan stared.
Outside, Cormack watched a security monitor go black.
His entire body changed.
Fitz saw.
“Boss.”
Cormack reached for door.
Then stopped.
He had promised.
Federal tactical commander said:
“We’re working entry.”
“How long?”
“Two minutes.”
Cormack stared toward tower.
Every instinct screamed.
Go.
Break.
Take control.
Then he looked at Fitz.
“If I enter, I make myself another problem.”
Fitz said nothing.
Cormack’s hands shook.
“Tell me when you have breach.”
Inside, Sloan kept Eli talking.
“You killed Denise?”
His face hardened.
“No.”
“My brother scared her.”
“Your company serviced her steering module.”
“She should’ve stopped.”
There.
Same language.
Sloan continued.
“She should have taken the settlement?”
Eli froze.
He recognized phrase.
“You people always think saying that makes someone responsible for what you did.”
Maren shifted.
Eli saw.
Gun moved.
Reeves lunged.
Bad choice.
Gun fired.
Reeves fell.
Shoulder.
Alive.
Maren tackled Eli.
Sloan grabbed the gun when it skidded.
Did not aim.
Kicked it away.
Federal agents breached eleven seconds later.
Cormack remained outside.
Exactly as promised.
When Sloan exited the tower, blood on sleeve that was not hers, Cormack stood behind perimeter tape.
He did not cross.
He waited until Maren nodded.
Then approached.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can I touch you?”
Sloan began crying.
“Yes.”
Cormack held her.
Hard.
Then laughed once through tears.
“You took forever.”
She pulled back.
“What?”
“To come out.”
“Three minutes.”
“Incorrect.”
She smiled.
“You stayed outside.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He looked at her.
“Badly.”
She laughed.
That mattered.
Cormack had not abandoned her.
He had trusted the people whose job was entering armed rooms.
That was different.
Reeves survived.
Eli Morrow was arrested.
The penthouse server room contained records.
Not original array.
But enough to identify where it went:
An off-site data vault beneath the old Halcyon Club.
Suite Six building.
Of course.
May you like
The story kept folding back onto itself.
The place where Sloan had once been taken against her will now hid the archive that could finally end the network built around believing people were assets.
