Chapter 20 - MARCUS REED
Matthew did not defend Marcus.
He called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Emily watched his face tighten.
“How long has he worked for you?”
“Twelve years.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
“That sounded fast.”
“Because I do.”
“So did my father trust Helen.”
The words landed hard.
Matthew looked away.
“Fair.”
Emily sighed.
“You really need another word.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“Not now.”
They returned to the city under state police escort.
At 9:40 p.m., Marcus walked into Rachel’s office carrying two coffees and looked confused by the guns pointed at him.
He froze.
“Bad time?”
Matthew stood.
“Phone.”
Marcus looked at him.
“What?”
“Give me your phone.”
Marcus set the coffees down.
One spilled.
“Those cost eight dollars each.”
“Marcus.”
Something in Matthew’s voice ended the jokes.
Marcus handed over the phone.
There was no call to Ambrose.
No message.
No deleted file.
The recording device from the lake house was played.
Marcus listened to his own voice say, “Understood.”
His face changed.
“That’s not me.”
Emily frowned.
“It sounds exactly like you.”
“I know what I sound like.”
Rachel said, “Voice cloning.”
Matthew looked at her.
“From what source?”
Marcus laughed without humor.
“I’ve been on security calls for twelve years. Pick one.”
Emily thought of her mother’s voice on Pike’s phone.
A copied voice.
The same tactic.
“Whoever is doing this wants us to turn on each other.”
Marcus picked up one of the coffees.
“That working?”
Emily looked at him.
“A little.”
He nodded.
“Reasonable.”
They reviewed the recording file.
Rachel’s technician found an editing artifact near the end.
A hidden metadata fragment survived.
Source device: HWS-04.
Helen Walsh Security Camera 04.
Helen had not recorded it.
Someone had cloned Marcus’s voice using audio pulled from Helen’s office security system.
That meant access to Hale Systems internal servers.
Matthew looked at Emily.
“Someone still has administrator credentials.”
“Peter?”
“No. His access was cut after the fire.”
“Helen?”
“Same.”
Emily thought of Diane.
“Diane?”
Rachel checked.
“Her account is suspended.”
“Then who?”
The technician turned his laptop.
One account had logged in forty-three minutes earlier.
ARTHUR.HALE.
Emily stared.
“My father’s account was disabled after he died.”
“It was,” the technician said.
“Someone reactivated it.”
“Who has permission?”
“Only root administrator.”
“Who is that?”
The technician hesitated.
“According to the current directory?”
“Yes.”
“Emily Hale.”
Everyone looked at her.
Emily laughed.
“I don’t know the password.”
Rachel said, “Someone does.”
The system log showed the login originated from East Dock.
Midnight was two hours away.
Matthew said, “We don’t go.”
Emily looked at him.
“We absolutely go.”
“Ambrose wants you there.”
“Which is why he’ll be there.”
“He may have Peter’s ledger.”
“And maybe Peter’s still not safe.”
Matthew shook his head.
“No.”
Emily’s expression hardened.
“You don’t decide.”
“I know.”
“Then stop saying no like it’s a lock.”
He exhaled slowly.
“Fine. I am asking you not to go.”
“Better.”
“Emily.”
“I’m going.”
Matthew stared at her.
Then he did something she did not expect.
He nodded.
“Then we plan around the fact that you’re going.”
At 11:46, they approached East Dock in an unmarked van with state police staged three blocks away.
Emily wore a wire.
Rachel made her repeat the emergency phrase three times.
“Red glass.”
“What if you forget?” Rachel asked.
“I won’t.”
“You forgot your own corporate proxy paperwork existed.”
Emily glared.
Rachel shrugged.
“Useful pain.”
Matthew checked the wire battery.
His fingers stopped before touching Emily’s collar.
“May I?”
She nodded.
He adjusted the microphone.
For a second they were too close.
Neither moved.
Then Marcus said from the front seat, “I can hear both of you breathing into comms, which is deeply unpleasant.”
Emily stepped back.
Matthew looked out the window.
At midnight, the warehouse doors opened.
Graham Ambrose stood inside alone.
No guards.
No Peter.
No ledger.
Emily entered.
Matthew remained outside as agreed.
Ambrose smiled.
“You came.”
“You asked.”
“You’ve had a busy two days.”
“It’s been one day.”
He looked mildly surprised.
“That’s worse.”
Emily almost laughed.
She hated him for nearly being funny.
“Where’s Peter?”
“Safe.”
“Where’s the ledger?”
“Also safe.”
“What do you want?”
Ambrose walked toward a steel table.
On it sat a laptop.
He turned the screen toward her.
A live video showed Diane in a concrete room.
Her hands were tied.
There was blood on her forehead.
Emily’s stomach dropped.
Ambrose watched her carefully.
“Your stepmother tried to become useful to police.”
Emily whispered, “What did you do?”
“Nothing yet.”
He placed one hand on the laptop.
“Sign control of Hale Systems to me, and Diane goes home.”
Emily looked at the screen.
Diane lifted her head.
She seemed to see the camera.
Her lips moved.
Emily leaned closer.
Diane mouthed one word.
RUN.
Then a gun clicked behind Emily.
Matthew’s voice came through the wire.
“Red glass, Emily. Say red glass.”
May you like
But the man holding the gun behind her was not one of Ambrose’s guards.
It was Peter Lang.
