Chapter 2 - The Drive in My Pocket

The black sedan stayed three cars behind us through two lights.

I kept turning in my seat until Martin noticed.

“Stop looking,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because if they know you’ve made them, they change tactics.”

I stared at him.

“That sounded disturbingly professional.”

Martin kept both hands on the wheel. “I worked patrol before corporate security. Twelve years.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“You never asked.”

The sedan changed lanes when we did.

My phone buzzed again.

LAST WARNING.

I showed Martin.

His jaw tightened. “Put the phone on airplane mode.”

“Can they track it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’d rather not find out at sixty miles an hour.”

I switched it off.

“You said the hospital needed my statement.”

“They do.”

“And you’re still going there?”

“Yes.”

“Even with them behind us?”

“Especially with them behind us.”

Martin took the next exit without signaling until the last second. The sedan missed it, but only because a delivery truck blocked the lane.

I exhaled.

“That bought us maybe two minutes,” he said.

“You’re very comforting.”

“I get that a lot.”

The emergency entrance of Northwestern Memorial glowed ahead through the snow. Martin pulled beneath the awning, and I saw two police officers beside the doors.

“Good,” I said.

“Don’t relax yet.”

“I’m beginning to dislike you.”

“That’s also common.”

We hurried inside.

A nurse met us near triage. “Are you the woman who performed CPR?”

“Yes.”

“Doctor wants the timeline.”

“Is he alive?”

She hesitated.

My stomach dropped.

“He has a pulse. He’s in critical condition, but he made it upstairs.”

I closed my eyes.

Martin touched my shoulder.

“Breathe, Maya.”

“I am breathing.”

“Not very convincingly.”

The nurse led me to a consultation room. A detective took my statement while another officer spoke with Martin in the hall.

“What time did you find Mr. Cole?” the detective asked.

“Eleven forty-seven.”

“You’re certain?”

“The elevator display showed the time. I checked my phone when I called security.”

“Was anyone else present?”

“No.”

“Anything disturbed?”

“The laptop bag.”

“How?”

“The strap was cut.”

The detective’s pen paused.

“Cut?”

“Yes.”

“Did you touch the bag?”

“No.”

“Anything else?”

I thought about the flash drive in my pocket.

My pulse accelerated.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Mr. Cole tried to say something.”

“What?”

“Laptop. Then, ‘Don’t let…’ He couldn’t finish.”

The detective wrote it down.

“Don’t let who?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a knock.

Richard Vale entered without waiting for permission.

The detective frowned. “Sir, this is a witness interview.”

“I’m aware. I’m Richard Vale, Mr. Cole’s chief operating officer.”

“I know who you are.”

Richard looked at me.

“You told the police he spoke?”

I felt cold despite the heated room.

“I told them what happened.”

His gaze dropped toward the pocket of my work jumpsuit.

It lasted less than a second.

I noticed anyway.

The detective stood. “Mr. Vale, outside.”

Richard did not move.

“Did Adrian identify anyone?” he asked.

“No.”

“Did he give you anything?”

The room became very quiet.

The detective stepped between us. “That’s enough.”

Richard smiled faintly.

“I’m trying to help.”

“Then help from the hall.”

Richard left.

I waited until the door closed.

“Detective,” I said.

“Yes?”

“That man was in the lobby before the ambulance left.”

“So?”

“He asked the same question then. What Adrian said.”

The detective studied me.

“You think that matters?”

“I think he cared more about Adrian’s words than Adrian’s pulse.”

He wrote that down too.

When the interview ended, Martin was waiting near the vending machines.

“You tell them about the drive?” he asked.

“No.”

He stared at me.

“Maya.”

“I was going to.”

“That is the least convincing sentence you’ve said tonight.”

“I need to know what’s on it first.”

“No, you need to hand it to the police.”

“What if Richard has people in the building?”

“This is a hospital, not Cole Meridian.”

“He found me in the lobby at midnight. Someone knew I picked it up. Someone had my number within minutes.”

Martin rubbed his face.

“You have it on you?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

I looked around.

“No.”

He almost laughed.

“You really don’t trust anyone.”

“I trusted plenty of people yesterday.”

“And today?”

“Today I broke my employer’s ribs, got threatened by an unknown number, and discovered the billionaire I resuscitated may have been attacked by someone inside his own company.”

“Fair point.”

A woman in a camel coat strode toward us. She was in her early thirties, dark hair twisted into a severe knot, snow melting on the shoulders of her coat.

“Martin Hale?”

Martin straightened.

“Yes.”

“I’m Claire Cole.”

Adrian’s sister.

I had seen her once in a company article from three years earlier, back when she served as general counsel.

She looked at me.

“You’re Maya Chen.”

“How do you know my name?”

“The emergency physician told me who performed CPR.”

Claire’s voice broke on the last word.

The change in her face was so sudden that my suspicion weakened.

“Is he…” I began.

“Alive.”

She swallowed.

“Barely, but alive.”

I nodded.

Claire stepped closer.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.”

Her eyes filled, but she did not cry.

“The doctor said another minute without circulation could have changed everything.”

I looked away.

“I just did what I was trained to do.”

“And most people freeze.”

Martin cleared his throat.

“Ms. Cole, Richard Vale is here.”

Claire’s expression hardened instantly.

“I saw him.”

“You don’t sound pleased.”

“I haven’t been pleased to see Richard in six years.”

“Why?” I asked.

She glanced toward the elevators.

“Because the last time I accused him of manipulating company records, my brother chose peace over a war he thought would destroy the firm.”

I went still.

“Manipulating what records?”

Claire looked at me more carefully.

“Why are you asking?”

Martin answered before I could.

“Because we think tonight wasn’t an accident.”

Claire’s face drained of color.

“What did Adrian say?”

“Laptop,” I said. “Then he tried to say ‘don’t let’ something.”

Claire closed her eyes.

“Oh, Adrian.”

“You know what that means?”

“Maybe.”

She lowered her voice.

“He called me yesterday morning. First time in four months.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he had proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“He wouldn’t explain over the phone. He said, ‘Lantern is real.’”

Martin frowned.

“Lantern?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Yes.”

Claire looked directly at me.

“He told me if anything happened to him, I was not to trust company security, executive management, or anyone who arrived claiming to protect his interests.”

Martin raised an eyebrow.

“That’s broad.”

“My brother was not a subtle man when he was afraid.”

Footsteps approached.

Richard stopped several feet away.

“Claire.”

“Richard.”

“Family only is permitted upstairs.”

Claire gave him a cold smile.

“Then you should be downstairs.”

Richard’s jaw flexed.

“The board is being notified. We need continuity plans.”

“My brother has been in intensive care for less than an hour.”

“And the company employs thirty thousand people.”

“He is not dead.”

“I didn’t say he was.”

“You don’t have to.”

Richard looked at Martin.

“You should return to the building.”

“I’m assisting police.”

“You work for Cole Meridian security.”

“I work for Sentinel Protective under contract.”

“Then I’m instructing Sentinel to replace you.”

Martin folded his arms.

“You can call them.”

“I intend to.”

Richard’s eyes moved to me.

“And you should go home, Maya.”

I smiled without humor.

“I thought you didn’t know me.”

He paused.

“You wear an identification badge.”

“My badge says M. Chen.”

For the first time, Richard had nothing ready.

Claire noticed.

So did Martin.

Richard recovered quickly.

“You’ve had a traumatic evening. I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Then stop telling me what to do.”

He stepped closer.

“Some situations are larger than the people who accidentally walk into them.”

Claire moved between us.

“Was that a threat?”

“No.”

“It sounded like one.”

Richard’s smile returned.

“You always did hear conspiracies in ordinary sentences.”

“And you always did hide knives inside ordinary sentences.”

The elevator opened behind him.

Two men in suits stepped out.

Company counsel.

Richard turned away.

“We’ll speak when Adrian is stable.”

“No,” Claire said. “You’ll speak when he asks for you.”

He left with the lawyers.

Martin exhaled.

“I’m beginning to understand the family history.”

Claire watched Richard disappear around the corner.

“He knows something.”

“Yes,” I said.

She looked at me.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

I touched the pocket holding the flash drive.

Martin shook his head.

“Maya.”

“I know.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed.

“You found something.”

I took out the drive.

Her face changed.

“Where did you get that?”

“It fell from Adrian’s pocket.”

Claire whispered, “God.”

“You recognize it?”

“He showed me a photo of it yesterday.”

“What’s on it?”

“He said it was the reason he could finally prove Lantern existed.”

Martin looked toward the nurses’ station.

“We turn it over now.”

Claire caught his wrist.

“Not yet.”

He stared at her.

“You too?”

“My brother specifically told me not to trust the first official chain of custody presented to me.”

“That is not how evidence works.”

“It is when a corporation with its own legal department can bury evidence under privilege before sunrise.”

I looked from one to the other.

“What do we do?”

Claire thought for several seconds.

“Make a verified copy on a machine that has never touched Cole Meridian’s network.”

Martin frowned.

“That sounds suspiciously specific.”

“I was general counsel. I learned from unpleasant people.”

“Where?”

“My apartment.”

“No,” Martin said. “Too predictable.”

“My office?”

“Also predictable.”

I thought of one place no executive at Cole Meridian would know.

“My brother’s repair shop.”

Claire looked at me.

“You have a brother?”

“Older. Daniel. He repairs industrial control boards in Bridgeport. He has offline diagnostic computers because half his customers are paranoid manufacturers.”

Martin sighed.

“I’m going to regret agreeing to this.”

“You haven’t agreed.”

“I’m coming with you, which is the same thing with worse paperwork.”

A nurse hurried toward us.

“Ms. Cole?”

Claire stepped forward.

“Yes?”

“Your brother is awake.”

Everything stopped.

“For how long?”

“Just a few minutes. He’s confused. The doctor wants to keep stimulation low.”

Claire’s hand found mine.

“Come with me.”

“I’m not family.”

“He may remember you.”

The nurse hesitated, then nodded.

We entered the intensive care unit together.

Adrian looked nothing like the man from the corporate portraits.

There were tubes, monitors, bruising across his chest, and exhaustion carved into every line of his face.

Claire stood beside the bed.

“Adrian.”

His eyes opened.

“Claire?”

“I’m here.”

His gaze shifted beyond her.

To me.

Recognition came slowly.

“The elevator.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You…”

“You’re alive. That’s enough.”

He tried to move and winced.

“My chest.”

I looked guilty.

“I may have broken a rib.”

His mouth twitched.

“Worth it.”

Claire squeezed his hand.

“Adrian, listen to me. Did someone hurt you?”

His eyes sharpened.

“Vale.”

The heart monitor quickened.

The nurse stepped closer.

“Keep him calm.”

Claire leaned down.

“What did Richard do?”

Adrian swallowed painfully.

“Not… alone.”

“Who?”

His gaze found mine again.

“The drive.”

I said nothing.

His fingers moved weakly against the sheet.

“Did you take it?”

I nodded once.

Relief crossed his face.

“Good.”

“Adrian,” Claire whispered, “what is Lantern?”

He closed his eyes.

“Money.”

“What money?”

“Employee money.”

The nurse touched Claire’s arm.

“That’s enough.”

Adrian forced his eyes open one more time.

“Don’t give it to anyone with Meridian credentials.”

His voice was barely audible.

“Not until you see the names.”

The monitor alarmed softly as his pulse climbed.

We were pushed from the room.

In the corridor, Claire leaned against the wall.

“Employee money,” she said.

Martin had joined us.

“What does that mean?”

Claire looked sick.

“There’s only one pool large enough to frighten Adrian like that.”

“What pool?” I asked.

“The retirement trust.”

“How large?”

“Last year?”

She met my eyes.

“Just under six hundred million dollars.”

My phone, still in airplane mode, was dead silent in my hand.

For the first time, the silence frightened me more than the threats.

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Because if Claire was right, someone had not tried to kill Adrian Cole over a laptop.

They had tried to kill him over six hundred million dollars that belonged to people who would never know it was gone until it was too late.