What He Could Not Buy

Special Agent Mara Keene arrived before sunrise with two federal prosecutors and no patience for Nathan’s reputation.

She was in her late forties, silver beginning at her temples, navy suit under a winter coat. She entered Nathan’s office, saw Hannah on the couch and Rachel beside the windows, then looked at Nathan.

“You brought civilians into this?”

Hannah stood. “I’m not his civilian.”

Keene glanced at her. “Who are you?”

“Hannah Cole.”

Keene stopped.

“Thomas Cole’s daughter?”

Nathan noticed the recognition.

Hannah did too.

“You knew my father?”

“Not personally.” Keene set a folder on the desk. “His name appears in an old state task-force memo about missing women and corrupt freight inspections. The memo disappeared from the active file before I joined the bureau.”

Hannah swallowed. “Why?”

“Someone buried it.”

“Elliot Price?” Nathan asked.

“Maybe. Maybe someone higher.”

Keene looked at the boxes of archived records.

“You understand what happens if I take these.”

Nathan nodded.

“They include your books too,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Your shell companies. Payments. Political contacts.”

“Yes.”

Rachel crossed her arms. “My brother knows what evidence is.”

Keene looked at Nathan. “Does he know what prison is?”

Hannah turned toward him.

Nathan did not react.

“I know what risk is,” he said.

“That was not my question.”

Before Nathan answered, the elevator opened.

Mateo stepped out first, hand near his coat.

Behind him came Vanessa Mercer.

Nathan’s second wife wore a cream wool coat, black gloves, and the same composed expression she had used through their divorce as if heartbreak were an inconvenient meeting.

Rachel said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Vanessa smiled. “Lovely to see you too.”

Nathan’s voice went cold. “Why are you here?”

Vanessa looked at Keene.

“Because Victor Sloane thinks I still hate my ex-husband more than I hate being used.”

The room went silent.

Keene moved first. “Sit down.”

Vanessa removed her gloves. “You must be Agent Keene.”

“I said sit.”

Vanessa sat.

Hannah remained standing beside the couch.

Vanessa noticed her. “And you are?”

“Hannah.”

Something flickered in Vanessa’s eyes.

“The teacher.”

“Education director.”

“Of course.”

Nathan’s expression hardened. “How do you know who she is?”

Vanessa looked at him. “Because Sloane showed me photographs.”

Hannah’s face changed.

Keene leaned forward. “Start talking.”

Vanessa folded her hands. “Three months ago, Sloane approached me through a mutual friend. He wanted information about Nathan’s habits, homes, family, and weak points.”

Rachel laughed without humor. “And you helped him?”

“I gave him things he could have found online.”

“That is not an answer.”

Vanessa’s eyes sharpened. “I wanted to know what he was planning.”

Nathan said, “Why?”

She looked at him for a long moment.

“Because I divorced you. I did not sentence you to death.”

Hannah glanced at Nathan.

Vanessa continued. “Sloane is not trying to take your territory in the old way. He wants you indicted, your legitimate assets frozen, your crews leaderless, and your sister frightened enough to sell.”

Keene said, “How?”

“He has been collecting records through Julian Price. Old payments. New ones. Anything that connects Mercer Global to criminal activity.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened.

Vanessa almost smiled. “Yes, Nathan. Your CFO has been documenting you for years.”

“Why would Sloane need Bridge House?” Hannah asked.

Vanessa turned toward her.

“Because Bridge House sits on one of three parcels required for a freight redevelopment corridor. Sloane intends to control trucking from the river to two rail yards. That would make him richer than Nathan without firing a shot.”

“Then why threaten children?”

“To make Nathan react badly.”

Keene nodded slowly. “A public act of violence.”

“Exactly.” Vanessa looked at Nathan. “He wants the feared mafia boss everyone believes you are. He needs you angry.”

Nathan thought of the black SUV. Rachel’s floor plans. Slashed books.

Bait.

Hannah asked, “What does my father have to do with it?”

Vanessa’s confidence faltered for the first time.

“I did not know about your father until yesterday.”

“Do you know who killed him?”

“No.”

“We do,” Nathan said.

Vanessa looked at him.

“Anton ordered it.”

Her face went still. “Then Sloane has another problem.”

“What?” Keene asked.

“Anton kept insurance.”

Nathan stared at her.

Vanessa reached into her handbag slowly.

Mateo’s hand moved toward his weapon.

She stopped. “It is a key.”

Keene nodded.

Vanessa removed a small brass key attached to a faded plastic tag.

C-417.

Nathan recognized the style.

“Union Trust storage vault.”

Vanessa nodded. “Sloane gave it to me two weeks ago. He wanted me to retrieve a box registered under an old alias Anton used.”

“Why you?”

“Because the vault requires a biometric confirmation from someone on an access list. I was added years ago when I handled charitable accounts for one of your foundations.”

Rachel stared at her. “You never handled charitable accounts.”

Vanessa’s mouth curved.

“Not yours.”

Keene took the key.

“What is in the box?”

“Sloane says old photographs and account ledgers.”

Nathan understood before she finished.

“North Star.”

Vanessa nodded.

Hannah whispered, “My father’s evidence.”

Keene stood. “No one moves until I have a warrant.”

Vanessa looked at Nathan.