Chapter 30
The office telephone on Rachel’s desk rang, its loud chime cutting through the quiet room. Rachel answered it, listened for thirty seconds, and then hung up without speaking.
“That was the clerk at the federal courthouse,” Rachel said, looking at me. “The Vances just filed an expedited motion to seal all active investigations regarding Vance Defense Solutions, citing national security.”
“How long do we have before the judge signs it?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning at nine,” Rachel said.
“Then we need the physical files from my father’s old operations,” I said. “The digital logs are only half the story.”
I walked down the dark alley behind my former penthouse at nine that evening. The rain had started again, dripping off the rusted fire escapes and pooling on the asphalt.
A man in a tan trench coat stood near the dumpster, his collar turned up against the cold. It was Thomas, a retired field officer who had served with my father thirty years ago.
He did not look at me as I approached. He kept his eyes on the street, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
“You should not be here, Claire,” Thomas said, his voice gravelly. “The Vances have people watching the front lobby.”
“I need the location of the Maryland files, Thomas,” I said. “They are going to seal the case tomorrow morning.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, brass service key with a small plastic tag attached to the ring. He held it out, his fingers steady.
“Your father told me to give you this only if they took your home,” Thomas said. “The address of the facility is printed on the back of the tag.”
“Where is he, Thomas?”
“He is doing what he has always done,” Thomas said, turning to walk toward the street. “He is staying ahead of the storm.”
I watched him disappear into the shadow of the brick buildings before I walked back to Rachel’s car parked at the curb. I sat in the passenger seat and turned on the overhead light.
The plastic tag on the key ring had the address of a self-storage facility in Jessup, Maryland, written in my father’s precise, neat handwriting.
I opened my laptop on my knees, plugging in the secure thumb drive one last time to verify the encryption keys before we made the drive. The screen glowed white in the dark interior of the car, showing the complete list of files ready for the morning.
May you like
I closed my laptop screen with a firm, decisive click.
We had to wait twenty minutes in the hallway before the guard opened the double doors. The floor of the Dirksen Senate Office Building was cold white terrazzo, and my heels made a sharp, lonely sound against the stone.
