Chapter 39
Rachel nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement, and slipped the draft into her recycling bin. “I will inform them that we decline the compromise.”
“And Patricia?” I asked.
“Her legal team is preparing a separate filing,” Rachel said, standing to join me near the window. “But with the Level Eight access logs confirmed, the defense legacy is effectively finished.”
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small, padded envelope, laying it on the table between us. “This arrived by courier from the federal marshal’s office an hour ago.”
I opened the clasp and tipped the contents onto the wood. The heavy brass door key to my penthouse slid out, accompanied by the official court order lifting the treasury seizure.
The metal felt cold in my palm, a physical weight that belonged to the quiet space I had spent five years trying to protect.
“Your home is clear, Claire,” Rachel said softly.
I slipped the key into my coat pocket next to my father’s satellite phone. “I have one stop to make before I go back.”
The rehabilitation wing of the veterans hospital smelled of floor wax and strong chamomile tea. Maya Ellis was sitting by the wide window of the third-floor sunroom, her left hand resting on the arm of her wheelchair while a physical therapist adjusted the straps on her leg brace.
She looked up as I entered, her soft voice carrying a light note of surprise. “Claire. I did not expect you back until the hearings were fully closed.”
“The paperwork is finished,” I said, taking a vinyl chair opposite her. “Rachel signed off on the final settlements this morning.”
Maya held her left wrist, her fingers brushing the pale, jagged scar that ran from her thumb to her forearm. “And Harrison?”
“The plea offer was rejected,” I said. “The federal marshals are maintaining the current holding order.”
Maya looked out at the courtyard below, where two patients in grey sweats were walking slowly along the paved path. “He told us the plates were certified for three-hundred-caliber rounds. He stood on the gravel in Kuwait and held one up to the sun like it was a shield.”
I pulled a blue folder from my leather bag and laid it on her small table. “This is the engineering report from the independent lab in Ohio. They finished the analysis yesterday.”
May you like
Maya did not open the folder, but her gaze remained fixed on the cover. “What did they find?”
“The ceramic plates were filled with a cheap silica alloy,” I said, keeping my voice level and dry. “It reduces the weight by twelve percent, which is how they met the transport specifications, but it shatters on impact instead of dispersing the force.”
