Chapter 2 - THIRTEEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT
Dad held out his hand.
“Give me the drive.”
I didn't.
That surprised him.
“Claire.”
“I need you to answer something first.”
The guests were whispering again.
Dad looked around the ballroom.
“This isn't the place.”
“Actually, it might be the only place.”
His expression hardened.
“What are you asking?”
I looked directly into his eyes.
“Do you know what Project Northstar is?”
For the first time that night, my father went completely still.
My stomach dropped.
I had hoped for confusion.
Instead, I saw recognition.
Mom descended the staircase.
“Alexander?”
Dad didn't answer her.
I felt colder than I had when Damian shoved me against the wall.
“You know.”
Dad looked at Damian.
Then at Vanessa.
Then back at me.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Six months ago.”
“From whom?”
“Thomas Reed.”
A different kind of silence settled over my parents.
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad whispered one word.
“Impossible.”
Thomas Reed had been chief financial officer of Vale Holdings for eleven years.
He had also been my mentor.
Three days before he died in what police described as a highway accident, Thomas had sent me an encrypted email.
There had been only one sentence.
If anything happens to me, look for Northstar.
I did.
What I discovered made no sense.
Shell corporations.
False invoices.
Charitable donations routed through offshore accounts.
Properties purchased through anonymous holding companies.
And millions of dollars disappearing from businesses controlled jointly by the Vale and Cross families.
At first, I suspected Damian's father.
Then I discovered my father's electronic signature on several approvals.
Dad looked at me.
“Thomas contacted you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
Damian laughed nervously.
“You see?”
He pointed at Dad.
“She has it.”
His attorney grabbed his arm.
“Stop talking.”
Damian pulled away.
“No.”
He looked at Vanessa.
“It's over.”
Vanessa whispered,
“Shut up.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Damian!”
He turned toward me.
“That drive doesn't prove what you think.”
“Then explain it.”
“I don't have to explain anything.”
“Then the authorities can.”
That word changed him.
Authorities.
His face tightened.
“You called the police?”
“I called my father.”
Dad looked toward the security chief.
The man gave a tiny nod.
That was enough.
Police had already been contacted.
Damian saw it.
“You stupid—”
He lunged.
Not toward me.
Toward the flash drive.
Dad caught him.
My sixty-three-year-old father moved with surprising speed.
He grabbed Damian's wrist and twisted his arm behind him.
Security rushed forward.
Damian screamed.
“Get off me!”
Dad released him into their hands.
“Touch my daughter again and these gentlemen will become the least of your problems.”
Damian struggled.
Vanessa suddenly shouted.
“Stop!”
Everyone turned.
Her clutch fell from her hand.
Something slid across the marble.
A phone.
But not an ordinary phone.
It was small.
Black.
Cheap.
Disposable.
I recognized it immediately.
Burner phone.
Vanessa rushed toward it.
A security guard got there first.
“Don't touch that!”
She stopped.
Her breathing became shallow.
I looked at Damian.
His face told me everything.
“That phone matters.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
Dad looked at security.
“Bag it.”
“You can't.”
“Why?”
“Because it's mine.”
“That's exactly why.”
Her composure cracked.
“Alexander, you don't understand.”
Dad's eyes narrowed.
“Apparently that phrase is popular tonight.”
The ballroom clock moved another minute.
11:51.
Nine minutes.
I finally handed Dad the flash drive.
He stared at it.
“What exactly is on here?”
“Copies of financial records.”
“What else?”
“Emails.”
His face tightened.
“Between whom?”
“Thomas and someone using the initials A.V.”
Mom looked at Dad.
Alexander Vale.
A.V.
Dad slowly shook his head.
“They weren't from me.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to verify it.”
Damian laughed again.
“Ask him about Zurich.”
Dad turned.
Damian smiled despite the security officer holding his arm.
“Go ahead.”
“Ask Daddy where he was on March fourteenth.”
I remembered the date.
March 14.
The date of the largest Northstar transfer.
Twenty-eight million dollars.
I looked at Dad.
“Where were you?”
Mom answered before he could.
“Zurich.”
My chest tightened.
Dad looked at her.
“You weren't supposed to—”
“Not supposed to what?”
Mom's voice cracked.
“Tell our daughter the truth?”
Damian smiled.
There was blood on his teeth now from where he had bitten his lip during the struggle.
“Happy families are so fragile.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead, I checked the clock.
11:53.
Seven minutes.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Security officers looked upward.
Dad turned toward the control room.
“What was that?”
No answer.
The lights flickered again.
The steel barrier near the east entrance shuddered.
My stomach tightened.
Someone was trying to override the lockdown.
The security chief touched his earpiece.
“Control, report.”
Static.
“Control?”
Nothing.
Then the ballroom screens turned black.
Every screen.
Every television.
Every digital display.
A single line of white text appeared.
UPLOAD INITIATED.
My heart stopped.
Damian began laughing.
I looked at him.
“What did you do?”
He smiled.
“You thought midnight was your deadline.”
The upload counter appeared.
8%.
12%.
17%.
Damian leaned toward me.
“No, Claire.”
May you like
His smile widened.
“Midnight is when yours begins.”
