Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN'S SWITCH
“Disconnect the network.”
Dad's order echoed through the ballroom.
Technicians ran toward the control corridor.
The security chief shouted into his radio.
“Cut external connections.”
The screens continued counting.
24%.
29%.
33%.
Vanessa stared at Damian.
“What did you activate?”
He ignored her.
That frightened me more than anything else.
“Damian.”
She grabbed his sleeve.
“What did you do?”
He smiled.
“Insurance.”
Her face changed.
“You promised you deleted it.”
“I lied.”
Dad stepped toward him.
“What is being uploaded?”
Damian shrugged.
“Everything.”
“Define everything.”
“Ask Claire.”
I looked at the screens.
42%.
My pulse accelerated.
The Northstar files were dangerous.
But Damian wouldn't upload evidence against himself unless the package contained something worse for someone else.
Dad.
Or me.
“Where is the source?”
The security chief answered.
“We're tracing it.”
Damian chuckled.
“You won't find it here.”
Vanessa whispered,
“You used the backup server.”
Damian's smile vanished.
She had revealed too much.
I turned to her.
“What backup server?”
She closed her mouth.
I stepped closer.
“Vanessa.”
Nothing.
“Your brother just trapped you with everyone else.”
She looked at Damian.
For the first time, I saw hatred between them.
Not sibling irritation.
Hatred.
Dad saw it too.
“Ms. Cross.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“If there's something on those servers that can prevent people from being hurt, now would be an excellent time to speak.”
Damian laughed.
“She won't.”
Vanessa stared at him.
Then she said,
“The server is in Connecticut.”
Damian's face twisted.
“You idiot.”
“Shut up.”
“You're dead.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I've been dead for three years.”
The room seemed to shrink around us.
I asked,
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward the hundreds of guests.
“Not here.”
Dad answered immediately.
“Everyone stays.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“You don't understand who is in this room.”
“Then help me understand.”
Her eyes moved across the crowd.
Politicians.
Bankers.
Executives.
Donors.
Judges.
Media owners.
People whose photographs appeared on magazine covers.
Then she whispered,
“Northstar isn't a company.”
My skin prickled.
“What is it?”
“A ledger.”
Dad looked at her.
“A ledger of what?”
“People.”
The upload reached 61%.
Vanessa continued.
“Payments.”
“Favors.”
“Blackmail.”
“Contracts.”
“Private settlements.”
“Offshore transfers.”
“Everything powerful people never wanted connected.”
Several guests began moving toward the doors again.
Security blocked them.
A senator shouted,
“You have no legal authority to detain us!”
Dad turned.
“The police are outside.”
That produced another wave of panic.
Vanessa continued.
“Damian has a copy.”
“Why?”
“Because our father gave it to him.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Protection.”
She laughed bitterly.
“The Cross family doesn't buy loyalty.”
“We buy fear.”
The screens showed 74%.
I looked at Damian.
“What's in the upload?”
He smiled.
“A carefully edited version.”
There it was.
Edited.
“What did you remove?”
“My family.”
“And what did you leave?”
“Yours.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
Damian looked at him.
“Every transaction with your name.”
Dad said,
“My name was forged.”
“Maybe.”
“Then you know it.”
“Truth isn't what matters when the headline arrives first.”
That sentence terrified me because it was true.
The upload reached 81%.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
DON'T LET IT REACH 100%.
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
THOMAS REED DIDN'T DIE IN THAT CAR.
My breath caught.
I typed.
WHO IS THIS?
The answer appeared instantly.
Someone who watched him die.
I showed Dad.
His face changed.
Then another message arrived.
THE KILLER IS INSIDE THE BALLROOM.
I looked around.
Hundreds of faces.
Some frightened.
Some angry.
Some confused.
One of them had murdered Thomas.
The upload reached 88%.
Dad whispered,
“Can you stop it?”
The security chief shook his head.
“We're trying.”
93%.
Vanessa began backing away from Damian.
He noticed.
“Where are you going?”
She said nothing.
95%.
I looked at the crowd again.
Someone was watching me.
I could feel it.
97%.
Then I saw him.
Near the orchestra.
Gray tuxedo.
Silver hair.
Perfect posture.
Victor Cross.
Damian and Vanessa's father.
He had been silent the entire time.
He lifted his champagne glass toward me.
98%.
Then he smiled.
99%.
The screens went black.
For two seconds, nobody breathed.
Then one word appeared.
FAILED.
Damian's face collapsed.
“What?”
I stared at my phone.
A final message appeared.
I STOPPED IT.
BUT NOW HE KNOWS I'M ALIVE.
I typed quickly.
WHO ARE YOU?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, the answer arrived.
May you like
CLAIRE.
IT'S THOMAS.
