He pulled up the old records.
“There was an executive meeting.”
“Who attended?”
He searched.
Then looked at me.
“Your father.”
“Who else?”
“Martin Cross.”
“Richard Hale?”
“Yes.”
“Graham Ellis?”
“Yes.”
“And Jonathan Price?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back.
“That's the meeting.”
“What meeting?”
“The last meeting my father had before he died.”
Daniel looked at me.
“We need the minutes.”
“They're missing.”
I stared at him.
“Then we find out why.”
The Room That Wasn't on the Map
The Beaumont Crown had changed dramatically over fifteen years.
New elevators.
New restaurants.
New security systems.
New guest rooms.
But some things remained.
The old executive archive was located beneath the hotel.
Most employees didn't even know it existed.
The entrance was hidden behind a service corridor.
Richard Hale tried to stop us.
“You don't need to go down there.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“The records are incomplete.”
“That's exactly why I need to see them.”
He hesitated.
“Maya.”
“Richard.”
His expression changed.
“You should understand something.”
“What?”
“There are things your father did that you may not want to uncover.”
I stared at him.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“What things?”
He said nothing.
“Tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Can't?”
“I promised him.”
My heart stopped.
“Promised him what?”
Richard looked away.
“That's enough.”
I stepped closer.
“No.”
His face hardened.
“You think because you own this company, you can walk into every room and demand answers.”
“I don't think.”
I pointed toward the door.
“I know.”
He looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something behind his fear.
Not guilt.
Grief.
“Richard,” I said quietly.
“What?”
“What are you afraid of?”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he stepped aside.
“Go.”
The archive room smelled of dust and old paper.
Daniel turned on the lights.
Rows of boxes filled the room.
We searched by date.
December 14.
Nothing.
December 13.
Nothing.
December 15.
Nothing.
Then Daniel noticed a gap.
“Look.”
“What?”
“There should be a box here.”
“How do you know?”
“The numbering.”
He pointed.
“Box 14B.”
It was missing.
I looked around.
“Find it.”
We searched for twenty minutes.
Nothing.
Then Daniel noticed an old wall panel.
He pressed it.
Nothing happened.
He pressed harder.
A section of the wall moved.
Behind it was a narrow door.
I stared.
“What is that?”
Richard's voice came from behind us.
“Don't.”
I turned.
He was standing in the doorway.
His face was pale.
“Why?”
“Because your father told me never to open it.”
“Why?”
“Because some secrets are buried for a reason.”
I stepped toward him.
“My father is dead.”
Richard looked at me.
“I know.”
“So whatever you promised him doesn't matter anymore.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
He looked at Daniel.
Then at me.
Finally, he whispered:
“Your father didn't die because of the company.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He died because he was going to expose someone.”
“Who?”
Richard shook his head.
“I can't.”
I opened the hidden door.
Inside was a small room.
There was a table.
Two chairs.
A tape recorder.
And a safe.
Daniel stared.
“This was a private meeting room.”
I walked inside.
On the table was a cassette tape.
A handwritten label read:
DECEMBER 14 — FINAL MEETING
My hands trembled.
I picked it up.
Richard whispered,
“Don't.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“Because once you hear it, there's no going back.”
I looked at the tape.
Then at Richard.
“I've already gone too far.”
We found an old cassette player in the room.
Daniel inserted the tape.
Static filled the room.
Then my father's voice.
Older.
Tired.
Angry.
“You're stealing from me.”
Another man's voice answered.
“I wouldn't use that word.”
“You're moving company money through shell contractors.”
“We're restructuring.”
“You're laundering.”
Silence.
Then another voice.
Martin.
“Robert, think carefully.”
My father laughed bitterly.
“I have been thinking carefully for a year.”
The recording continued.
“You don't understand what you're dealing with.”
My father's voice became quieter.
“I understand perfectly.”
A fourth voice entered.
Jonathan Price.
“Robert, listen to me.”
“No.”
“You're putting Maya at risk.”
“I won't let you threaten my daughter.”
“We're not threatening her.”
“You already have.”
Silence.
Then my father said something that made my entire body go cold.
“I have copies.”
A chair scraped.
Someone swore.
“What copies?”
“Everything.”
The tape crackled.
Then my father spoke again.
“If anything happens to me, Maya gets them.”
There was silence.
Then Richard's voice.
“You shouldn't have done that.”
My father's answer was calm.
“I know.”
The tape ended.
I stood frozen.
Daniel stared at me.
Richard was crying.
“You were there,” I whispered.
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“He knew they were watching you.”
I stepped closer.
“Who?”
Richard looked at the floor.
“Graham.”
“Graham Ellis?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“He controlled the money.”
“And Martin?”
“Martin controlled the people.”
I understood.
“And you?”
Richard looked at me.
“I was supposed to control the hotels.”
“Supposed to?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked broken.
“Because I was afraid.”
I stared at him.
“Afraid of what?”
He whispered:
“Of becoming the next person who disappeared.”
Silence filled the room.