“I have the original payment records. I have copies of the messages. And I have the names of the people who arranged the disappearance of James Bennett.”
Wallace stopped smiling.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere you can't reach me.”
“Thomas, listen carefully. You are not the only person who knows about those records.”
“I know.”
“Then you know what happens to people who try to betray the operation.”
Miller ended the call.
Wallace stared at his phone.
For the first time in years, he felt uncertain.
Miller had always been cautious, but he was also greedy. He had accepted money from Donovan, passed information to Harlan, and helped Wallace identify witnesses. If he was now threatening to expose them, it meant he had something valuable.
Wallace called Donovan.
“Miller has become a problem.”
“Then solve it.”
“He says he has the original payment records.”
Donovan's voice became cold.
“Find them before Bennett does.”
“And if Miller refuses to cooperate?”
“Then he joins the list of people who made poor decisions.”
Wallace ended the call.
He looked toward the room where James Mitchell was being held.
Perhaps the old man could still be useful.
Perhaps his son could be persuaded to reveal where Victoria was keeping the evidence.
Wallace walked down the corridor and opened the door.
James looked up.
“Where is my son?”
Wallace ignored the question.
“I need you to help us understand something.”
“I've already told you everything I know.”
“Your son is cooperating with the federal investigation.”
“Good.”
Wallace studied him.
“You don't seem concerned.”
James gave a tired smile.
“I'm proud of him.”
Wallace stepped closer.
“You should be careful. Pride can be expensive.”
James looked directly into his eyes.
“So can corruption.”
For a moment, Wallace said nothing.
Then he closed the folder in his hand.
“Enjoy your confidence while you still have it.”
He left the room.
James waited until the footsteps disappeared.
Then he noticed something on the floor near the door.
A small metal object had fallen from Wallace's jacket.
It was a key.
James leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed and managed to pull it toward his chair.
He did not know what it opened.
But he knew it might be his only chance.
The municipal warehouse was nearly empty when Victoria and Sarah arrived.
A security officer met them at the entrance.
“We received your request. The monument is in the rear storage section.”
“Has anyone accessed it recently?” Victoria asked.
The officer checked his records.
“Two people came yesterday. They said they were from the renovation contractor.”
“Names?”
He showed her the entry log.
The names were unfamiliar, but the identification numbers were incomplete.
Victoria looked at Sarah.
“Someone knew the monument might contain something.”
Sarah nodded.
“Or they were searching for something else.”
They entered the storage area.
The stone monument stood beneath a protective covering. It was smaller than it had appeared in the photograph, but the inscription was still visible.
Victoria pulled back the cover.
Her father's photograph showed the exact same monument.
She examined the carved lettering.
The numbers 102214 appeared again, this time etched into the base.
Sarah crouched beside it.
“There's a small metal plate underneath.”
One of the technicians examined the plate and found a hidden compartment behind it.
Inside was a sealed plastic container.
Victoria opened it.
There was a memory card, a small key, and a folded sheet of paper.
The paper contained a single sentence.
The authorization is where the first agreement was signed.
Sarah frowned.
“The first agreement?”
Victoria examined the memory card.
“Maybe the recording will explain.”
They returned to the vehicle and connected the card to a secure laptop.
A video appeared.
Her father was sitting at a desk in what looked like a government office. His face was tired, and a dark bruise was visible near his temple.
He looked directly into the camera.
“My name is James Bennett. I am making this recording because I believe my life is in danger.”
Victoria felt her hands begin to tremble.
Her father continued.
“On October 14, 2014, I attended a meeting at the old federal courthouse. Present were Richard Harlan, Charles Donovan, Edward Lang, and Thomas Miller. The purpose of the meeting was to authorize a financial restructuring agreement that would transfer public grant funds through private foundations.”
He paused.
“I refused to sign the document. I informed them that the arrangement was illegal. Harlan told me that I was making a mistake.”
The image flickered.
“I later discovered that my signature had been forged. The agreement was approved without my consent. I reported the forgery, but the complaint disappeared.”