“This archive is designed to destroy itself if unauthorized access is detected. In ten minutes, the entire room will fill with chemical fire suppressant and the storage system will ignite.”

Porter looked around at the cabinets.

“Then we take the evidence and get out.”

Daniel shook his head.

“You don't understand. The archive has another function.”

He pointed toward the far wall.

A heavy steel door stood behind the cabinets.

“Behind that door is the original server. It contains the complete Nightfall database, including the identities of every person involved.”

Olivia looked at the countdown.

“Can we copy it?”

Thomas nodded.

“But the server requires two separate authorization keys. One was kept by Caldwell. The other was entrusted to the person who designed the system.”

“Who designed it?”

Her father hesitated.

Then he looked directly at her.

“I did.”

The countdown continued.

08:41

Thomas reached into his pocket and removed a small silver key.

“I kept this for twenty years.”

He inserted it into the first slot beside the steel door.

The screen flashed.

FIRST AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED.

A second slot appeared.

Olivia looked at her father.

“Where's the other key?”

Thomas turned toward Daniel Whitmore.

Daniel slowly reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a thin chain. Hanging from it was a small black key.

“I've carried it since the night they took me,” he said.

He inserted it.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the screen changed.

SECOND AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED.

The steel door began to open.

Inside, a wall of monitors illuminated the room.

Thousands of files appeared across the screens. Names, bank accounts, recordings, photographs, and confidential reports filled the database.

Olivia stepped closer.

At the top of the main screen was a file marked:

NIGHTFALL — ORIGINAL DIRECTIVE.

She opened it.

The first page contained a list of objectives.

The second page contained names.

The third page contained a photograph of a young woman.

Olivia recognized her immediately.

It was her mother.

Beside the photograph were the words:

WITNESS CONTROL — ELIZABETH BENNETT. STATUS: ACTIVE.

Olivia felt her heart stop.

Her mother was not simply a person threatened by the conspiracy.

She had been part of it.

And beneath her photograph was another note:

DO NOT ALLOW HER TO REVEAL THE LOCATION OF THE FINAL ACCOUNT.

Thomas Bennett stared at the screen.

“No,” he whispered.

Olivia turned toward him.

“What is it?”

Her father looked as though the past twenty years had suddenly returned to destroy him.

“Your mother knows where the money went.”

A new message appeared on the monitor.

INCOMING LIVE TRANSMISSION.

The screen flickered.

A familiar face appeared.

Elizabeth Bennett.

Olivia's mother looked older, but her eyes were steady.

“Olivia,” she said.

Olivia stepped closer.

“Mom?”

Elizabeth glanced toward someone standing outside the camera's view.

Then she spoke urgently.

“If you're watching this, your father has finally escaped. Listen carefully. You cannot trust the people who are helping you.”

A man's hand entered the frame and placed a gun against her shoulder.

Elizabeth did not scream.

She looked directly into the camera.

“The final account is not in Switzerland. It's not in the Cayman Islands. It's in your name, Olivia.”

The screen went black.

And the countdown continued.

Olivia stared at the black screen long after the transmission had ended.

Her mother's final words repeated in her mind.

The final account is in your name, Olivia.

“What does that mean?” she whispered.

Thomas Bennett stood motionless beside the server. His face had lost all color.

“I don't know,” he said.

Olivia turned toward him.

“You're telling me that my mother knows where the money is, that the original account is registered under my name, and that you don't know anything about it?”

Thomas lowered his eyes.

“I knew there was an account connected to you. I didn't know it had become the final destination for the money.”

“How could there be an account in my name without my knowledge?”

“Because you were a child when it was created.”

Walker approached the monitor.

“Can we access the account records?”

Thomas nodded toward the screen.

“The database should contain the original authorization documents. But we have less than six minutes before the archive destroys itself.”

Rebecca looked at the countdown.

“Then we stop talking and start copying.”

She pulled a portable drive from her equipment bag and connected it to the main terminal. The screen filled with lines of information as the system began transferring the files.

Olivia watched the progress indicator.

“Where is my mother now?”

Nobody answered.

“Dad, where is she?”

Thomas finally looked at her.

“The last time I saw Elizabeth, she was trying to find a way to expose Caldwell. She believed the money had been transferred through an account created shortly after your birth.”