Chapter 9 - Saint Augustine StationSaint Augustine Station had been abandoned for twenty-three years.
Claire arrived at 11:42 a.m.
Alone.
At least visibly.
The old commuter terminal stood beneath an elevated rail line on Chicago’s industrial southwest side.
Broken windows.
Graffiti.
Pigeons.
Two entrances.
Four usable exits.
One collapsed stairwell.
Claire had studied the building until sunrise.
Then she had slept for fifty-three minutes.
Adrian hated the plan.
Daniel hated it more.
Vanessa had described it as “psychotic.”
Helena had called it reasonable.
That worried Claire most.
The ledger rested inside her bag.
Fake microfilm hidden in the spine.
The real film had been copied and secured in three locations.
One with Detective Martinez.
One with an attorney outside Illinois.
One somewhere only Daniel knew.
Claire had insisted on the third.
Trust was not concentration.
At noon exactly, Gideon Moretti appeared.
He looked different.
Thinner.
Gray beard.
Cheap coat.
No expensive watch.
No visible security.
Claire assumed that meant at least three people were watching.
“Claire.”
“Gideon.”
“You look well.”
“You look hunted.”
He smiled.
“Always direct.”
“Life is short.”
“Your father would agree.”
Claire’s hand tightened around the bag.
“Careful.”
Gideon nodded.
“My apologies.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“No.”
He appreciated honesty too much for a man who lied professionally.
“Where is the ledger?”
“Where is the name?”
“You expect me to tell you before I see it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Claire placed the bag on an old ticket counter.
Gideon approached.
She stopped him with one look.
“Name first.”
“Ledger first.”
“Then we enjoy the architecture until one of us gets bored.”
He laughed.
“You were always difficult.”
“You knew me seven years ago?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
“Thomas talked about you.”
“Thomas barely talked.”
“To you.”
That hurt more than expected.
Gideon continued.
“He feared you.”
“No.”
“He did.”
“Why?”
“Because you were incorruptible.”
Claire almost laughed.
“That’s dramatic.”
“Not morally incorruptible. Everyone has compromises. You were operationally incorruptible. Money didn’t distract you. status didn’t impress you. intimidation made you curious.”
“Flattery?”
“Observation.”
“Still waiting for a name.”
Gideon looked at the bag.
“Martin Vale authorized the action against your team.”
“I know.”
That was partly bluff.
Gideon noticed.
“You suspected.”
“I need my father.”
His expression changed.
“Michael Bennett was different.”
“How?”
“He wasn’t selected by Martin.”
Claire felt cold.
“Who?”
Gideon looked past her.
For one second.
Tiny.
Involuntary.
Claire followed the direction without turning her head.
Upper platform.
Someone there.
Gideon said, “Give me the ledger.”
“Who marked my father?”
“Helena.”
Claire’s face remained still.
Inside, everything shifted.
“My father’s name was marked before Helena disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“She said she didn’t know.”
“Helena says many things.”
“Why would she mark him?”
“He discovered Vittorio’s payments.”
“To Northline.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“No.”
“What else?”
Gideon lowered his voice.
“He discovered Adrian.”
Claire frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Gideon smiled sadly.
“Ask Helena who Adrian’s father is.”
Claire stared.
Too theatrical.
Too convenient.
A revelation designed to destabilize.
She refused it.
“No.”
Gideon blinked.
“No?”
“You want me emotional.”
“Claire—”
“You want me thinking about Adrian instead of the man on the upper platform.”
Gideon’s eyes changed.
Claire moved.
A shot struck the ticket counter.
Wood exploded.
Claire dropped behind concrete.
Gideon ran.
Second shot.
Not at Claire.
At Gideon.
He fell.
Claire drew her weapon.
“Shooter north platform!”
Police teams hidden outside moved.
The trap had reversed.
Claire crawled toward Gideon.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
“Can you move?”
He laughed weakly.
“Still protecting people you hate.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“That’s worse.”
Another shot.
Claire pulled him behind a pillar.
Footsteps thundered above.
Marcus and Martinez’s team entered from opposite sides.
Claire pressed cloth against Gideon’s wound.
“Who is the shooter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bad time to become unhelpful.”
“Northline doesn’t want me talking.”
“Then talk faster.”
He grimaced.
“Your father discovered Northline had altered succession plans.”
“What succession plans?”
“Families. companies. trusts.”
Claire understood.
“Selecting heirs.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian?”
Gideon closed his eyes.
“Vittorio wasn’t his biological father.”
Claire said nothing.
“Who was?”
“Martin Vale.”
The world seemed to pause.
Then Claire rejected the reaction.
Evidence first.
“Proof?”
“Michael found it.”
“Where?”
“Microfilm.”
Claire’s pulse changed.
“What else is on it?”
“Everything.”
A crash sounded above.
Someone shouted.
Then a gunshot.
Claire kept pressure on Gideon’s shoulder.
“Did Helena mark my father?”
Gideon looked at her.
“No.”
“You just said she did.”
“I needed you angry at her.”
“Why?”
“Because she’ll protect Adrian before she protects the truth.”
“Who marked him?”
Gideon’s face twisted.
“I did.”
Claire’s hand stopped.
For one dangerous second.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought he was going to expose us.”
“Did you order his death?”
“No.”
“Did Martin?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Gideon looked terrified.
That frightened Claire more than anything.
“Vittorio.”
Adrian’s father.
Claire stared.
“Why?”
“Michael told him the truth about Adrian.”
“That Martin was his biological father?”
“Yes.”
“Why kill him for that?”
“Because that wasn’t the dangerous part.”
Claire leaned closer.
“What was?”
Gideon whispered:
“Adrian was not the only child.”
Footsteps approached.
Claire turned.
Helena stood twenty feet away.
Gun lowered.
Face pale.
She had not been part of Claire’s official plan.
Of course she had come anyway.
Gideon laughed weakly.
“Ask her.”
Claire looked at Helena.
“How many children?”
Helena said nothing.
Gideon smiled.
“Tell her.”
“Gideon.”
“Tell her what Northline was built to protect.”
Helena’s eyes filled with rage.
“Shut up.”
Claire stood.
“Helena.”
She looked at Claire.
Then at Gideon.
Finally:
“Two.”
Adrian had a sibling.
“Who?”
Before Helena could answer, another shot cracked.
Gideon jerked.
Blood appeared at his throat.
Claire dropped.
Helena fired toward the upper platform.
Police shouted.
The shooter ran.
Claire pressed her hand against Gideon’s neck.
Too much blood.
Too fast.
He tried to speak.
No sound.
“Stay with me.”
His eyes found Claire.
His lips moved.
One word.
She leaned closer.
“Again.”
Gideon whispered:
“Rachel.”
Then he died.
Claire sat back.
Rachel Vale.
Emily Shaw.
The woman who had supposedly survived Claire’s ambush.
The woman who brought the recording.
Claire looked at Helena.
“Rachel is Adrian’s sister?”
Helena closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The station filled with police.
Marcus reached Claire.
“Shooter escaped.”
Claire barely heard him.
Everything rearranged itself.
Rachel’s arrival.
Her knowledge.
Her connection to Martin’s surname.
Her survival.
The recording.
Thomas.
Helena.
Claire stood.
“Where is Rachel?”
Helena’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
Claire called Adrian.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Daniel.
He answered.
“Claire?”
“Where is Adrian?”
“He left twenty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Rachel called him.”
Claire’s blood went cold.
“What did she say?”
Daniel hesitated.
“She said she could prove Helena ordered the ambush.”
Claire looked at Helena.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
“The old Moretti warehouse.”
The one from Claire’s report eight years earlier.
The building Vittorio had closed.
May you like
The place where Northline had begun to unravel.
Claire ran.
