Chapter 8: A Crucial Detail
They couldn't use the garage. If a scout had found the lobby, there were likely spotters watching the exits. Instead, Elias led Clara and Marcus up a narrow, concrete stairwell to the roof.
The wind howled across the helipad, biting through Clara’s cashmere sweater. A sleek, unmarked helicopter was already spinning up, its rotors slicing through the damp night air. Mrs. Gable was already strapped into the back, holding a small overnight bag.
As they boarded and the helicopter banked sharply away from the glowing skyline, Clara looked down at the shrinking city. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. She had brought a war to Elias's doorstep.
"I'm sorry," she shouted over the roar of the rotors, looking at Elias, who sat across from her.
He leaned forward, adjusting his headset. "Don't apologize for surviving, Clara. But I need you to think. When you were in that basement, did you see anything else? Names, ledgers, a logo? Something we can use to hunt him."
Clara closed her eyes, forcing herself to walk back into the nightmare. She remembered the damp concrete, the smell of mildew, and the heavy wooden crates stacked near the stairs.
Her eyes snapped open. "There was a logo on the crates they used to block the cellar door. A blue compass with a broken needle. And the letters V.M. Maritime."
May you like
Marcus, listening on the intercom, swore softly. "Vanguard Maritime. It’s a shell shipping company. We’ve been trying to link them to human trafficking rings for two years."
A cold, dangerous smile touched the corners of Elias’s mouth. "Sullivan didn't just leave a footprint, Clara. He left a map."
