Chapter 821
The boardroom at Tate Corp was silent as a tomb. My audit team, hired mercenaries with calculators, tore through the files. They were looking for physical ledgers, anything that hadn’t been wiped in the digital purge.
Thomas Tate sat in the corner, looking defeated. The threat of exposing his links to the Blue Phoenix had broken him. In this climate, being associated with the hackers meant being public enemy number one.
“What do you want?” Thomas asked, his voice raspy.
“The Port Authority land,” I said. “Lot 45.”
Thomas looked up sharply. “The warehouse district? That’s useless land. Everything is automated there.”
“Then you won’t mind parting with it.”
𝘚𝗮𝗏e 𝘺𝗼u𝘳 fa𝗏𝗈𝗋𝘪𝘵е 𝗇o𝘷е𝘭𝘀 оn 𝘨аln𝗼𝘷𝖾𝗅ѕ.со𝗺
It wasn’t useless. Liam had traced the Phoenix’s hardware shipments there. It was the primary smuggling hub for the new regime’s analog equipment. If I controlled it, I choked off their supply lines.
“Fine,” Thomas spat. “Take it. Just call off the auditors.”
“Deal.”
I signed the papers. As I walked out, Travis was waiting by the door. He looked furious.
“You took the port,” he hissed. “Why?”
“Real estate investment,” I said.
“That’s my dad’s retirement plan!”
“Your dad’s retirement plan involves federal prison,” I said. “I’m doing him a favor.”
We got into the elevator. It was just me, Travis, and Lucian.
“Any word from Victoria?” I asked Lucian, my voice tight. “It’s been twenty-four hours.”
“Nothing,” Lucian replied grimly, keeping his eyes on Travis. “Her tracker is offline. Last ping was near the old subway tunnels, then silence.”
A knot of worry tightened in my chest, but I couldn’t show it in front of Travis.
Travis was vibrating with anger. He reached into his pocket.
Lucian’s hand was on his gun before Travis could blink.
“Phone,” Travis said, pulling out his mobile slowly. “Just checking the time.” He tapped the screen.
In the reflection of the elevator door, I saw what he typed.
Subject: Port is gone. Accelerate timeline.
I smiled at my reflection. Gotcha.
“Lucian,” I said. “When we get back, have Travis organize the archives. The paper archives. In the basement.”
“The ones from the 90s?” Lucian asked. “That’s thousands of boxes.”
“He likes history,” I said. “And I want him nowhere near a computer terminal for the next six hours.”
Travis looked like he wanted to scream.
Back at the estate, I watched on the security feed as Travis hauled heavy boxes in the dusty basement. He muttered curses, kicking boxes when he thought no one was looking.
“He’s signaling someone,” Alistair said, standing behind me. “The text in the elevator.”
“I know,” I said. “He’s panicking. The port was their safe zone. Now they have to move.”
“What’s the accelerated timeline?”
“We’ll find out,” I said. “Because tonight, I’m going to push him until he snaps.”