Chapter 11 - THE MAN MY FATHER HUNTED FOR TWENTY-TWO YEARS
Cross fired first.
My father dove behind the doorway.
The bullet shattered wood.
I dropped.
Malcolm threw himself sideways with the chair.
Cross grabbed me.
He pressed the gun against my ribs.
“Tell him to drop it.”
I stared at Dad.
He stepped into the doorway.
Cross tightened his grip.
“Drop the gun.”
Dad did.
The weapon hit the floor.
Cross smiled.
“Twenty-two years.”
Dad stared at him.
“I knew you were involved.”
“But you couldn't prove it.”
“I should have killed you.”
“Yes.”
Cross dragged me toward the desk.
My father followed with his eyes.
“Let her go.”
Cross laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
“What?”
“She was never the target.”
I froze.
Cross looked at me.
“Your grandfather was.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas wanted out.”
“Out of what?”
“The organization he created.”
My father shook his head.
“He didn't create it.”
Cross smiled.
“He funded it.”
Malcolm spoke from the floor.
“Daniel.”
Cross ignored him.
“He built the financial system.”
“He gave politicians money.”
“He bought judges.”
“He financed intelligence operations nobody could put on official budgets.”
“He created a shadow empire.”
“And then he developed a conscience.”
My father stared.
“That's why you killed him.”
Cross shook his head.
“I didn't.”
Dad's expression changed.
Cross smiled.
“You still haven't figured it out.”
Then Malcolm laughed.
Weakly.
Painfully.
Everyone looked at him.
“You arrogant bastard.”
Cross frowned.
Malcolm continued.
“You really think Thomas is dead?”
Silence.
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Cross stared at Malcolm.
“Shut up.”
Malcolm smiled through blood.
“Tell her.”
Cross raised the gun.
Malcolm laughed harder.
“Tell Claire what you've actually been searching for.”
I stared at Cross.
“What is he talking about?”
Cross said nothing.
Malcolm looked at me.
“The archive isn't Daniel's real objective.”
“What is?”
“Your grandfather.”
My legs almost gave out.
“No.”
Malcolm nodded.
“Thomas Bennett didn't die that night.”
My father stared at him.
“That's impossible.”
“I saw him.”
“When?”
Malcolm looked at Richard.
“Three years ago.”
My father went completely still.
Cross fired.
The bullet struck Malcolm in the chest.
I screamed.
My father lunged.
Marcus and his team burst through the doorway.
Gunfire erupted.
Cross disappeared through a hidden passage.
I crawled toward Malcolm.
Blood spread across his shirt.
“Stay with me.”
He struggled to breathe.
“Claire.”
“Don't talk.”
“Your grandfather…”
“Where?”
His eyes fluttered.
“Blackwood.”
“What is Blackwood?”
He grabbed my wrist.
“Not what.”
His voice weakened.
May you like
“Who.”
Then his hand went limp.
