Chapter 12 - THE TRADE
At 11:52 p.m., Mara walked through the Callahan gates alone.
At least, that was what Grant was supposed to believe.
Hayes stayed half a mile away.
No police radio.
No department backup.
Only one reporter Hayes trusted and one federal agent reviewing copies of the memory card.
Copies.
That was Grant’s mistake.
He still thought there was only one.
Mara carried the original in her pocket.
Vivian waited inside the mansion.
No makeup.
No pearls.
For the first time, she looked old.
“Where’s Eli?”
Vivian said, “You have ruined this family.”
Mara laughed.
“You locked your own daughter underground.”
“You don’t understand what was at stake.”
“Money.”
“Forty thousand jobs.”
“Stop hiding behind employees you’ve never met.”
Vivian slapped her.
Hard.
Mara’s head snapped sideways.
Then she slowly looked back.
“That all?”
Vivian’s hand shook.
“You think you’re brave?”
“No.”
Mara touched her bleeding lip.
“I think I’m pissed off.”
Grant entered with Eli.
The boy ran toward Mara.
Grant grabbed his collar.
“Card.”
Mara pulled it from her pocket.
“Eli first.”
Grant smiled.
“No.”
“Then no deal.”
A door opened.
Dr. Hale pushed Rebecca into the room in a wheelchair.
She was pale.
Too thin.
But alive.
Eli made a sound Mara would never forget.
“Mom?”
Rebecca looked at him.
Her entire face broke.
“Oh, baby.”
Eli fought Grant.
“Mom!”
Rebecca tried to stand.
Hale held her down.
“Give him the card,” Vivian said.
Mara looked at Rebecca.
Then Eli.
Then Grant.
“Okay.”
She held it out.
Grant approached.
Mara dropped it.
He looked down.
That was all she needed.
She drove her forehead into his face.
Grant screamed.
Mara grabbed Eli.
Hale reached for Rebecca.
Rebecca swung the metal footrest of the wheelchair into his knee.
Vivian shouted.
A gun appeared in Grant’s hand.
“STOP!”
Everyone froze.
Blood ran from his nose.
His eyes were wild.
No polish now.
No billionaire smile.
Just rage.
“You stupid little criminal.”
Mara put herself in front of Eli.
Grant aimed at her chest.
“You had one job. Clean the house and keep your mouth shut.”
Mara stared at the gun.
“You forgot something.”
“What?”
“This house has cameras.”
Grant laughed.
“I own the cameras.”
“Not anymore.”
His smile faded.
Mara looked toward the small black lens above the fireplace.
“You really think I came here without turning them back on?”
Grant’s face changed.
Somewhere miles away, Hayes was watching.
So was a federal agent.
And so was a journalist broadcasting the feed to a secure server.
Grant looked at the camera.
Then at Mara.
“You’re bluffing.”
Mara smiled.
May you like
“Smile for America.”
Grant fired.
