Chapter 6 - THE FIRE ALARM
By the time we reached the West Dock warehouse, the alarm was still sounding. Workers stood outside beneath flashing red lights. No smoke rose from the building.
“The server room is on the second floor,” Noah said.
Luca’s site manager, Ruth Delgado, met us at the entrance. “The alarm was pulled by hand. We’re checking the floor.”
“Is anyone inside?” Luca asked.
“Two technicians were on duty. Both are out.”
Noah exhaled. “Then we may still have time.”
Inside, the server room door stood open. One equipment rack was empty.
Ruth swore under her breath. “That rack was here when I left at six.”
A camera covered the hallway, but its feed had stopped at 8:52. Someone had known exactly where to cut it.
Noah crouched beside the exposed cables. “There’s a backup.”
Ruth looked at him. “Where?”
“It sends a copy off-site every night.”
“What time?” Luca asked.
“Midnight.”
We all checked our phones. 11:26.
“If somebody can get into the backup account before midnight,” Noah said, “they can wipe it.”
Daniel had stayed at the garage with Marcus’s team. He had given Luca the password to his own computer and offered to help. Luca had refused to leave him alone with anything connected to the company.
Ruth led Noah to her office. I followed. My hand ached, but I could hold a flashlight while he worked beneath her desk.
“Go sit down,” he told me.
“Keep typing.”
He gave me the smallest smile.
At 11:41, Noah found the backup account. Someone else was logged in.
At 11:48, they changed the password.
Noah pulled a cable and switched to a local recovery screen. “I can still get in.”
At 11:55, the other user tried to delete the account.
“Can you stop it?” Luca asked.
“I’m trying.”
The screen flashed. Noah entered a long string of commands, then slammed one finger on the return key.
At 11:59, a message appeared: BACKUP LOCKED FOR PRESERVATION.
Ruth let out a breath. “You did it.”
Noah didn’t celebrate. He opened the latest copied folder and turned the monitor toward Luca.
Alongside the invoices was a scanned page bearing Luca’s signature. It authorized the transfer of the West Dock property to an outside company on October 18.
“That’s my signature,” Luca said.
“Did you sign it?” I asked.
“No.”
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Noah enlarged the bottom of the page. Beneath the forged signature was the name of the person assigned to witness the transfer.
CLAIRE DAWSON.
