Chapter 8 - THE COST OF GETTING OUT
“Records chute,” Clara said.
Gabe turned.
“What?”
“Old paper delivery shaft. Behind the shelving.”
Arthur was already moving.
Together, they dragged a steel rack away from the wall.
A square maintenance panel appeared.
Clara had found the shaft during an insurance inspection. She had put the repair request in three separate reports.
No one had approved the expense.
Gabe tore the panel loose.
The opening was narrow and black.
“Where does it go?”
“Mailroom.”
“One floor up.”
Arthur linked his hands.
“Clara. First.”
She hugged the lunchbox to her chest.
“No. Take this.”
She pushed it into the shaft, then climbed.
Metal scraped her palms. Smoke followed her upward.
At the top, she shoved against another panel.
It shifted half an inch.
Something heavy blocked it.
“Clara?” Gabe called.
She braced her boots and pushed harder.
A cabinet scraped across the floor above.
Fresh air struck her face.
She crawled into the mailroom and dragged the cabinet aside.
Gabe came next.
Arthur followed, coughing hard.
They reached the street through a window as flames appeared behind the basement glass.
Naomi waited across the road beside two unmarked cars.
“You sent the location?” Clara asked Gabe.
“Before we went in.”
Agents moved toward them.
Arthur straightened instinctively.
One agent pointed at his hands.
“Keep them where I can see them.”
For once, Arthur obeyed.
Inside an unmarked sedan, Clara handed over Daniel’s lunchbox.
Naomi sat beside her.
“You need to hear something before we start,” the attorney said. “They can protect you. They cannot promise you won’t face charges.”
Clara looked toward Arthur.
He stood beneath a streetlight while an agent searched him.
“I know.”
“Your records matter too.”
“I kept copies.”
“Where?”
“A private storage account. And paper files somewhere safe.”
Naomi nodded.
“Then we tell them everything.”
An agent carried over a tablet.
They had opened the small memory card Ruth provided.
The video continued beyond the clip Clara had received.
Daniel’s face was bruised. His voice shook.
“I gave Arthur the numbers. Ask him.”
Julian stepped into frame.
“Arthur signed the transfer order.”
Clara looked through the windshield.
Arthur stared back at her from across the street.
The agent paused the video.
May you like
“We recovered that order from the lunchbox.”
At the bottom, above Daniel’s name, was Arthur’s signature.
