Chapter 3 - THE FIRE ON FOURTEEN
The smoke was wrong.
Too fast.
Too dark.
Cormac had seen building fires.
This was accelerant.
“Back exit,” he said.
Quinn was already moving.
Of course she knew the emergency layout.
She knew everything.
Cormac opened the private service panel behind the bookcase.
Quinn stared.
“You have a hidden staircase?”
“My father loved unnecessary architecture.”
“Useful today.”
They entered.
Cormac closed the panel behind them.
Smoke alarms screamed.
Below, men shouted.
The service stairwell smelled clean.
No smoke yet.
“Where does this exit?”
“Thirteenth-floor mechanical room.”
“Cameras?”
“One.”
“Who watches it?”
“Security.”
Quinn stopped.
Cormac looked back.
“What?”
“You said the fourth man works here.”
“Yes.”
“If he knows this route—”
“My father’s senior people know every route.”
Cormac drew his gun.
Quinn stared at it.
“No.”
“What?”
“If whoever set the fire sees you armed, they shoot first.”
“That is the idea.”
“Cormac.”
First time she used his name without Mr. Sheridan in the office.
He noticed.
Wrong moment.
Still noticed.
“What do you suggest?”
“Let them think we are evacuating.”
“You have experience with this.”
Quinn’s face went blank.
Too much.
Cormac put the gun behind his back.
Not away.
Compromise.
They reached thirteen.
The mechanical room door stood open.
Bad.
Cormac motioned Quinn behind him.
She rolled her eyes.
He ignored that.
They moved through.
Empty.
Then a voice from the hall.
“Boss?”
Rory.
Cormac exhaled.
Rory appeared around the corner carrying a fire extinguisher twice the size needed.
His face was black with soot.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving files.”
“Why?”
“Quinn said backups matter.”
Quinn looked offended.
“Not during fires.”
“Oh.”
Cormac almost laughed.
“Where is Declan?”
“Twelfth floor. Security says fire started in records.”
Records.
The room where Quinn changed.
The room containing old property files.
And maybe evidence someone wanted destroyed.
Cormac looked at Quinn.
She understood.
“McKenna file.”
“What?”
“The binder you came for.”
“You think that’s target?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“The shelf behind it.”
Cormac’s pulse changed.
“What’s behind it?”
Quinn looked at Rory.
“Nothing he needs to know.”
Rory nodded enthusiastically.
“I am excellent at not knowing.”
Cormac said, “Go downstairs.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And stop saving paper.”
“Yes, boss.”
He left.
Cormac looked at Quinn.
“Talk.”
“Later.”
“No.”
“Smoke is moving.”
“What’s behind the shelf?”
Quinn exhaled.
“I found a ledger.”
Of course.
Cormac hated ledgers now.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you did not tell me.”
“I wasn’t sure it was real.”
“What ledger?”
“Cash movements from twelve years ago.”
His father’s era.
Eamon Sutherland.
Six million.
“Where?”
“Hidden behind false backing.”
Cormac stared.
“And you left it there?”
“I photographed it.”
“Where are photographs?”
“Encrypted.”
“Where?”
Quinn looked at him.
“My phone.”
He held out his hand.
She did not give it.
“Quinn.”
“If you see them now, you will go downstairs and kill someone.”
“That is not an argument against showing me.”
“Yes, it is.”
Cormac had no response.
Smoke began entering the mechanical room.
“Fine. Move.”
They descended.
At twelve, Declan met them.
“Fire crew inbound. Suppression activated. Nobody trapped.”
“Records?”
“Gone.”
Cormac’s jaw tightened.
Declan looked at Quinn.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you with him?”
Cormac answered:
“Because I opened the wrong door.”
Declan stared.
Quinn closed her eyes.
“Not now.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Cormac almost smiled.
Then security chief Brendan Keane approached.
And Quinn changed.
Cormac saw it.
Her shoulders tightened.
Her face emptied.
Brendan was fifty-two.
Broad.
Gray at the temples.
Worked for Patrick Sheridan for twenty-five years.
Had known Cormac since childhood.
Taught him to shoot.
Carried him out of a bar fight at eighteen.
One of the closest things Cormac had to an uncle.
Brendan looked at Quinn.
Then at Cormac.
“Boss. Fire contained. Electrical fault in records wall.”
Quinn said quietly:
“No.”
Brendan’s eyes moved to her.
“What?”
“It wasn’t electrical.”
He smiled faintly.
“You an electrician now?”
“No.”
Cormac watched both.
Quinn’s scarred back flashed in his memory.
She works here.
The fourth man.
No.
Please no.
“Brendan,” Cormac said.
“Yeah?”
“Where were you at eleven fifty-eight?”
Security chief frowned.
“Garage.”
“With?”
“Two drivers.”
“Names.”
Brendan laughed.
“Cormac.”
“Names.”
His smile vanished.
“Danny and Pete.”
Declan looked between them.
“What is this?”
Cormac ignored him.
Quinn spoke.
“Brendan.”
He looked at her.
She removed her glasses.
“What was the name of the motel in Worcester?”
Everything stopped.
Brendan’s face did not change.
But his right hand moved half an inch.
Toward jacket.
Cormac drew first.
“Don’t.”
Declan froze.
Brendan stared at Cormac’s gun.
Then at Quinn.
“No idea what she means.”
Quinn’s voice remained calm.
“Room 214.”
Brendan said nothing.
“The wallpaper had green flowers.”
Cormac’s stomach turned.
Quinn continued.
“You wore a silver watch.”
Brendan’s face hardened.
“The others called you Keane.”
Declan whispered, “Jesus.”
Brendan looked at Cormac.
“You believe her?”
Cormac hated that question.
Because fifteen minutes ago, maybe not.
Now?
“Yes.”
Brendan laughed once.
“Your father would be ashamed.”
“Get your hand away from your coat.”
“He knew what loyalty required.”
Cormac’s gun did not move.
“What did he order?”
Quinn said, “Cormac.”
He glanced.
Her face had gone pale.
Not now.
She had said no questions.
But Brendan had become the answer.
“What did my father order?”
Brendan smiled.
“Find the money.”
“And she was sixteen.”
“She knew where her father hid it.”
Cormac’s vision narrowed.
“You hurt a child over money.”
“She was not a child.”
Quinn flinched.
Cormac almost fired.
Declan said quietly:
“Boss.”
Warning.
Witnesses.
Cameras.
Fire crews approaching.
Cormac forced his finger away from the trigger.
“Rafael—” wrong. “Declan. Disarm him.”
Declan moved.
Brendan did not resist.
That was worse.
He smiled at Quinn.
“You should have stayed gone.”
Cormac stepped between them.
“Look at me.”
Brendan did.
“Not her.”
He obeyed.
Cormac’s voice lowered.
“You are done speaking to her.”
Brendan almost laughed.
“Protective now?”
Cormac’s jaw tightened.
“She works for me.”
Quinn looked at him.
Bad phrasing.
He corrected:
“She is under my protection.”
Worse maybe.
Her expression said so.
He tried again.
“She is here because she chooses to be. You do not get to touch her.”
Better.
Quinn looked away.
Declan removed Brendan’s gun and phone.
“Where do we put him?”
Cormac stared.
Private room would be normal syndicate procedure.
Interrogation.
Fear.
Violence.
Quinn was watching.
He knew what old systems did in closed rooms.
“No basement.”
Declan looked surprised.
“Then?”
“Conference room. Two guards. Camera running.”
Brendan laughed.
“Going corporate.”
“Trying civilization.”
“You won’t last.”
Maybe not.
But Cormac was suddenly very tired of inheriting his father’s methods.
Firefighters flooded the floor.
Employees evacuated.
Brendan was taken.
Quinn disappeared into the stairwell.
Cormac saw her leave.
He followed five minutes later.
She stood on the tenth-floor landing.
Alone.
Hands shaking.
The first time he had seen them shake.
“Quinn.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
She laughed softly.
“That word again.”
He stayed several steps away.
“What do you need?”
The question surprised her.
Not what happened.
Not tell me.
What do you need.
She leaned against the wall.
“Five minutes.”
“Okay.”
He sat on the step.
Not beside her.
Below.
Less threatening.
For five minutes, they listened to alarms.
Then Quinn said:
“He was the one with the watch.”
Cormac looked ahead.
“Brendan.”
“Yes.”
“Who were the others?”
“Two collectors. One doctor.”
“Doctor?”
“He kept me conscious.”
Cormac’s stomach turned.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
“You didn’t do it.”
“My family did.”
“That is not the same.”
“Feels close.”
“Then stop making their sins about you.”
Sharp.
Accurate.
Cormac almost smiled.
“Fine.”
Quinn pulled out her phone.
Unlocked it.
Opened an encrypted folder.
Photographs.
Ledger pages.
Cormac looked.
Cash transfer.
Six million moved from a Sheridan syndicate account.
Recipient code: HARBOR LIGHT.
Then disbursements.
Payments to police.
Port officials.
A judge.
A federal informant.
And one name.
PATRICK SHERIDAN.
Cormac stared.
“My father paid himself?”
“No.”
Quinn zoomed.
The account owner behind Harbor Light.
A shell company.
Registered trustee:
MAEVE SHERIDAN.
Cormac’s mother.
Dead nineteen years.
His mother had supposedly known nothing about the syndicate.
She died of cancer when Cormac was sixteen.
Quinn whispered:
“Your father didn’t torture me to find stolen money.”
Cormac looked at her.
“What then?”
“He tortured me because my father found proof your mother was building an exit fund.”
“For who?”
Quinn scrolled to the next page.
Names.
Women.
Children.
Employees.
Witnesses.
People Patrick controlled.
The account was designed to help them disappear.
Cormac stopped breathing.
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“She was helping people escape my father.”
“Yes.”
“And Eamon?”
“He moved the money for her.”
Cormac stared at Brendan’s signature authorizing an internal search.
The story his father told him for twelve years shattered.
Eamon Sutherland was no thief.
Maeve Sheridan was no passive wife.
Patrick was not protecting the family.
He was hunting people trying to leave.
Cormac whispered:
“Why didn’t Brendan kill you?”
Quinn looked at the floor.
“He thought I gave them the location.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“My father.”
“What happened to him?”
She closed her eyes.
“He made a deal.”
“With who?”
“Federal prosecutors.”
Witness protection.
Cormac understood.
“Then why is he dead?”
Quinn looked at him.
“Because somebody inside witness protection sold him back to your father.”
A new conspiracy.
Older.
Bigger.
Cormac’s phone buzzed.
Declan.
He answered.
“Brendan is gone.”
Cormac stood.
“What?”
“Two guards unconscious. Camera looped.”
Impossible.
Only security leadership could loop those feeds.
Brendan had help.
Declan continued:
“Boss, someone opened the loading dock.”
Quinn stood too.
“Who?”
Declan hesitated.
“Your code.”
Again.
Someone was using Cormac’s credentials.
Cormac looked at Quinn.
Then the building power died.
All floors.
Dark.
In the emergency red glow, Quinn whispered:
May you like
“This is exactly how they took my father.”
And somewhere below them, an elevator began moving up.
