Chapter 6: What Richard Buried
Julian reached the door first.
He pulled the handle.
Locked.
“Security!”” he shouted.
No answer.
I grabbed my phone.
No signal.
“That doesn't make sense.””
Julian checked his.
“Mine's dead too.””
Lucas looked toward the ceiling.
“Someone's blocking them.””
Then the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
I heard myself gasp.
“Grace.””
Julian's hand found mine.
“I'm here.””
The irony of those words almost made me laugh.
Instead, I whispered, “Don't let go.””
A red emergency light flickered on near the exit.
Lucas stood beside the conference table.
“Someone doesn't want us reading these files.””
Julian released my hand long enough to search his pockets.
He pulled out a small flashlight.
“We're on the twenty-third floor. Whoever locked us in has to get past building security eventually.””
“Unless they are building security,” I said.
Julian looked at me.
Fair point.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
They stopped outside the door.
Lucas stiffened.
The handle moved once.
Then twice.
“Who's there?”” Julian called.
No answer.
A piece of paper slid beneath the door.
Julian picked it up.
Three words were printed in black ink.
BURN THE BOX.
I stared at it.
“That's subtle.””
Julian almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Lucas whispered, “They've done this before.””
“What?””
“Fear.””
He touched the side of his head.
“Richard didn't threaten people loudly. He made them understand.””
Another fragment.
I stepped toward Lucas.
“What did he do to you?””
Lucas closed his eyes.
“I went back for the copies.””
“The night of the collapse?””
“Yes.””
“I hid them.””
“Where?””
“I can't…”
“Lucas, please.””
Julian interrupted.
“Don't push him.””
Lucas shook his head.
“No. I can see it.””
He walked toward the photographs scattered across the table.
“Concrete. Steel beams. An elevator shaft.””
His fingers hovered over an old site plan.
“Here.””
He pointed at a section labeled MECHANICAL BASEMENT.
“I hid something behind a wall.””
Julian bent over the blueprint.
“The original Halsted building was never completed after the collapse.””
“Where is it now?””
“Redeveloped.””
“Into what?””
Julian looked up.
“One of our hotels.””
Twenty minutes later, the archive door opened.
I jumped backward.
A security officer stood outside.
“Mr. Mercer?””
Julian stared at him.
“Who locked this?””
“Nobody, sir.””
“The electronic lock engaged.””
The guard frowned.
“This door doesn't have an electronic lock.””
Julian's expression hardened.
“Pull every camera recording from this floor.””
“Already checking.””
“And nobody leaves the building.””
The guard hesitated.
“Sir, there was a maintenance contractor here about ten minutes ago.””
“Name?””
“He signed in as David Shaw.””
Lucas made a choking sound.
I turned.
“What?””
He grabbed the table.
“Shaw.””
“You know that name?””
“I think so.””
Julian stepped closer.
“From Halsted?””
Lucas nodded.
“A foreman.””
We searched the project roster.
David Shaw.
Site Foreman.
No termination date.
No forwarding address.
Julian called his head of security.
“I want everything you can find on David Shaw. Quietly.””
Then he looked at us.
“We're leaving.””
“Where?””
“The Halsted property.””
I stared at him.
“At two in the morning?””
“If someone is threatening us over those files, we find whatever Lucas hid before they do.””
The Mercer Grand Hotel stood where the unfinished structure had once been.
Its lobby was all polished stone, brass, and soft music.
I wondered how many guests had slept above the place where my father nearly died.
Julian took us through a staff corridor into the basement.
Lucas slowed immediately.
“I know this place.””
“You've never been in this hotel,” Julian said.
“Not this hotel.””
He touched a concrete column.
“This.””
The old structural core had been preserved inside the renovated building.
We entered the mechanical level.
Lucas walked ahead.
Left.
Right.
Then stopped beside a section of older concrete.
“There.””
Julian called hotel maintenance.
A manager arrived with tools.
“What exactly am I opening, Mr. Mercer?””
“That wall.””
“Sir, that's original structural infill.””
“Open it.””
Twenty minutes later, a rectangular section had been carefully removed.
Behind it was a narrow cavity.
Empty.
My heart sank.
“Nothing.””
Lucas stared inside.
“No.””
He reached farther.
His fingers touched something.
“There.””
He pulled out a rusted metal document case.
The lock had corroded.
Julian broke it with a wrench.
Inside were papers sealed in plastic.
Lucas sank onto a crate.
“I did this.””
I touched his shoulder.
“You saved them.””
Julian opened the first packet.
Purchase orders.
Steel specifications.
Inspection reports.
Then photographs.
One showed visibly cracked support joints.
Another showed workers replacing certification tags on steel beams.
At the bottom was a cassette tape.
Julian stared at it.
“Do we have anything that plays this?””
The hotel manager nodded.
“Security office might.””
Ten minutes later, we were gathered around an ancient tape deck.
Julian inserted the cassette.
Static filled the room.
Then a man's voice.
Richard Mercer.
“You're making a serious mistake, Bennett.””
Lucas gripped my hand.
A younger voice answered.
His voice.
My father's.
“People are going to die, Richard.””
“Nobody's going to die.””
“You falsified the inspections.””
“Lower your voice.””
“I've already made copies.””
Silence.
Then Richard laughed.
“You think you're the first righteous man who's tried to destroy me?””
The recording crackled.
My father's voice came again.
“If anything happens to me, these records go to the police.””
Richard replied calmly.
“Then perhaps something should happen to the records.””
A door slammed on the tape.
Another voice entered.
Young.
Furious.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?””
Julian.
Beside me, my husband went rigid.
On the recording, Richard shouted, “Get out!””
“No. He says the building isn't safe.””
“Julian—”
“If you don't call the city, I will.””
Then came a scuffle.
A crash.
My father's voice.
“Leave the kid alone!””
The tape dissolved into static.
Julian covered his mouth.
“I tried to help you.””
Lucas stared at him.
“Yes.””
For the first time since we'd found the photograph, I saw something inside Julian loosen.
Then the recording resumed.
Richard's voice was farther away.
“Shaw.””
Another man answered.
“Yes, sir.””
“Take Julian home.””
“What about Bennett?””
A pause.
Then Richard said, “I'll handle Bennett.””
Lucas began trembling.
But the tape wasn't finished.
There was another sound.
A third man's voice.
Older.
Familiar enough that every hair on my arms rose.
“Richard, you promised Grace would never learn the truth.””
I stopped breathing.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it every Christmas of my childhood.
Every birthday.
At my mother's funeral.
I whispered the name before the recording could.
“Uncle Robert.””
Lucas turned toward me.
And suddenly his face filled with recognition.
May you like
“Robert Bennett,” he whispered.
“My brother.””
