Chapter 11 - The Fire Plan Begins
We called Evelyn.
No answer.
The camera showed her wrapping the chain around our bedroom handles.
A red container sat near the wall.
Daniel moved toward the door.
Marcus stopped him.
“We do not know who is waiting at the house.”
“My mother is there.”
“That may be exactly why the feed was sent.”
Elena struggled against the restraints.
“Warren scheduled the operation before coming here.”
Warren pressed a hand against his wound.
“I did not.”
“Then who did?” I asked.
He looked at Elena.
Her face lost its certainty.
The camera angle shifted.
Marta’s old blind spot.
Someone else was controlling the feed from inside Blackthorn House.
Evelyn looked toward the staircase as if listening to instructions.
Then she poured liquid across the hallway carpet.
Daniel shoved Marcus’s arm away.
“I’m going.”
“So am I,” I said.
Marcus objected.
“You are both targets.”
“It is our house.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“No,” I said. “It is the one place the archive operation keeps returning to. My bedroom, the guesthouse, the greenhouse, the hidden recordings. Something is there.”
Priya looked at the security feed.
“The original property plans show a sealed basement chamber beneath the east wing.”
“I have never seen it.”
“It does not appear on renovation documents.”
Warren laughed weakly.
“Arthur chose Blackthorn before Claire bought it.”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
“The estate was once a Halcyon storage site.”
“I found it through a public listing.”
“Your broker received a private incentive to recommend it.”
Even my home had been selected for me.
I looked at Daniel.
He understood.
The bedroom fire was never only about killing me.
It was about destroying something hidden inside the house.
We left Warren under medical guard, Elena in restraints, and Priya protecting the archive.
Ortiz joined us on the drive.
Police and fire crews were ordered to stage two miles away until Marcus cleared the property. He feared compromised responders.
Rain began falling as we approached Blackthorn House.
The gates stood open.
No lights were visible inside.
The live camera feed had gone black.
We entered through the west kitchen.
The house was silent.
No smoke.
No fire.
“Mom?” Daniel called.
Marcus signaled for silence.
A faint sound came from upstairs.
Metal scraping wood.
We climbed.
Evelyn stood outside our bedroom exactly as the camera had shown.
The chain hung loosely through the handles.
She turned when she saw us.
“Daniel?”
He approached cautiously.
“Mom, step away from the door.”
Her hands were trembling.
“I received a call.”
“From whom?”
“He said Claire was already inside.”
I was standing ten feet away.
Evelyn stared at me.
“He said you had been drugged. That men were coming to burn the room and destroy the chamber below it.”
“What did he tell you to do?” I asked.
“Chain the doors so they would believe the plan was proceeding.”
“You poured accelerant.”
“Water.”
Marcus knelt and touched the carpet.
She was telling the truth.
The red container held water mixed with a chemical odor.
A performance for the cameras.
“Why not call us?” Daniel asked.
“The caller knew your location. He said if I warned you, Elena would kill you.”
“Elena is in custody.”
Evelyn’s expression shifted.
“Then who took the photograph?”
“We still don’t know.”
A knock came from inside the bedroom.
Everyone froze.
Daniel whispered, “Someone is in there.”
Marcus signaled two agents toward the balcony exterior.
He removed the chain and opened the door.
The room was empty.
Another knock sounded.
Below us.
Three slow impacts beneath the floorboards.
Priya’s basement chamber.
We moved the bed and rolled back the carpet.
A rectangular seam appeared in the wooden floor.
Daniel found a hidden latch beneath the radiator.
The panel opened.
Stone steps descended into darkness.
The chamber below was older than the house.
Iron shelves lined the walls.
Most were empty.
At the center stood a steel table holding a reel-to-reel recorder, files, and a large sealed trunk.
The knocking came from inside the trunk.
Marcus approached.
“Identify yourself.”
A muffled voice answered.
“Claire.”
I recognized it immediately.
Nathan.
We opened the trunk.
My brother lay inside with his hands bound and tape across his mouth.
He had been beaten badly.
Daniel removed the tape.
Nathan gasped.
“He’s in the walls.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The original Silas.”
Warren had said Silas was a position.
Nathan shook his head frantically.
“No. Warren took the name, but the first man never died.”
“That would make him over eighty.”
“He is.”
“Where is he?”
Nathan looked toward the ceiling.
“In the house.”
The lights went out.
May you like
A lock slammed above us.
Then smoke began pouring through the ventilation grates.
