Chapter 7 - Nine Minutes of Air
Theodore had prepared for this.
Julian knew because his father had distrusted locked rooms.
When Julian was a boy, Theodore taught him a peculiar rule.
Every prison built by intelligent men contains a second way out, because intelligent men always imagine themselves becoming prisoners.
Julian searched the walls.
Clara found the ventilation system.
Elias, monitoring through their remote connection, obtained the original Dominion building plans.
“There should be an inspection shaft behind the north shelving.”
Julian tore files away.
Metal panel.
Four bolts.
No tools.
Clara handed him the brass key.
The shaft fit one screw.
They twisted until Julian’s fingers bled.
Seven minutes.
The ventilation hiss intensified.
Arthur was not removing oxygen.
He was introducing nitrogen.
Faster.
Clara’s legs weakened.
Five minutes.
Julian removed the last bolt.
Behind the panel was a shaft barely large enough for one person.
“You first.”
Clara shook her head.
“The case.”
“I’ll bring it.”
“No. Julian.”
He grabbed her face.
“Go.”
She entered.
Julian pushed the Orpheus case after her.
Three minutes.
His vision blurred.
Clara crawled.
The shaft dropped downward.
She kicked through a maintenance grille and fell into darkness.
Julian followed.
Security alarms activated.
They emerged into an abandoned subway utility tunnel beneath the building.
Elias guided them remotely toward an emergency exit.
Arthur’s men reached the vault moments too late.
By morning copies of the files existed in six locations.
Julian refused to make them public immediately.
Clara objected.
“Why?”
“Because Arthur controls too many people. If we dump everything now, he identifies witnesses and destroys whatever we missed.”
“So we do nothing?”
“We build a case he can’t suffocate.”
They contacted federal prosecutor Naomi Hale, Marcus Hale’s older sister.
Unlike Marcus, Naomi had spent twenty years prosecuting organized financial crime.
She examined the files.
“This is enough to open an investigation.”
“Is it enough to arrest Arthur?”
“No.”
Clara laughed bitterly.
“Of course not.”
Naomi did not react.
“It proves unethical research happened. It proves financial concealment. It suggests identity crimes. It does not prove murder.”
“What about my father shooting Theodore?”
“Your memory is evidence, but defense attorneys will attack the treatments that affected your memory.”
Clara hated how sensible that sounded.
“What do you need?”
“A living corroborating witness.”
Elias counted.
“I’m one.”
“You didn’t see the shooting.”
Margaret had not either.
Cole had.
Cole would never cooperate.
Or so they believed.
Three days later Dr. Cole requested a meeting.
He arrived alone at an underground parking garage.
Julian brought Naomi and two federal agents concealed nearby.
Cole looked older than his fifty-seven years.
“I want immunity.”
Naomi said, “You’re not in a negotiating position.”
“I have Nora.”
Clara stopped moving.
Cole corrected himself.
“I know where Nora is.”
He claimed Arthur had ordered Nora relocated after the fire.
Cole arranged a new identity.
Arthur believed she later died.
She had not.
“Where?”
Cole looked at Clara.
“If Arthur discovers I told you, I’m dead.”
Julian stepped forward.
“If you don’t tell her, you may have a shorter problem.”
Naomi intervened.
Cole gave them an address.
A psychiatric residential facility in Vermont.
Patient name: Anna Grey.
Clara went immediately.
The woman sitting beside the facility garden was thirty years old.
Blond hair.
Thin.
A scar behind her left ear.
Clara stopped twenty feet away.
“Nora?”
The woman looked up.
No recognition.
Clara approached.
“My name is Clara.”
Nothing.
“I’m your sister.”
The woman tilted her head.
Then she saw the brass key hanging from Clara’s hand.
Her expression changed.
She stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
“No.”
Clara froze.
Nora began screaming.
“No key. No key. No key.”
Staff rushed toward them.
Clara stepped backward.
Nora pointed at her.
May you like
Then shouted a sentence that silenced everyone.
“You were the one who locked the door.”
