Chapter 12 - THE ROOM THAT NEVER EXISTED
Police sealed half the fourth floor.
Officially, Conrad Sterling had been found in a maintenance area.
Unofficially, Charlotte knew immediately what that meant.
Someone had entered Room 417.
The question was who.
Conrad had died from a gunshot wound.
No weapon nearby.
No standard hotel cameras covered the corridor where he was discovered.
Victoria could not be reached.
Caleb Rusk had vanished.
Charlotte sat in her father’s stripped office while detectives worked downstairs.
Nathan arrived under escort.
“You asked for me.”
Charlotte looked at him.
“Conrad is dead.”
“I heard.”
“Did you know he was inside the hotel?”
“No.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
Charlotte watched him.
Nathan looked exhausted rather than defensive.
“I suspended you,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You still came.”
“You asked.”
“Why?”
Nathan almost smiled.
“You own the hotel.”
“That didn’t stop you lying.”
“No.”
Charlotte handed him her father’s letter.
He read it.
When he reached Mara’s name, he looked up.
“So he did leave instructions.”
“You knew?”
“I knew there was a letter. Not where.”
Charlotte studied him.
“I’m going into Room 417.”
Nathan shook his head.
“No.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because you know the route.”
Nathan looked toward Alexander, who stood by the windows.
“Having him in this building is insane.”
Alexander smiled.
“Good to see you too.”
Nathan ignored him.
Charlotte continued.
“Police are focused on Conrad’s death. Whoever controls Room 417 may start destroying evidence.”
Nathan sighed.
“Probably already has.”
“Then we move.”
Mara arrived ten minutes later.
Her face was pale but determined.
“I checked.”
Charlotte stood.
“What?”
“My father’s records.”
“And?”
“He didn’t die when I was sixteen.”
Alexander said nothing.
Mara looked at him.
“He disappeared. My mother changed our names and told me he was dead.”
Charlotte stepped closer.
“Did you find anything about the lock?”
“Yes.”
Mara opened her palm.
A small metal capsule lay there.
“My mother gave me this when I turned eighteen. Said it belonged to him.”
Alexander recognized it.
“Biometric token.”
Mara looked sick.
“I thought it was some kind of old keychain.”
Charlotte said:
“Then we have both keys.”
Nathan swore.
“What?”
He looked at Charlotte.
“If the room opened for Conrad, somebody may still be inside.”
Charlotte reached into her bag.
She removed a compact legal defensive spray.
Nathan stared.
“That’s your plan?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You’re my plan.”
Nathan actually laughed.
For the first time, something like the man she remembered returned.
They entered the laundry level after midnight.
The route began behind industrial dryers.
Nathan pushed aside a service panel.
A narrow passage appeared.
Charlotte had walked these basements as a teenager.
She had never seen it.
They followed pipes and cables until they reached an old freight elevator.
No buttons.
Only a brass keyhole.
Charlotte inserted the key.
The doors opened.
Inside was a black metal panel.
Mara held the capsule near it.
A light flashed.
Then a small scanner illuminated.
Mara pressed her thumb against it.
Nothing.
She tried again.
A red light.
Alexander frowned.
“Maybe it needs bloodline confirmation.”
Mara stared.
“What does that mean?”
A voice spoke from the speaker.
“Identity incomplete.”
Charlotte looked at Alexander.
“Great.”
Mara pressed the capsule against the panel.
A compartment opened.
Inside was a tiny needle.
“No,” Nathan said immediately.
Mara looked at Charlotte.
Charlotte shook her head.
“You don’t have to.”
Mara laughed nervously.
“I crossed half Manhattan with people trying to kill us. I’m not stopping because of a needle.”
She pressed her finger.
A drop of blood entered the scanner.
Green light.
“Quinn succession confirmed.”
The elevator descended.
Not far.
Perhaps fifteen feet.
The doors opened.
A black corridor stretched ahead.
At the end stood a steel door.
417.
Charlotte’s pulse hammered.
Nathan whispered:
“This is where William met them.”
Charlotte inserted the brass key.
The steel door unlocked.
Inside was a room unlike anything else in the hotel.
No luxury.
No decorative furniture.
Just conference tables.
Locked cabinets.
Servers.
Old filing systems.
A wall of photographs.
Charlotte stepped closer.
Guests.
Politicians.
Businessmen.
Celebrities.
Judges.
Some photographed entering the Solmere.
Others in private meetings.
Mara whispered:
“Jesus.”
Alexander went directly to a cabinet.
Empty.
“Someone cleaned part of it.”
Charlotte moved toward the center table.
A laptop sat open.
Screen dark.
Nathan checked the adjoining room.
“Clear.”
Charlotte found folders labeled by years.
Payments.
Settlements.
Confidential agreements.
Blackmail.
Not all of it illegal.
Some was simply devastating.
Careers.
Affairs.
Bribes.
Hidden ownership interests.
The Solmere had been used as a private intelligence exchange.
Her family’s hotel was a marketplace for secrets.
Charlotte felt ill.
Mara opened a drawer.
“Charlotte.”
Inside was a file with Eleanor Vale’s name.
Charlotte reached for it.
Before her fingers touched the folder, the lights went out.
Nathan shouted:
“Down!”
A gunshot exploded through the darkness.
Glass shattered.
Charlotte dropped.
Another shot.
Someone screamed.
Emergency lights flickered red.
Charlotte looked toward the doorway.
A silhouette stood there.
Gun raised.
Then a voice Charlotte recognized said:
May you like
“Move away from the Eleanor file.”
Victoria Sterling stepped into the red light.
