Chapter 8 - Fire in the Archives
The thick plume of gray smoke rolling out of the archive room confirmed Maeve’s worst suspicions before she even crossed the threshold. Rows of towering mahogany bookshelves stretched into the gloom, and near the back corner, a small metal waste bin was overflowing with burning paper, sending thick, acrid billows toward the high ceiling.
Standing beside the burning bin was Arthur Pendelton. The elderly archivist looked up, his pale face slick with sweat, a gold-plated flash drive clutched tightly in his trembling right hand.
"Ms. Kessler," Pendelton rasped, his voice shaking violently as he tried to back away from the smoke. "You shouldn't have broken in here. This is private financial history. The Vales... they built this empire on graves that deserve to stay buried."
"Put the flash drive down, Arthur," Maeve said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the flames like a razor. She stepped into the room, her eyes fixed entirely on his hands. "You thought poisoning Adrian would create enough chaos to let you wipe the servers and disappear with Cross's retirement fund. But you made one critical mistake."
Pendelton laughed, a high, manic sound that echoed off the stone walls. "Mistake? I've survived twenty years under Adrian Vale's boot! Do you think a cleaner from the eastern corridor understands how this syndicate operates? Cross offered me freedom. A new life in Europe. All I had to do was hand over the digital archive."
"Cross isn't offering you freedom, Arthur. He's offering you a shallow grave," a cold, lethal voice echoed from the doorway.
Maeve didn't need to look back to know it was Adrian. He stood in the ruined doorway, his coat pulled back to reveal the dark leather holster beneath his left arm. His expression was absolute granite—devoid of anger, sorrow, or mercy.
Pendelton’s eyes widened with sheer terror. He lunged toward a small side door leading to the estate's old service tunnel, raising his left hand to toss the flash drive into the open flames of the metal bin.
Before the archivist's fingers could release the drive, Maeve moved with explosive speed. She lunged across the floor, tackling Pendelton mid-stride. They crashed hard against a rolling wooden ladder, sending dozens of heavy historical ledgers crashing down around them in a deafening clatter. Marcus was on them a second later, wrenching Pendelton's arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel zip-ties around his wrists.
Maeve picked herself up off the dusty floor, brushing soot from the knees of her tailored trousers. She reached down, retrieved the gold flash drive from the edge of the burning bin, and held it up to the light. Intact.
Adrian walked slowly over to them, looking down at the whimpering archivist before shifting his gaze to Maeve. A faint, appreciative smile touched the corner of his mouth. "You really do have a habit of breaking into rooms at the most opportune times, Ms. Kessler."
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"It's a gift," Maeve replied, slipping the flash drive into her breast pocket. "And as for Mr. Pendelton, I suggest we lock him in a very secure room downstairs. Let's see how much he likes burning secrets when he's the one trapped behind a closed door."
***
