Chapter 8 - Protecting the Perimeter
Two days after Margaret Vance’s arrest, the atmosphere on the estate shifted again. Federal marshals maintained a quiet, low-profile presence near the main gates, and Miller’s security detail was augmented by a rotating shift of vetted personnel.
Nora continued her daily routine, refusing to let corporate paranoia disrupt Maisie’s life. Yet, she couldn't shake the unease that lingered in the back of her mind. Margaret’s parting words—they use systems—echoed during the quiet hours of the night.
On Thursday afternoon, Nora was in the west wing linen closet when her radio crackled to life.
“Nora, come in.” It was Roman’s voice, calm but tight.
“Go ahead, Roman,” she replied, pressing the comm button.
“Take Maisie and meet Miller by the service vehicle. We’re taking a trip into town for a few hours.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Just routine maintenance on the security mainframe. I want everyone off the primary grid while the feds sweep the servers.”
Nora didn't ask further questions. She knew that tone; it was the voice Roman used when he was preparing for a storm and didn’t want anyone else caught in the rain. She hurried down to the service entrance, scooped up Maisie—who was right in the middle of building a block tower—and met Miller by the black SUV idling near the drive.
“Hop in, Mrs. Ellis,” Miller said, opening the door with a polite nod. “Boss’s orders. We’re heading down to the private lodge near the lake for the afternoon.”
The drive down to the lakehouse was smooth, the winding tree-lined roads peaceful under the summer sun. But as Nora looked out the rearview mirror, she noticed something strange: an unmarked gray sedan was maintaining a precise, hundred-yard distance behind them through every turn.
“Miller,” Nora said quietly, leaning forward from the back seat while keeping Maisie distracted with a picture book. “We’re being tailed.”
Miller’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. His expression didn't panic, but his jaw tightened. “Noticed them three miles back, Mrs. Ellis. Professional tail. They’re keeping off the comms.”
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“Is Roman’s security compromised?”
“Boss anticipated this,” Miller said, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “He didn't send us to the lakehouse for a vacation. He drew them out.”
