Chapter 2 - The Lining of the Leather
Vincent did not return to the private elevator. Instead, he steered Lucy, the golden retriever, and Frank toward the executive parlor behind the concierge desk—a soundproofed room paneled in dark walnut, reserved for VIP guests who required discreet crisis management.
"Frank, bolt the door," Vincent commanded quietly. "Put the shades down."
Frank moved without question. His brass knuckles clicked faintly inside his coat pocket, a nervous habit he had possessed for twenty years. "Vincent, Miller and the city logistics guys are blowing up my phone. They think you had a medical emergency."
"Let them think I’m dead if it keeps them sitting in that boardroom," Vincent said. He set the matte-black leather briefcase on the low mahogany coffee table.
Scout immediately stepped forward, his tail dropping low, neck fur bristling. The dog pressed his wet black nose directly against the lower seam near the brass buckle, letting out a sharp, muted whine.
"Sit, Scout," Lucy whispered softly. Her sneakers squeaked on the parquet floor. She reached down, trembling slightly, and rested her small hand on the retriever’s broad head. "Good boy. Shh."
Vincent knelt down so his eyes were level with Lucy’s. For a man whose name caused judges to sweat and aldermen to leave town, his voice was surprisingly gentle. "Lucy. Where is your mother?"
"She’s parking the car," Lucy said, her voice small. "The garage under the library was full. She told me to wait in the lobby out of the cold because my coat zipper broke."
Vincent glanced at Frank. "Send two boys to the lower entrance. Discreet. If a woman is looking for her daughter, bring her here with respect. No guns drawn, no frightening her."
"On it," Frank muttered, stepping toward the corner with his phone to his ear.
Vincent turned his attention back to the briefcase. It was a custom English bridle leather piece, handcrafted in Florence. He had packed it himself at dawn. Tablet, fountain pen, river acquisition papers, bank authorizations. Nothing more.
He reached inside his tailored charcoal coat and drew a slender, surgical-steel folding knife.
Lucy gasped softly, taking half a step back. Scout let out a warning rumble from deep in his chest.
"Easy, buddy," Vincent said, keeping his hands slow and deliberate. "I’m not hurting anything. Watch."
With the steady hands of a surgeon, Vincent slit the interior silk lining along the bottom spine of the case. Beneath the rich black satin lay a layer of dense foam that had never been there before. Vincent pinched the foam and peeled it back.
Tucked into a precision-cut groove was an ultrathin carbon-fiber rectangle, no thicker than a credit card. Embedded in its center was a military-grade transceiver with a pulsing, microscopic amber light. Attached to it was an inductive coil that rested flush against the spot where Vincent kept his encrypted business tablet.
Frank stepped over, looked down, and froze. "Mother of God. That’s a hardware clone sniffer. It’s bleeding your hard drive in real time."
"Not just mine," Vincent said, his voice dropping into an icy register that made the room feel ten degrees colder. "Whoever built this knew my daily schedule down to the second. They knew I’d open the briefcase during the Calumet River signing at nine-thirty. The moment I unlocked the tablet, this transmitter would dump forty years of banking codes, port manifests, and political ledgers straight into an off-site receiver."
"And frame you for federal treason before noon," Frank whispered.
Vincent looked up from the device to the little girl standing by the sofa. Lucy was hugging Scout around the neck, her wide, intelligent hazel eyes watching the blinking amber light.
"Lucy," Vincent said softly. "How did your dog know that light was inside this bag?"
Lucy swallowed hard. "Because my dad made things like that. Before he went away, our basement was full of them. Scout used to find where Daddy dropped his microchips so Mommy wouldn't step on them."
Vincent went dead still. "Your dad... David Hayes?"
May you like
"Yes," Lucy nodded, her chin quivering. "David. But he didn't go away on a trip like Mommy said. Two men in dark suits pushed his car into the river last winter. I saw them from the bridge."
***
