Chapter 14 - The Visitation at Cumberland
Dawn broke over a bruised, charcoal sky. Local state troopers, coordinated by David’s former colleagues in the FBI's Boston field office, had cordoned off the cliffside perimeter and transported the two apprehended operatives to an undisclosed interrogation facility.
Noah was safe, escorted under heavy federal guard to David’s sister's secure ranch in Vermont. Clara refused to hide. Fear was a currency she had long since stopped paying.
"Eleanor isn't hiding in Zurich or the Caymans," Clara told David as they stood in the interrogation suite of the Cumberland County Federal Detention Center. "She’s here. She had to be close enough to verify the extraction of the Master Ledger."
David folded his arms, his expression grim. "The captured operative carried a maritime radio programmed with frequencies belonging to a superyacht anchored five miles off Cape Elizabeth. The *Siren’s Call*. Officially flagged under a Panamanian corporation, but we both know whose flag it really flies."
"We need leverage," Clara said. "And there’s only one person alive who knows Eleanor’s personal fail-safes."
Two hours later, Clara sat on the opposite side of a reinforced acrylic glass partition in the maximum-security psychiatric wing of the Butner Federal Correctional Complex.
Julian Vance looked nothing like the arrogant, impeccably tailored scion who had poured champagne over her dignity at Vance Manor. His hair was cropped raggedly short, his frame gaunt, his skin the sickly, pallid gray of fluorescent institutional lighting. His once-haughty eyes were sunken, rimmed with dark, sleepless circles.
When he saw Clara sit down, a twisted, pathetic sneer touched his lips, but his hands trembled as he picked up the heavy plastic receiver.
"Come to gloat, Clara?" Julian’s voice rasped through the intercom. "Come to see what’s left of the man who gave you everything?"
"You never gave me anything, Julian," Clara replied evenly, her voice steady and untainted by anger. "You were a parasite living off blood money. And now the real owner of that money has returned."
Julian’s smirk vanished instantly. His fingers clenched the receiver until his knuckles went chalk-white. "What... what did you say?"
"Eleanor," Clara stated simply. "She’s off the coast of Maine. She attacked my home last night. She wants the Master Ledger."
Julian’s face drained of what little color it possessed. Terror, pure and unadulterated, convulsed across his features. "No. No, she’s dead. Arthur told me she was buried in Greece—"
"Arthur lied to you. Just like you lied to everyone else," Clara said. "She controlled the Aletheia accounts. She left you to take the fall because she considered you weak, Julian. An incompetent child playing with matches."
Julian began to hyperventilate, his eyes darting frantically around the barren visitor booth as if Eleanor’s ghost might emerge from the concrete walls. "You don't understand... Clara, please. If she’s alive, she won't just kill you. She’ll erase you. She has judges, ministers, admirals on her payroll. She built the Vance foundation out of blood!"
"Then give me the cipher, Julian," Clara leaned closer to the glass, her gaze piercing. "The cipher Arthur hid in your childhood trust. The one you thought was useless when the DOJ froze your assets. Give it to me, and I’ll ensure she never touches Noah. Even you wouldn't want her near your son."
Julian stared at her, tears of humiliation and primal dread welling in his eyes. For the first time in his life, the Vance heir realized that the woman he had tried to crush was the only wall standing between his child and annihilation.
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"The date," Julian choked out, weeping openly now. "The date wasn't 2:00 PM because of your audit. Arthur chose that hour because of her. It’s an algorithm based on her date of birth. 02-14-1954. Combine it with the deed to the lighthouse at Heron Rock. The cipher is in the foundation stone."
***
