Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
But Margaux is going to wake up one day to frozen accounts and federal agents and the discovery that the money set aside for her future was mixed with the proceeds of crimes she never knew about. And that day will happen because of choices I made at this keyboard while the only person who might’ve talked me out of it was unconscious with a fever a few feet away.
I close the laptop. I cross to the cot.
Render’s deep in the fever now. His skin radiates heat even from a short distance. His breathing has settled into a steadier rhythm. I find a clean cloth, wet it with cool water, wring it out carefully, and rest it across his forehead.
It’s a small thing. The kind of quiet care he once showed me with mint in the water and clean sheets when we had almost nothing.
“I did it,” I tell him softly. He can’t hear me. His eyes move behind closed lids, following something in the fever I can’t see. “The map is complete. When you wake up, we’ll have everything we need.”
I don’t tell him about Margaux. Not yet. When he wakes I’ll explain the choice and the weight I carried while he slept. I think he’ll understand. He’s always been the one who asks the hard questions quietly.
I sit beside the cot for a long moment, watching him. The cloth rests cool against his hot skin. His face is softer in sleep, the usual sharp control smoothed away by the fever. Dark hair damp at the temples. One hand open on the blanket.
I adjust the cloth when it starts to warm, my fingers brushing his forehead for just a second longer than necessary.
Then I go back to the table. There’s still work to finish so everything is ready when the breach begins. The timing has to be exact.
I prepare the final pieces. Package the evidence. Set the triggers.
Then I sit in the quiet storage unit and wait for Render to wake, the cloth still cool on his forehead, the clock still counting down.
13
Render
I come back in pieces.
The first piece is sound. The low hum of the fluorescent lights. The soft pulse of the uplink. A steady clicking of keys that I recognize right away as Enley’s. Her rhythm is a little faster than mine, with small pauses where I usually keep going.
The second piece is heat. Not the sharp heat of hard work, but the heavy, draining heat of a body that’s been fighting something for hours and has almost nothing left. My shirt’s damp. The cot feels like it’s been holding my fever and giving it back to me.
The third piece is time. I’ve got no idea how long I was out. The storage unit has no windows. The lights never change. It could’ve been two hours or twelve.
I open my eyes. The light above me is too bright and I have to squint. “What time is it?” My voice sounds rough, like I swallowed gravel.
“Nine at night.” Enley’s voice comes from the table. Steady and calm. “You’ve been out about ten hours.”
Ten hours. The breach is only twenty-nine hours away. I try to sit up and the room tilts hard. I grip the edge of the cot until the spinning slows.
“Don’t stand yet,” she says. “Drink this first.”
A water bottle appears in my hand. I don’t remember her crossing the room, but she’s kneeling beside the cot now, watching me with a mix of concern and something heavier. Like she’s carrying news she needs to share and it shows in the set of her jaw.
I drink. The cool water tastes better than anything I can remember. I finish the bottle and she hands me another.
“The fever broke about two hours ago,” she says. “It peaked mid-afternoon and started dropping after that. The medicine helped. So did the fluids I kept giving you.”
“You were giving me water while I was out?”
“Every hour. Water with the electrolyte packets from the medical kit. You swallowed them without really waking.” She pauses. “I also cleaned and rebandaged the cut on your shin from the river. It was infected. I drained it and put the antibiotic ointment on it.”
Wow. I don’t really know what to say except, “Thank you.”.
“Don’t thank me yet.”
The guarded look in her eyes deepens. She stands, goes back to the table, and turns the laptop so I can see the screen from the cot.
“I finished the Goldenbell work,” she says. “The full money map is done. Every account. Every connection. The last part is ready to go the moment we give the signal during the rescue.”
She finished everything. I left her with a lot still unfinished and she completed it while I was unconscious.
“Will you show me?” I ask.
She walks me through it carefully. The money trails leading out of the Channel Islands trust. The accounts in other countries. The way everything connects. The work is clean and thorough. No gaps. No loose ends. Exactly what we need to take Serafina down for good.