"Which member?"
Samuel laughed without humor.
"Not member. Members."
Vanessa glanced through the glass wall at Sterling's executive offices.
"How many?"
"At least three."
"Names."
"I won't say them on the phone."
"Where are you?"
"Cincinnati."
"I'll come to you."
"No."
"Then tell me where."
Another pause.
"I kept copies."
"Of what?"
"Everything."
Vanessa gripped the phone.
"Why didn't you give them to regulators?"
"I tried."
"What happened?"
"They disappeared."
"Again?"
"Again."
Vanessa looked at Rebecca.
"Do you still have them?"
"Not with me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere nobody at Sterling could reach."
Vanessa's voice lowered.
"Samuel, someone nearly died today."
"I know."
"Help me stop this."
Long silence.
Then Samuel said, "There's a storage locker at Union Station in Washington."
He gave her a number.
"Locker 318."
"What's inside?"
"The reason Martin was paid."
Vanessa wrote it down.
"And the board members?"
"They're in there too."
"When can I access it?"
Samuel hesitated.
"I'll send the key."
"How?"
"You already have it."
Vanessa frowned.
Then she remembered the padded envelope.
She checked it again.
Inside the seam was a tiny brass key she had overlooked.
Vanessa looked at Rebecca.
"We're going to Washington."
Daniel stood.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Vanessa—"
"You concealed this from me for two years."
"I can help."
"You've helped enough."
Daniel's face broke.
But he stayed behind.
Vanessa and Rebecca boarded a government-arranged flight to Washington before midnight.
They landed at Reagan National.
Federal investigators met them but agreed Vanessa could retrieve the locker contents under observation.
Union Station was nearly empty.
Locker 318 stood at the end of a corridor.
Vanessa inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside was a black case.
Rebecca photographed everything before Vanessa touched it.
Documents.
Photographs.
USB drives.
Printed bank records.
Board communications.
Vanessa opened the first folder.
Three names appeared.
Martin Hale.
Board member Preston Shaw.
Board member Evelyn Grant.
And a fourth name Vanessa never expected.
Thomas Cole.
Her older brother.
Chairman of Sterling Airways.
Vanessa stared at the page.
Then her phone vibrated.
Thomas was calling.
She answered.
"Vanessa."
His voice was calm.
"Put the folder back."
Vanessa stopped breathing.
"How do you know where I am?"
A sound echoed behind her.
A locker door closing.
Vanessa turned.
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At the far end of the corridor, a man stepped from the shadows.
And he was holding another key to locker 318.
Federal agents moved immediately.
The man raised both hands.
He wasn't armed.
He identified himself as Peter Lang, a private investigator employed by Sterling's board.
Vanessa stared at him.
"Why are you here?"
Peter looked uncomfortable.
"I was told to retrieve corporate property."
"By Thomas Cole?"
He hesitated.
That was enough.
Vanessa returned to the call.
"Thomas, you sent someone after these files."
Her brother sighed.
"You don't understand what you're holding."
"Then explain it."
"Not over the phone."
"Try."
Thomas had been part of Sterling before Vanessa.
Their father, Richard Cole, founded a cargo charter company decades earlier.
Thomas inherited the financial instincts.
Vanessa inherited the operational obsession.