Chapter 16 - The Voice in the Concrete
The tape clicked into the battery-powered player we brought up to the drafting desk.
Ethan stood by the perimeter windows, watching the blizzard bury the city streets below, while Marcus stood by the door, watching the shadows of the mezzanine.
The hiss of magnetic tape filled the room before a familiar, dry cough cut through the static.
"Claire," my father’s recorded voice spoke from beyond the grave, sounding weary, older than I remembered, carrying the weight of a dozen compromises.
"If you are hearing this, it means Ethan either failed to protect you, or he possessed enough decency to lead you to the truth."
Ethan didn't turn around, but his shoulders tightened beneath his damp coat.
"I took their money when your mother was sick," the recording continued, the voice steady, devoid of self-pity. "I took it because Chicago is an expensive city to be poor in, and Harrison Carter made it very easy to sign my name on the bottom of fraudulent structural certifications. But a man cannot rent his integrity to devils and expect to buy it back at a discount."
The sound of paper rustling came through the speaker.
"Inside this trunk are the original escrow contracts for every municipal contract awarded to the Carter Corporation since 1984. Every bribe paid to the Board of Commissioners, every corrupt inspector, every kickback for the tunnel system under the loop. But more importantly, it contains the legal deed to the ground this theater stands on. Harrison thought he owned it through a shell company. But I structured the holding company through a blind charitable trust in your mother’s maiden name."
I pressed my fingers against my lips, tears finally cutting hot tracks through the soot on my cheeks.
"You own the dirt, Claire," Julian Montgomery said, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "You own every brick, every girder, and every inch of the sky above it. Don't trade it to save Ethan. Don't trade it to appease Roman. Use it to bury them both."
The tape reached the end of the spool and snapped shut with a hollow *clack*.
The silence in the auditorium was deafening.
I looked at Ethan.
He turned slowly from the window, his eyes dark with an unreadable mixture of relief and absolute ruin.
"He left you the knife, Claire," Ethan said softly. "All you have to do is turn it."
May you like
Before I could answer, the headlights of three black SUVs swept across the shattered glass of the front lobby.
The doors slammed open below, followed by the heavy, synchronized footsteps of armed men moving through the marble foyer.
