Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Cardigan
“Find her.”
Marcus did not move.
Damian looked at him.
“I said find Hazel.”
“We’ve been trying.”
“Trying?”
“Her apartment is empty.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“Empty how?”
“No clothes. No photographs. No personal documents. Nothing.”
“She lived there for three years.”
“Apparently not.”
Damian stared at the frozen image of Hazel on the monitor.
“What about payroll?”
“Bank account closed Wednesday morning.”
“Phone?”
“Disconnected.”
“Family?”
Marcus hesitated.
“That’s another problem.”
“What problem?”
“Hazel Brooks doesn’t appear to exist before six years ago.”
Damian slowly closed the notebook.
Marcus continued.
“Social Security record is clean. Driver’s license is clean. College records exist. Employment history exists.”
“So?”
“So they’re too clean.”
Damian understood.
A constructed identity.
Someone had built Hazel Brooks.
“Who was the man in the corridor?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Damian turned toward the technician.
“Show me what happened afterward.”
The footage continued.
Hazel disappeared toward the boardroom.
Seven minutes later, another man entered the service corridor.
He wore an Apex security uniform.
Damian recognized him.
“Colin?”
Marcus nodded grimly.
Colin Price had worked building security for eleven years.
On-screen, Colin opened the closet.
He found the unconscious intruder.
Instead of calling for help, he removed the man through the freight elevator.
Then Colin returned and deleted the recording.
Damian’s voice became cold.
“Where is Colin now?”
“Missing.”
The basement suddenly felt much smaller.
Damian looked at Hazel’s notebook again.
“Get me everything on Bastion Locke.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“You think Locke sent him?”
“I think Hazel did.”
He tapped the notebook.
“She wrote Locke’s name repeatedly.”
Marcus opened one of the recovered pages.
“There’s something else.”
He pointed to a sequence of dates.
Damian recognized them.
His flight to Miami.
A charity gala.
A warehouse inspection.
His regular Thursday dinner.
Beside each date, Hazel had written names.
Marcus said, “These aren’t appointments.”
“What are they?”
“Security incidents.”
Damian stared.
Three months earlier, his car had developed brake trouble before leaving the garage.
Hazel had insisted he use another vehicle.
Six months earlier, she had changed his hotel room in Boston because of a supposed plumbing issue.
Nine months earlier, she had canceled a private dinner after claiming the restaurant lost the reservation.
Damian felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“She’s been protecting me.”
“For a while.”
“How long?”
Marcus turned several pages.
“Possibly three years.”
Damian’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone looked at him.
He answered.
“Russo.”
Silence.
Then a familiar voice.
“Don’t go home.”
Damian stood completely still.
“Hazel.”
Marcus immediately signaled the technician.
They began tracing the call.
Damian lowered his voice.
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“It didn’t six days ago.”
The words landed cleanly.
Damian had no answer.
Hazel continued.
“Your home security was compromised forty minutes ago.”
Marcus looked sharply toward Damian.
“How do you know?”
“Because whoever entered used Colin Price’s master credentials.”
Damian looked at Marcus.
“Hazel, tell me where you are.”
“No.”
“I saw the footage.”
Silence.
“I know what happened.”
“You know twenty-two minutes of what happened.”
“Then tell me the rest.”
“I tried.”
Damian remembered the boardroom.
Her damaged cardigan.
Her controlled voice.
His own laughter.
His face hardened with regret.
“I didn’t listen.”
“No, you didn’t.”
The technician held up three fingers.
Almost traced.
Damian needed time.
“Who are you?”
Hazel was quiet for several seconds.
“Someone who made the mistake of thinking three years behind a desk could make me ordinary.”
“Were you planted at Apex?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“That answer could get people killed.”
“Hazel—”
“Ask Marcus about Black Harbor.”
Marcus went pale.
Damian noticed.
Hazel’s voice softened.
“And Damian?”
It was the first time she had ever used his first name.
“Yes?”
“Don’t trust the people standing closest to you.”
The call ended.
The technician cursed.
“Lost it.”
Damian slowly turned toward Marcus.
“What is Black Harbor?”
Marcus did not answer.
Damian stepped closer.
“Hazel just risked contacting me to tell me to ask you.”
Marcus looked toward the security staff.
“Clear the room.”
Nobody moved.
“Now.”
When they were alone, Marcus locked the door.
Then he looked at Damian.
“Black Harbor was a federal investigation.”
“Into what?”
“Organized theft, port corruption, corporate espionage.”
Damian frowned.
“What does that have to do with Hazel?”
Marcus met his eyes.
“Seven years ago, Black Harbor had one field operative who penetrated the network deeper than anyone else.”
Damian already knew the answer.
Marcus said it anyway.
May you like
“Her real name wasn’t Hazel Brooks.”
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