Chapter 4 - The Man at Damian’s Table
The shipping archive was beneath Apex’s oldest warehouse on the Chicago River.
Damian, Hazel, and Marcus entered shortly after midnight.
Marcus locked the steel door.
“AR-419,” Damian said. “October seventeenth.”
Hazel sat at the terminal.
“Seven years ago.”
Damian watched her type.
“You could have accessed this when you worked for me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Your oldest archives require executive biometric authorization.”
Damian placed his thumb on the scanner.
The screen unlocked.
Hazel searched.
One record appeared.
AR-419.
The cargo manifest listed industrial machinery.
But the ship had been rerouted twice.
Damian leaned closer.
“Who authorized that?”
Hazel opened the signature record.
Nobody spoke.
Damian read the name twice.
VINCENT RUSSO.
His uncle.
The man who had raised Damian after his father died.
The vice chairman of Apex.
Marcus whispered, “Damian…”
“No.”
Hazel said nothing.
Damian turned toward her.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I needed proof.”
“He built this company with my father.”
“He also approved the route that destroyed Black Harbor.”
Damian’s voice sharpened.
“Careful.”
Hazel stood.
“You wanted the truth.”
“I want evidence.”
She pointed at the screen.
“You’re looking at it.”
The warehouse lights suddenly went out.
Marcus reached for his phone.
Hazel whispered, “Don’t.”
Emergency lights flickered on.
A voice came from the darkness.
“My nephew always was stubborn.”
Damian froze.
Vincent Russo emerged between the archive shelves.
Bastion Locke walked beside him.
Several men remained behind them.
Damian looked at his uncle.
“Tell me she’s wrong.”
Vincent sighed.
“You should have left the past buried.”
Damian’s face changed.
“You used Apex.”
“I expanded Apex.”
“You sold our routes.”
“I created alliances.”
“With Locke?”
Bastion smiled.
“With people who understand business.”
Hazel stepped beside Damian.
Vincent looked at her.
“Evelyn Shaw.”
“Vincent.”
“I wondered when the cardigan would come off.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“You knew who she was?”
“Eventually.”
“Then the man in the corridor—”
“Was supposed to retrieve her badge.”
Bastion interrupted.
“And remove a problem.”
Damian looked at him.
“You sat across from me while it happened.”
“I enjoyed the meeting.”
Damian started forward.
Hazel quietly touched his wrist.
One small movement.
Stop.
Damian stopped.
Vincent noticed.
“Interesting. You never listened to anyone, Damian.”
“I learned recently.”
Hazel looked at Vincent.
“You still have one problem.”
“What?”
“The archive is open.”
Vincent smiled.
“So?”
“So the moment Damian authorized access, the records duplicated to an external server.”
Bastion’s smile vanished.
Vincent stared at her.
“You’re lying.”
Hazel tilted her head.
“You spent three years watching me carry coffee. Did you really learn nothing?”
Marcus suddenly laughed.
Everyone looked at him.
Vincent’s face darkened.
“What’s funny?”
Marcus lifted his phone.
“She isn’t lying.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Bastion turned toward Vincent.
“You said you controlled this building.”
“I do.”
Hazel answered.
“Not anymore.”
Chaos followed, but Damian kept his attention on Vincent.
His uncle stared at him.
“I gave you everything.”
“You gave me a company built on secrets.”
“I made you powerful.”
Damian shook his head.
“My father made me his son. You made yourself a thief.”
Vincent’s expression turned cold.
“You’re choosing her over your family?”
Damian glanced at Hazel.
“No.”
He looked back at Vincent.
“I’m choosing the truth over you.”
Minutes later, authorities entered the warehouse.
Bastion tried to leave through a loading exit and was stopped.
Vincent remained still.
As he was escorted away, he looked at Hazel.
“You think this ends because you found one manifest?”
Hazel’s face changed.
Damian noticed.
Vincent smiled.
“You still don’t know who ordered Black Harbor destroyed.”
Then he disappeared through the doors.
Damian looked at Hazel.
“What did he mean?”
She stared at the open archive.
“We found the people who used Apex.”
“But not the person controlling them.”
“No.”
Damian looked at the screen.
A second file had appeared beneath AR-419.
Hazel opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Seven years old.
Five men around a table.
Vincent.
Bastion.
Three others.
One face made Hazel stop breathing.
Damian noticed immediately.
“You know him.”
Hazel whispered one name.
“Daniel Shaw.”
“Who is Daniel Shaw?”
She looked at Damian.
May you like
“My father.”
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