Chapter 15 - The Last Name on the List
We thought Northstar was finished.
We were wrong.
Again.
Eighteen months after Victor’s conviction, Naomi Chen called me at 6:12 in the morning.
I knew immediately something was wrong because federal prosecutors do not call nonprofit directors before sunrise to discuss donations.
“We found another account.”
I sat up.
Damian woke beside me.
“What kind?”
“Northstar.”
My stomach sank.
“I thought the reserve funds were frozen.”
“They are.”
“This is different.”
“How different?”
“Active.”
That word changed everything.
Someone had moved money three weeks earlier.
Nikolai was in federal custody.
Victor was in prison.
Most known operators had been arrested or identified.
So who was still using the network?
Naomi sent a name.
I stared at it.
Dr. Stephen Patel.
My mother’s doctor from St. Agnes.
“No.”
Damian read over my shoulder.
His face hardened.
Patel had treated my mother for years.
He knew her schedule.
Her medications.
Her vulnerabilities.
He had access when she was photographed.
Access when flowers appeared.
Access before the attempted oxygen sabotage.
I felt sick.
“We trusted him.”
Damian said nothing.
Because there was nothing useful to say.
Federal investigators placed Patel under surveillance.
I was told not to contact him.
For five days, we watched.
Then Patel requested a meeting with me.
Directly.
At the Open Door office.
Naomi wanted to wire me.
Damian wanted to surround the building.
I wanted answers.
Patel arrived at seven in the evening.
He looked exhausted.
Not dangerous.
That meant nothing anymore.
He sat across from me.
“I know what you think.”
“I doubt it.”
“You think I worked for Northstar.”
“Did you?”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
The word hurt.
“For how long?”
“Twelve years.”
“Did you hurt my mother?”
“No.”
“Did you give them her medical information?”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
I stood.
Damian moved from the corner.
I held up one hand.
He stopped.
Patel continued.
“They had evidence against me.”
“What evidence?”
“When I was a resident, I altered narcotics records.”
“To cover for another doctor.”
“I was twenty-seven.”
“Stupid.”
“Afraid.”
“Nikolai found out years later.”
“So you became his informant.”
“Yes.”
“You gave him patient information.”
“Only specific names.”
“As if that makes it better?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“It doesn’t.”
My hands shook.
“Why come here?”
“Because they contacted me again.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“A woman.”
“She said Northstar isn’t dead.”
“She told me to provide medical information on Elena Volkov.”
Damian stepped forward.
Patel looked at him.
“I refused.”
“Then yesterday someone left this in my apartment.”
He put a flash drive on the desk.
Federal technicians examined it remotely.
Video.
A woman entered a bank.
Baseball cap.
Glasses.
Her face eventually became visible.
Cassandra Vale.
I stared.
“No.”
Cassandra had been in protective relocation.
New identity.
New state.
She was not supposed to be anywhere near Manhattan.
Naomi contacted the Marshals Service.
Cassandra was missing.
Her assigned residence had been empty for four days.
No signs of struggle.
She left voluntarily.
That looked terrible.
Then my private office phone rang.
No one outside staff had the number.
I answered on speaker.
Cassandra.
“Sofia.”
My anger rose.
“Where are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
“Are you working with Northstar?”
“No.”
“Then why are you moving their money?”
“Because Adrian is alive.”
Everything stopped.
“What?”
“My brother.”
“He never died.”
“I saw his body.”
“It wasn’t him.”
“I was drugged before identification.”
“My father arranged everything.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“He contacted me four days ago.”
“He says he spent seven years hiding.”
“From Victor?”
“From Nikolai.”
“Why use Northstar accounts?”
“Because Adrian told me there’s one final operator.”
“Someone nobody identified.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“He does.”
“Then put him on the phone.”
Silence.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Cassandra started crying.
“Because they took him.”
Damian looked at Naomi.
Trace in progress.
Cassandra continued.
“They want the remaining frozen account credentials.”
“I don’t have them.”
“They think I do.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then how do we help?”
“You don’t.”
“I called to warn you.”
“About what?”
“Open Door.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“They’ve been using your applicant database.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Someone inside your organization is feeding information to Northstar.”
Names.
Addresses.
Victims.
Witnesses.
Families.
People we were supposed to protect.
I felt physically ill.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find your leak.”
The call disconnected.
We shut down Open Door’s systems within ten minutes.
Staff access suspended.
Servers isolated.
Leah arrived.
Federal cyber teams arrived.
By midnight, we found the breach.
Not a hacker.
An employee credential.
Our deputy director.
Melissa Grant.
I had hired her.
Trusted her.
Invited her to my home.
She knew Marco.
She brought soup when my mother was sick.
I stared at the access logs.
“No.”
Damian stood beside me.
“People are not always what we believe.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t make it easier.”
“No.”
Melissa had downloaded 417 client files over eleven months.
Including survivor addresses.
Medical data.
Legal appointments.
Witness cooperation status.
We called police.
Her apartment was empty.
Again.
Always empty.
Always one step late.
Then Leah found a scheduled email.
Set to send at midnight.
To me.
I opened it.
Sofia,
If you are reading this, I failed to get out.
I did not join them willingly.
They found my daughter.
You never knew I had one.
Almost nobody does.
Her father took her when she was six.
Northstar found them both.
I have been giving information because they promised she would live.
I am sorry.
There is one person left.
Adrian Vale knows who.
Do not trust Patel.
Do not trust Cassandra.
Do not trust anyone who was connected to St. Agnes.
The final operator calls herself Mercy.
I know where she will be tomorrow.
Then an address.
St. Agnes Hospital.
Room 417.
My mother’s old room.
Below it.
Noon.
Come before they erase everything.
I looked at Damian.
He already knew.
“We’re going.”
This time he didn’t say no.
“Together.”
May you like
He said.
And that single word told me how much both of us had changed.
