Chapter 69 - The Ultimatum
Lind hit the intercom button. "State your terms, Evelyn."
The woman on the porch—Evelyn—let out a dry, humorless chuckle that crackled over the small speaker. "The terms are simple, Marcus. You slide the lead packet and the cipher through the mail slot. In exchange, the two men currently parked outside Caleb Miller’s house in Keene will turn their vehicle around and drive away. If the packet is not in my hands in five minutes, the New Hampshire team will breach the residence."
"Caleb and the children aren't there," I called out toward the speaker, stepping back into the hall.
"Don't lie to me, Myrna," Evelyn answered smoothly. "Your son didn't take your advice. He packed two suitcases, argued with his wife on the front lawn for twenty minutes, and then went back inside because he couldn't find his car keys. They are sitting in the kitchen right now, drinking tea and waiting for the local sheriff to arrive. A sheriff, I might add, whose re-election campaign was funded by Julian’s legal trust."
A cold, sickening dread pooled in my stomach. Caleb was my son, born of my blood, but his utter inability to grasp reality had finally written his own death warrant. He had ignored my warning just as he had ignored my boundary when he dumped four children on my doorstep at dawn.
"Five minutes, Myrna," Evelyn repeated. "The clock is running."
Lind grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong for an old man. "Myrna, listen to me. If you hand over the cipher, they’ll kill Caleb anyway. Roland Vance does not leave loose ends. The moment he has the master codes, the entire Miller family becomes an unnecessary liability."
"I know," I whispered.
"Then what are you doing?"
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the tarnished Swiss coin, and handed it to Lind. "Take this down to the cellar. Transmit the hash sequences from the film directly to Davies’s secure line in New York. Tell him to initiate the emergency seizure protocols immediately."
"And what will you give Evelyn?" Lind asked, staring at the coin.
May you like
I picked up the heavy utility knife from the table, sliced a piece of lead flashing from the corner of Lind’s antique fireplace hearth, and wrapped it carefully around an ordinary copper washer I found in his toolbox.
"I’m going to give her what my daughter-in-law gave me," I said, my voice colder than the Atlantic drizzle outside. "A very convincing distraction."
