Chapter 11 - The Clean Room
The blinding lights of the emergency room ceiling were worse than the warehouse darkness. Clara sat on the examination table in a clean paper gown, a cold compress held against her broken nose, while a nurse methodically swabbed antiseptic across the scrapes on Lily’s arms.
The hospital was guarded. Two armed officers from a regional tactical unit stood outside the double doors, their presence keeping the hospital staff at a tense, whispered distance.
A tall woman with silver-streaked hair cut into a sharp bob walked into the cubicle. She wore an expensive charcoal suit and carried a slim leather briefcase. She didn't offer a badge; she didn't need to.
“Mrs. Pendelton,” the woman said. “I am Katherine Cross. National Crime Agency. Special Operations.”
Clara didn't lower the compress. “Is Vance alive?”
“Inspector Vance died on the floor of that warehouse twenty minutes before our tactical units breached,” Cross said, her tone devoid of emotion. “He bled out from an arterial wound. But he lived long enough to give us the decryption key to Arthur’s offshore servers.”
Lily flinched at her father’s name. Clara reached out with her free hand, interlacing her fingers with her daughter’s.
“And the man on the catwalk?” Clara asked.
“Declan Moran is dead. The second man is in custody. He’s already providing details on the shipment at Tilbury to avoid being returned to Ireland in a box.” Cross sat on the plastic chair opposite the bed and snapped open her briefcase. “Which brings us to your daughter.”
Clara’s posture stiffened immediately. “Lily had nothing to do with this. She didn't know what Arthur was doing.”
“We know that, Mrs. Pendelton,” Cross said quietly. “However, Arthur forged Lily’s signature on eighteen corporate filings. The Moran syndicate believes this child is the legal owner of seven million pounds of seized assets. Until that syndicate is dismantled—which will take months, if not years—neither of you can exist.”
Clara let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. “I already didn't exist for seven years. I came back to give her a normal life.”
Cross pulled out two dark blue folders, laying them on the rolling tray table. “There is no normal life waiting in that manor house, Clara. Julianna’s family has already filed an emergency injunction freezing all Pendelton assets. Arthur is going to prison for twenty-five years minimum. And you are the primary witness against twelve men who kill people for recreational sport.”
Lily looked up from her bandages. “Are we going to have new names again?”
May you like
Clara looked at the folders. She knew what was inside: new identities, new national insurance numbers, a small stipend, and a flat in a coastal town three hundred miles away where nobody would ever ask about a missing woman from Dover.
“No,” Clara said firmly, looking Cross dead in the eye. “Not this time.”
