Chapter 5 - The Serial Number That Should Not Exist
Rafael’s office occupied the top floor of an old customs building overlooking Port Mason.
I expected marble.
There was some.
I expected armed men.
There were several.
I did not expect children’s drawings taped beside his desk.
One showed a purple ship with twelve yellow windows.
Another showed a man with enormous hands standing beside a girl wearing a crown.
I looked too long.
“My niece.”
Rafael entered on crutches.
“Lena?”
He paused.
“You looked me up.”
“I watched the news.”
“She’s eight.”
“Good artist.”
“She thinks perspective is oppression.”
I almost smiled.
Then Vincent Hale placed three document boxes on the conference table.
“Inspection records.”
Rafael sat.
I opened the first.
Meridian Marine Systems.
Pressure certification.
Supplier documents.
Valve serials.
Everything looked correct.
Too correct.
Counterfeit systems survive by imitating paperwork before hardware.
I found the regulator serial after twenty minutes.
MMS-O2-44178.
I opened my phone.
Years earlier, I had photographed the counterfeit regulator from the Mercy Dawn before my device was confiscated during the investigation.
I thought the image was gone.
A cloud backup had survived.
Serial:
MMS-O2-44171.
Seven numbers apart.
Rafael leaned closer.
“So?”
“Serials that close should come from the same production run.”
“Could.”
“The manufacturer told investigators six years ago that 44171 never existed.”
His face changed.
“And this one?”
“If the records say it exists, either they changed their numbering system…”
“Or someone created paperwork after the fact.”
“Yes.”
Vincent took the page.
Rafael asked, “Who manufactured it?”
I enlarged the old photograph.
A triangular mark.
“Original paperwork said Harrow Medical Engineering.”
Vincent looked at Rafael.
I noticed.
“What?”
Rafael did not answer immediately.
Finally:
“Harrow supplied equipment for my sister’s hospital.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened to her?”
“Leukemia.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She died twelve years ago.”
The ship was named for her because Rafael had spent years funding emergency-care access in coastal towns she once volunteered in.
That did not make him a saint.
People are rarely one thing.
“Did Harrow cause something?”
Rafael stared toward the harbor.
“There was a fire.”
I stopped.
“In her treatment wing?”
“Small one. After she died.”
“When?”
“Three weeks later.”
“Medical gas?”
“I don't know.”
Vincent did.
His expression told me.
“Say it.”
Vincent looked at Rafael.
“Investigators suspected an oxygen regulator.”
My skin went cold.
“How many people injured?”
“Four.”
“Report?”
“Sealed after settlement.”
Of course.
I sat back.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
My accident.
Isabella’s hospital.
Rafael’s ship.
Same supplier.
Same component.
Same silence.
“This is not random.”
Rafael’s voice hardened.
“No.”
I turned more pages.
A Harrow subsidiary had merged into Meridian five years ago.
Howard Grayson—the contractor who mocked me—had been a Harrow executive before becoming president of Meridian.
There it was.
“Grayson.”
Rafael's face went completely still.
“Vincent.”
“I’ll find him.”
“No.”
Both men looked at me.
“Do not send men to scare him.”
Rafael’s eyebrow lifted.
“You assume a lot.”
“I watched forty people stand at attention because you blinked.”
“Forty-two.”
“Not helping.”
Vincent hid a smile.
I continued.
“If Grayson knows what happened, frightening him makes him lawyer up or run. We need records.”
Rafael leaned back.
“We?”
I regretted the word.
“Yes.”
“You want involvement?”
“I want the truth.”
“That is involvement.”
He wasn't wrong.
My phone rang.
Eli.
I answered.
“Hey.”
“Someone is in the apartment.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“I heard the back window.”
I stood.
“Lock your bedroom.”
“I’m already in—”
A crash.
The line went silent.
“Eli?”
Nothing.
“Eli!”
Rafael was already on his feet despite the crutches.
I gave him the address.
He didn't ask why.
Vincent moved first.
Within seconds the room changed.
Phones.
Orders.
Cars.
I followed.
Rafael caught my arm.
Not hard.
I looked at his hand.
He released me immediately.
“You ride with me.”
“No.”
“Maeve.”
“You can't even walk.”
“I don't need to walk to make a car faster.”
Under any other circumstances I might have laughed.
We reached my apartment before police.
The back window was broken.
The living room had been torn apart.
Drawers dumped.
Cabinets open.
My sewing box lay on the floor.
Empty.
I ran to Eli’s room.
Locked.
“Eli!”
“Maeve?”
The door opened.
He was pale but unharmed.
I dropped to my knees beside his chair.
He grabbed me.
“They were looking for something.”
Behind me, Rafael entered slowly.
His eyes moved over the destruction.
Then to the open filing cabinet.
The old agreement was gone.
Nothing else valuable had been taken.
The television remained.
Laptop.
Cash jar.
Eli’s medication.
All untouched.
Only the settlement agreement was missing.
Rafael looked at me.
“They know you recognized the valve.”
I felt cold.
“No.”
“What?”
“They knew before the fire.”
He frowned.
I pointed toward the filing cabinet.
“This wasn't hidden after the ship burned.”
The lock had scratches around it.
Older scratches.
Someone had tried opening it before.
I remembered coming home weeks earlier and finding the cabinet slightly crooked against the wall.
I had blamed Eli’s wheelchair.
Someone had been searching my apartment before I ever stepped aboard the Isabella.
May you like
The ship inspection had not accidentally connected me to an old secret.
Someone already knew exactly who I was.
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