Chapter 1 - Fifteen Minutes to Lose Everything
“Fifteen minutes,” Roman said, and the words landed on the mahogany table like a judge’s sentence.
Autumn Rivers kept her eyes on the laptop. The transfer indicator showed eighteen percent, but the little green bar was telling a dangerously incomplete story. The drive supplied by the investors could hold the recovered material; it could not make a damaged computer trustworthy. A file that copied successfully might still be infected. She needed to separate the evidence from the business records, preserve the original storage device, and stop Dominic Kaine’s consultant from touching either.
“Take your hands away from the power cable,” she said.
The consultant, Peter Voss, stiffened. “I am the professional here.”
“Then act like one. Nobody pulls anything until we make an inventory.”
Across the table, Elaine Lau, the lead investor, closed her leather portfolio. “Mr. Kaine, this is not a movie. We cannot sign a nine-hundred-million-dollar agreement because a waitress says a green bar looks promising.”
“She is right,” Autumn said. The room turned toward her. Her voice felt exposed, but she continued. “You shouldn’t sign. Not until somebody independent verifies these records. Your money and his security are both at risk.”
Dominic studied her. Roman looked offended on his behalf. Autumn expected the same threat Dominic had made when he offered her thirty minutes: failure meant she would never leave the building. Instead, Dominic asked, “What can you save in the time we have?”
“The information that tells us who touched the system. The deal can wait.”
Elaine watched him carefully. “That is the first sensible thing anyone has said this afternoon.”
Autumn copied a limited set of logs to the isolated drive and recorded their details in the notebook borrowed from a waiter. The remaining files would be preserved for a qualified forensic team. She refused to connect the laptop to the restaurant network again. Peter complained loudly about losing access, then went quiet when she asked him why his consultant account had opened an outgoing connection thirty seconds before the crash.
“I was checking the backup,” he said.
“Then you won’t mind an investigator checking that.”
At the far end of the room, Adrien Cross sat between two security men. His shoulders sagged. He had admitted accepting money from Angelo Rossi to install the malicious file, but the evidence showed only that his credentials had been used. Autumn knew how much damage a convenient accusation could do. Seven years ago, MIT had expelled her because a log carried her username. She was not going to make the same mistake simply because Cross had confessed under pressure.
“Did you actually upload it?” she asked him.
Cross stared. “I put a file where they told me to. I didn’t write the program.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“A courier. Gray envelope. No name.”
Dominic leaned forward. “And you chose not to mention that detail?”
“I thought it stopped mattering when I admitted what I did.”
“It matters,” Autumn said. “Somebody built this. Somebody timed it. And somebody made sure you were the easiest person to blame.”
Roman stepped beside her chair. “Don’t turn our traitor into a victim.”
“I didn’t. I’m trying to find the person still in charge.”
The drive finished copying the selected records. Autumn checked that the files could be read without launching any of the compromised programs. The room had gone so quiet she heard a fork hit a plate outside. She disconnected the clean evidence drive, placed it on a napkin, and slid it toward Elaine.
“You supplied it. You can keep it sealed until everyone agrees on independent custody.”
Elaine’s translator took a half step toward the table; Elaine raised her hand. “I speak English, and I understand her perfectly. Ms. Rivers, do you have an attorney?”
“No.”
“Get one before you explain anything else.”
Dominic gave a dry laugh. “Are you offering legal advice?”
“I am offering common sense. Your employee has just made herself indispensable to a room full of people who do not deserve her trust.”
“I’m not his employee,” Autumn said. “I work for the restaurant.”
The distinction mattered so much that she said it again when Dominic offered to triple her salary. He could pay Giovanni for the ruined meal, but he could not buy her silence, her code, or a second chance at the life she lost. She had come upstairs carrying steaks. She intended to go back downstairs as herself.
Elaine postponed the agreement and left with her counsel. Dominic ordered Roman to preserve the room and keep Cross from leaving until authorities could take his statement. Autumn was surprised by the mention of authorities. Dominic caught the look.
“If somebody stole my business files, they can sell them to every enemy I have. I need proof that will stand somewhere other than this dining room.”
“That includes the files you use to blackmail people?” she asked.
Nobody spoke. Dominic’s face hardened. “You’ve seen enough.”
“Enough to know your computer wasn’t the only thing broken.”
She picked up her tray, then heard a sharp chime from the laptop. The machine was disconnected from the network, but a local message had been scheduled to appear after the recovery process ended. Against a black background were four words: HELLO AGAIN, AUTUMN RIVERS.
Underneath was a photograph of her younger brother, Ben, standing outside their apartment that morning. Ben was nineteen, thin from years of medical complications, and wearing the green jacket she had repaired twice. A red circle had been drawn around his face.
Autumn set the tray down so carefully that nobody noticed her hands were shaking.
Dominic saw the photograph. “Who is that?”
“My brother.” She tried his number. Voicemail. She called again. No answer.
A third call came through from Ben’s phone. Autumn accepted it at once.
A stranger said, pleasantly, “You fixed the wrong machine, Miss Rivers.”
May you like
Then Ben spoke, breathless and frightened. “Autumn? Don’t come home. They’re in the stairwell.”
The line went dead.
