Chapter 8 - Beneath E-17
Camille arrived in Marseille before dawn.
She brought Morel.
Julian.
Two private security officers.
And, despite her objections, Étienne.
Victoire remained in Paris under protection.
The eastern warehouse stood abandoned behind construction fencing.
Rain beat against the corrugated roof.
The Azure Crown site stretched around it.
Future towers.
Luxury retail.
A marina.
Hundreds of millions in projected value.
All of it, Camille now realized, could be camouflage.
They entered through a side door.
The warehouse smelled of rust and seawater.
Morel examined the floor.
“Someone has been working here.”
Fresh tire marks crossed the concrete.
Julian pointed toward stacks of construction material.
“They were moved recently.”
They cleared several panels.
Beneath them was a steel hatch.
Étienne stared.
“I have owned this property for twenty-two years.”
“And never knew this was here?” Camille asked.
“No.”
Morel crouched beside the hatch.
New bolts.
Old steel.
Someone had opened it recently.
He forced the lock.
Cold air rose from below.
A narrow staircase descended underground.
Camille switched on a flashlight.
Morel blocked her.
“I go first.”
She almost argued.
Then remembered the church.
“Fine.”
They descended.
The staircase ended in a concrete corridor.
Old banking symbols remained on the walls.
French.
German.
Swiss.
Julian stared.
“This was a vault facility.”
They reached a sealed steel door.
The lock had been drilled.
Inside were rows of empty compartments.
Most had been stripped decades earlier.
At the far wall sat a large cabinet.
Camille approached.
One drawer remained locked.
Morel examined it.
“No explosives.”
Étienne smiled bitterly.
“Comforting.”
They opened the drawer.
Inside was not a registry.
Only a leather notebook.
Camille opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Numbers.
Most from the 1940s.
Then something newer.
Entries from the 1990s.
2000s.
Her father’s name.
Camille froze.
Julian leaned closer.
“What is that?”
A note beside Laurent read.
ACCESS VERIFIED.
2009.
Three years before his death.
Below it.
MOREL EMBEDDED.
2010.
And farther down.
MARCHAND CONTACTED.
2011.
Camille looked at Morel.
Then toward the staircase.
Bernard’s name.
Not proof of betrayal.
But enough to reopen every question.
Étienne pointed lower on the page.
A final entry.
LAURENT COMPROMISED.
REMOVAL AUTHORIZED.
2012.
The year her father died.
Camille’s hands began shaking.
Morel gently took the notebook.
“Camille.”
“No.”
She pulled it back.
“This is evidence.”
“Yes.”
“He was murdered because of this.”
“Yes.”
A sound echoed through the corridor.
Metal.
Morel immediately shut off his flashlight.
Everyone did the same.
Footsteps above.
Several.
Security officers raised weapons.
Camille whispered.
“Back exit?”
Morel shook his head.
“Unknown.”
The warehouse door slammed.
Then a voice came through the stairwell.
“Ms. Laurent.”
Henri Voss.
Camille recognized him from interviews.
Controlled.
Educated.
Cold.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
Morel motioned everyone deeper into the vault.
Voss continued.
“Your father made the same mistake.”
Camille stopped.
Morel grabbed her arm.
She pulled free.
“I want him talking.”
“Camille.”
“He admitted involvement.”
“Into an empty stairwell.”
Camille activated her phone recorder.
Then shouted.
“You killed my father?”
Voss laughed.
“No.”
She looked at Morel.
Voss continued.
“Your father killed himself the moment he decided truth was more valuable than survival.”
Camille’s jaw tightened.
“Who authorized his murder?”
Silence.
Then Voss said.
“Ask Bernard.”
Camille’s face went cold.
Morel whispered.
“He wants you divided.”
Maybe.
But the notebook already contained Bernard’s name.
Voss continued.
“Bernard Marchand knew your father had become dangerous.”
Camille raised her voice.
“Dangerous to whom?”
“To everyone.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your father discovered that the registry underneath E-17 was not historical.”
Julian looked at Camille.
Voss continued.
“It was still active.”
Camille stared at the notebook.
Modern entries.
Active records.
Not relics.
A live ledger.
Voss’s voice became almost gentle.
“Governments.
Banks.
Families.
Companies.
People still pay for anonymity.”
Camille felt the full scale of it.
“What you found is only an index.”
The notebook.
Not the registry itself.
“Where is the real ledger?”
Voss laughed.
“Your father knew.”
Morel suddenly looked toward the rear wall.
He remembered something.
Camille saw it.
“What?”
Morel shook his head.
Voss continued speaking.
“And now Bernard knows too.”
Gunfire erupted above.
The private security officers returned fire.
Morel grabbed Camille.
“Move.”
They ran deeper into the vault.
Julian discovered a maintenance passage.
They forced it open.
The tunnel led beneath the property.
Behind them, Voss’s men entered the underground corridor.
Camille clutched the notebook.
They ran through darkness.
After two hundred yards, the passage divided.
Morel stopped.
“Left.”
“How do you know?” Camille demanded.
No answer.
“Luc.”
He looked at her.
“Because I’ve been here before.”
Camille froze.
“When?”
“With your father.”
Morel turned left.
They followed.
The tunnel emerged near the old harbor.
A vehicle waited.
They climbed inside.
Camille looked at Morel.
“You knew about the vault.”
“Yes.”
“You knew the notebook might be there.”
“No.”
“What did my father find?”
Morel remained silent.
Camille grabbed his coat.
“No more lies.”
He finally looked at her.
“Your father found the real registry.”
“Where is it?”
“He removed it from E-17 before Vesper could reach it.”
“Where did he put it?”
May you like
Morel’s answer stunned her.
“He gave it to Bernard Marchand.”
