Chapter 10 - THE RED COMPASS
Zara did not know whether her trick would work.
She only knew she had one.
Mercer had taken her phone.
He had missed her watch.
Not because it was hidden.
Because it looked cheap.
Her father had insisted she wear the basic black travel watch instead of anything expensive.
It had limited connectivity.
But it could pair with nearby authorized Coleman devices if one appeared.
That had seemed useless until Zara noticed the laptop in the warehouse office.
A Coleman Atlantic asset sticker sat beneath the screen.
Old.
Partially scratched off.
But visible.
Someone had stolen or diverted company equipment.
When Mercer left the room, Zara moved her wrist close enough to trigger a pairing handshake.
Three seconds.
Maybe less.
She had no idea whether it transmitted anything meaningful.
Then the laptop went dark.
Mercer returned.
“Stand up.”
Zara looked at him.
“Why?”
“We’re moving.”
That meant something had changed.
“Did my dad say no?”
Mercer grabbed the sheet of paper.
“Stand.”
Zara did.
He led her out.
Two men were loading equipment into cases.
The camera.
Laptop.
Documents.
Panic without shouting.
Zara looked toward a loading door.
Red compass logo.
Meridian.
She memorized it.
Mercer noticed where she was looking.
“Eyes forward.”
“You’re scared.”
He grabbed her arm.
Not hard enough to injure.
Hard enough to warn.
“You have no idea what you’re involved in.”
“I think I do.”
“No. You think this is a story about a rude man in your seat.”
“It started there.”
“It started years before you were born.”
That stopped her.
Mercer realized he had said too much.
Zara kept her voice calm.
“What did?”
He pushed her toward a side corridor.
“Move.”
Sirens sounded faintly outside.
Everyone froze.
Mercer’s face changed.
One of the men swore.
“Police?”
Mercer released Zara.
“How?”
Nobody answered.
The sirens grew louder.
Mercer pointed toward a rear door.
“Vehicle two. Now.”
The men moved.
Zara did not.
Mercer turned.
“Move.”
She stepped backward.
“Zara.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“You think they’re here for you?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
A loudspeaker outside announced police presence.
Mercer cursed.
Then ran toward Zara.
She grabbed a metal chair and shoved it between them.
He stumbled.
Zara ran.
Not toward the main door.
Too obvious.
She ran between two rows of shipping containers.
Footsteps followed.
“Zara!”
She turned left.
A forklift blocked the path.
She ducked beneath its raised forks and kept going.
Mercer was faster.
Much faster.
She heard him closing the distance.
A door ahead.
Zara pushed it.
Locked.
She turned.
Mercer stood twenty feet away.
Breathing hard.
“Enough.”
Zara backed against the door.
“You’re not getting out.”
“Maybe not.”
He approached.
“But neither are you.”
He reached for her.
A tremendous bang sounded behind Zara.
The locked door shook.
Then another.
Police breached from the other side.
Mercer turned.
Zara dropped to the floor.
The door burst inward.
Officers entered.
Commands filled the corridor.
Mercer raised his hands.
For one second, Zara saw the friendly passenger again.
Calm.
Ordinary.
Harmless-looking.
Then an officer forced him to his knees.
Another reached Zara.
“Are you Zara Coleman?”
She nodded.
Her voice did not work.
“You’re safe.”
That was when she started shaking.
Not before.
After.
When there was finally room to be afraid.
At 11:18 a.m. New York time, Marcus received the call.
“We have her.”
He sat down.
Naomi put a hand over her mouth.
Marcus did not speak for several seconds.
“Is she hurt?”
“No visible injuries.”
“Let me talk to her.”
A pause.
Then Zara’s voice.
“Dad?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Hi, Z.”
She started crying.
So did he.
Neither mentioned it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No.”
“I left the room.”
Marcus opened his eyes.
“What?”
“They told me you had sent someone.”
His stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
A man wearing a Coleman Atlantic maintenance jacket had come to the conference room door.
He knew the security code phrase.
He told Zara there was an immediate relocation.
She followed him through a staff corridor.
Only when they reached the loading level did she realize neither of her assigned security officers was present.
By then, Mercer was waiting.
Marcus listened.
The code phrase.
Internal.
Again.
Somebody inside the company had given it away.
“You did nothing wrong,” Marcus said.
“I should’ve checked.”
“You are fourteen.”
“You always say verify.”
“And I’m saying this now.”
Marcus leaned toward the screen.
“The adults responsible for keeping you safe failed. You did not.”
Zara wiped her face.
“Did you withdraw the evidence?”
“No.”
“I told Mercer you wouldn’t.”
“You know me.”
“He said you chose the company over me.”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“No.”
Zara looked confused.
“I chose both.”
“How?”
“Because giving criminals what they want does not guarantee they return the person they took.”
Zara nodded slowly.
Behind her, police moved through the warehouse.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Mercer said this started years before I was born.”
Marcus frowned.
“Exact words?”
“Yes.”
The same question he always asked her.
She almost smiled.
Marcus looked toward Naomi.
“Years before Zara was born.”
Naomi was already thinking.
Coleman Atlantic had existed for decades.
Bennett’s relationship with the company?
Older than Marcus’s leadership?
Marcus remembered his father.
An old board fight.
A financing offer rejected fifteen years earlier.
He stood.
“Find every Bennett contact with Coleman Atlantic before I became CEO.”
Naomi searched.
The oldest file appeared from sixteen years earlier.
A proposed capital partnership.
Bennett Strategic Holdings.
Rejected by Marcus’s father, David Coleman.
Attached was a handwritten note.
Marcus recognized his father’s writing immediately.
Do not let Bennett inside this company. He is not buying shares. He is buying pressure points.
Marcus stared at the sentence.
His father had known.
Then Naomi opened the next page.
A memorandum named Bennett’s junior adviser on the failed transaction.
May you like
A man then only twenty-eight years old.
Stephen Cole.
