Chapter 10 — One Long Ear, One Short

The cargo ship rose out of the water like a building with no lights in its windows.

Our launch slowed alongside it.

Above us, a man leaned over the railing.

“Hands where I can see them.”

Jericho lifted the ledger.

“I have what she asked for.”

A ladder rattled against the hull.

He turned to me.

“Let me go first.”

I waited until he reached the deck, then followed.

At the top, a hand seized my arm and pulled me over the railing. I stumbled, catching myself against a metal storage box.

The man searched my bag.

He found my notebook, the account documents, and Rosie’s folded paper rabbit.

He held it up.

“What’s this?”

“Paper.”

He dropped it onto the wet deck.

I bent to retrieve it.

His hand closed around the back of my jacket.

“Keep moving.”

Jericho stepped toward him.

“Take your hand off her.”

The man looked at his face.

Then released me.

I picked up the rabbit and followed them toward the stairs.

At the bridge entrance, Vane waited with a pistol held low beside his leg.

Without his clinic clothes, he looked ordinary.

That offended me more than it should have.

Years of fear, and he was simply a man in a gray shirt.

“Lennox,” he said.

“You can call me Miss Pierce.”

His smile disappeared.

He searched Jericho, taking his phone and the small knife concealed beneath his belt.

Then he opened the door.

Rosie sat beside the main console.

Her wrists were free now, but Vane moved behind her before we could reach her.

“Daddy.”

Jericho stopped.

I could see what stopping cost him.

Celeste stood at the terminal wearing a cream-colored blouse and dark trousers. Her hair was neatly tied back.

She might have been preparing for a business meeting.

“You’re late.”

“You changed the coordinates,” Jericho said.

“You found them.”

Her eyes moved to the ledger.

“Put it down.”

He placed it on a narrow chart table.

I looked at Rosie.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

She stared at the lump in my jacket pocket.

I drew out the paper rabbit just far enough for her to see one bent ear.

A small breath left her.

Celeste noticed.

“Enough. We have work to do.”

I approached the terminal.

Beside it, a glass partition separated a small equipment alcove from the main bridge. Rosie’s chair stood near its opening.

The red emergency handle was on the wall within her reach.

I made myself look away.

Celeste tapped the screen.

“Restore the authorization.”

“I need to see the account identifier.”

“It’s already open.”

“I need to verify it.”

She folded her arms.

I checked the number against the documents.

The account structure was familiar beneath the newer interface.

Celeste had kept the old recovery pathway.

The one she couldn’t replace without losing the access she wanted.

I set my documents beside the keyboard.

“Where’s the external verification device?”

She pointed to a scanner.

I placed my hand on it.

The first prompt appeared.

Name.

Original authorization.

Confirmation of identity.

I entered Nora Vale.

For the first time in five years, the name opened something instead of endangering me.

The terminal requested voice confirmation.

I spoke clearly.

The camera above the screen blinked.

Celeste watched me, recording the performance she intended to call consent.

“Look at the camera,” she said.

“No. I need to read the next prompt.”

She stepped closer.

Behind me, Rosie shifted in her chair.

Vane’s voice hardened.

“Sit still.”

I kept my hands on the desk.

The system began checking the recovered authorization.

A progress indicator moved slowly.

“Why is it taking so long?” Celeste asked.

“Because this credential hasn’t been used in five years.”

“You said there might be a delay.”

“And you agreed to let me work.”

Jericho moved one step toward the chart table.

Vane raised the pistol.

“Stay there.”

Jericho stopped with the table between him and Rosie.

I noticed his hand settle near the ledger.

Celeste hadn’t opened it.

She was too busy watching the screen.

A new prompt appeared.

Review recovered access.

I read the account summary.

Six hundred and forty million dollars.

I had expected a large number.

Seeing it still made me pause.

Celeste saw my reaction.

“Now you understand.”

“I understand why you kept watching me.”

“It would have been wasteful to lose you.”

“You could have asked.”

She laughed.

“You would have asked where the money came from.”

“Yes.”

“And then you would have tried to help someone.”

“Yes.”

She leaned nearer.

“That was always your problem.”

I looked at Rosie.

Her feet were tucked beneath the chair, ready to move.

She wasn’t looking at her mother.

She was looking at me.

The terminal accepted the recovered authorization.

A second status line appeared beneath it.

Verification pending.

Celeste pointed.

“What does that mean?”

“The provider has to confirm the recovery.”

“Then contact them.”

“It’s already happening.”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.

From outside came the sound of an engine starting.

The smaller boat.

Her exit was preparing.

I kept my voice level.

“If you leave before this completes, you’ll have to start again.”

She looked toward the bridge door.

Then at the balance.

She stayed.

Jericho spoke.

“Let Rosie come to me.”

“No.”

“You have Nora. You have the ledger.”

“And I still have you.”

Rosie lifted one hand.

Two fingers beside her head.

One straight.

One bent.

Rabbit ears.

My eyes moved to hers.

She looked toward Vane.

Then down.

The gesture wasn’t part of our written alphabet.

It was something simpler.

Long ear.

Short ear.

Tall.

Small.

Get down.

I pushed my chair backward and dropped.

Vane swung his pistol toward me.

Jericho threw the ledger into his arm.

The shot struck the terminal casing.

Rosie slid beneath the console.

Jericho crossed the space before Vane could recover, driving him against the wall. The pistol fell, skidding toward my feet.

I kicked it under the equipment cabinet.

Celeste reached beneath the desk.

I seized the chair and shoved it between us.

She staggered back.

An alarm sounded overhead.

Not from the terminal.

From somewhere on deck.

Vane struggled beneath Jericho, clawing at his injured arm.

Jericho’s face tightened.

He struck Vane once, hard enough to stop him fighting, and forced his hands behind his back.

The bridge door shook.

A man outside shouted.

I crawled toward Rosie.

“Come here.”

She reached for me.

On the terminal, the account summary vanished.

A new message replaced it.

Access restricted.

Transfer suspended.

Celeste saw it.

“No.”

She hit the keyboard.

“No.”

The bridge door shook again.

I could hear more than one engine outside now.

Commands over a loudspeaker.

Celeste turned toward me.

“What did you do?”

“The provider knows I’m being forced.”

“You authorized it.”

“I authorized my identity. Not your transfer.”

“You think they’ll believe you?”

“They already have the video Rosie made.”

For the first time, her attention went to her daughter.

Rosie gripped my hand.

Celeste’s face emptied.

“The card.”

I said nothing.

“You little—”

Jericho stood, leaving Vane motionless against the wall.

“Don’t speak to her.”

Celeste pulled a pistol from behind the terminal.

He stopped.

I drew Rosie toward the opening of the equipment alcove.

Celeste tracked me with the gun.

“You had one useful quality, Nora.”

I put myself between her and the child.

“Rosie,” I whispered. “Behind me.”

Celeste steadied her arm.

At my side, Rosie stretched toward the red handle.