Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
M arise sat on the edge of the bed, one foot tucked under the other, staring out at the morning skyline. Her apartment was silent, disconcerting after the cabin, for there was always a hum of birdsong in the distance.
She thought about the theft of Kathleen’s work.
It wasn’t so much that someone had stolen her life research, it was more that someone close had probably done it.
Her phone buzzed beside her and she reached over and checked the ID: Kathleen. She picked it up, immediately straightening. “Hey.”
“I saw Edith,” Kathleen said with a little hitch in her voice.
Marise went still. “How did it go?”
“We had a long talk about it. She said she didn’t do it,” a pause, “and I believed her.”
Marise relaxed. She hoped for Kathleen’s sake that her friend and mentor hadn’t betrayed her trust. “You’re sure?”
“I am. As she pointed out, I will know soon enough who it was when I lodge a complaint and if she’d done something like that, her reputation would be ruined. She offered to help. She’ll give a testimonial to support my patent claim and back me if it comes to a dispute.”
“Great. Coming from such an esteemed academic will lend a lot of weight to your argument and will protect your good name. How did she take it.”
“She was devastated. Angry that the crime had been committed, but disappointed that I could think she’d do something like that. I could tell it hit her hard.”
“I’m glad you talked to her,” Marise said. “You needed to know for your own peace of mind.”
“I did and I’m glad I was wrong.” Another pause. “Have you… found anything else?”
“Not yet,” Marise said. “But I’ve been thinking. Whoever did this, had access to the internal systems. I want to double-check the cleaning firm. It’s a long shot, but someone might’ve used them as a way in.”
“You think Com Co’s involved?”
“I think they might’ve been used. I’m going in to check.”
Kathleen hesitated. “Be careful. I don’t want you getting dragged into this.”
Marise gave a low laugh. “Too late for that.”
“I know. Still… thank you.”
“I’ll let you know what I find,” Marise said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Kath. No matter how deep it goes.”
“I believe you,” Kathleen said. “I ring later…I miss you already.”
“Me too,” Marise said. She tapped off the phone and walked to her bedroom closet.
It was time to bring Lauren Manley back out.
Marise sat down at her desk and once she opened a blank report template, began to type.
The header came first—official looking, with the crest of the fabricated Occupational Safety and Health Administration she had used before.
Then she wrote out an audit report praising the high standard of their staff member, Mrs Lena Forde.
She ticked off numerous work place sites and actions.
Then she wrote another form, inserted a fabricated case ID, and titled it: Preliminary Field Review: Laboratory Cleaning Contractors – Incident Notification (Confidential)
Beneath that, she began populating the fields in clipped bureaucratic language:
Following the reported theft of high-value research data from a restricted access laboratory in the Atlantic Research Institute, it has come to the attention of the department that the facility’s cleaning contractor may have been present during the period in question.
No direct fault or negligence has been indicated.
This field audit is intended to close off due diligence loops concerning privacy, access, and protocol integrity.
She added a fake appendix, a reference to ISO standards, and signed it off as “L. Manley–Occupational Safety and Health Officer.”
It was perfect. Dull, meticulous, and threatening enough to compel cooperation without legal resistance.
She uploaded it to a dummy tablet and printed out a physical copy for effect.
After slipping it into a slim file folder, she packed her ID badge, applied minimal makeup, a plain blazer, and her glasses slightly smudged to add to the effect.
She didn’t want to look clever. She wanted to look like she worked in fluorescent lighting and ate lunch out of vending machines.
By the time she stepped into the Com Co office building an hour later, she was every inch the overworked compliance officer with a clipboard and a polite face.
The receptionist—thankfully the same distracted young man—looked up with vague recognition.
“Lauren Manley, Occupational Safety and Health,” she said crisply, flashing the badge and the audit folder. “I wish to speak to Mrs Hill.”
He blinked and glanced around. “I thought the audit was last week?”
“I’m here to report my finding,” Marise said.
“Of course.” He buzzed the inner door and gestured. “She’s in her office.”
Ellen Hill looked up as Marise entered, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Ms Manley.”
“Ms Hill,” Marise said pleasantly, placing the folder on the desk between them. “I wanted to commend your team. The site audit from last week was excellent—no issues with your staff logs, no irregularities with shift entries.”
Ellen nodded, looking pleased. “That’s good to hear.”
“The follow-up does have a privacy issue. There’s been a formal allegation of potential data theft from one of the labs that you service. I have to ask a few questions.”
Ellen looked concerned. “Which client?”
“Dr Kathleen Knowles’ laboratory in the Atlantic Research Institute.”
“Oh, Lena Forde’s area.”
“Yes. I found her very conscious of security.”
“She’s a senior staff member. She’s been with us for years and never had a single violation mark against her.”
“Has Lena ever reported letting someone into the facility during a shift? A delivery person, lost staffer, someone from building maintenance?”
“No,” Ellen said, “and she’s been told never to. We drilled that into all our staff on lab contracts. She signs the security log each time she finishes. No incidents.”
“Would she report it if she had?”
“Yes. She’s conscientious.”
Marise nodded and jotted a note. “Would you be willing to contact her today and confirm she hasn’t deviated from procedure? Or if she’s had any unusual interactions at the Institute recently?”
Ellen didn’t hesitate. “I’ll contact her after two. She sleeps in the morning after the night shift.”
“An email confirmation will suffice then. I’ll attach the contact point in the follow-up paperwork.”
“Fine,” Ellen said, “I can vouch for Lena. She wouldn’t let anyone in.”
Marise nodded. “That’s what I expected to find. Thank you for your cooperation.”
She stood, gathered the file, and left the office without looking back.
Once in her car, Marise sat thinking. If Ellen was right and Lena was clean, they were back to square one. She needed to start digging.
As soon as she returned to her apartment, she made a cup of coffee then opened her laptop. If Lena and Edith were innocent, and her gut feeling told her they were, then she’d have to find out who EW was.
She typed ‘EW Enterprises + New York’ into a private browser. Three hits popped up. An engineering firm in Buffalo, a shipping startup and a clothing line. She narrowed the search parameters: limited liability, scientific patents, filed in the last month.
Nothing.
She tried again, searching the patent database for the entity's registration. Still nothing. Whoever had filed the paperwork had done it through a shell. Probably a legal intermediary in Delaware or the Caymans. They knew how to cover their tracks.
After two hours, she slammed her laptop shut, totally frustrated.
It was time to call Lapwing.
She used the encrypted line, typing a single ping into the message client: Need eyes. EW Enterprises. Urgent. Possible shell.
It took three minutes before the screen pinged to life.
LAPWING: Busy evening. What you offering?
MARISE: Double fee. Someone's running an IP scam off stolen energy tech. Serious stuff. She sent off a copy of Kathleen’s letter regarding the patent claim.
LAPWING: Now you have my attention. Hold. Tracing...
She watched the text window fill with rapid-fire queries and code. Lapwing was routing through three overseas ports and into obfuscated ownership registries.
LAPWING: EW Enterprises LLC. Registered in BVI through two layers. Payment trail leads to an anonymous fund in Zurich.
LAPWING: Nothing unusual yet. But...
Another pause.
LAPWING: There's a listing on D-Sink. Hidden node auction. High-stakes, closed network. Black-tagged assets labelled "Project Florabite."
Marise's blood ran cold. Ted said that was the code name for the energy plants .
MARISE: Florabite is the name of Knowles’ research.
LAPWING: Figured. Auction has proprietary tech bundles, genetic data, energy harvest diagrams. Nothing she would've published.
MARISE: Can you trace the upload point?
LAPWING: Already trying. Encryption is dense. Seller's masked with cascade proxies. But the wallet is traceable.
It was slow work. Twenty minutes passed. Lapwing sent fragments as he pried open blocks of anonymized code and rerouted through compromised nodes in Eastern Europe.
LAPWING: Bingo. Wallet pinged to a drop shell in NY. Used by high-value traders. But guess what? I traced a funding trail.
Marise leaned forward, staring at the screen.
LAPWING: Offshore account in the Bahamas. Deposits routed monthly. Used a firm registered to a woman named Darlene Hunt.
MARISE: Darlene Hunt. Are you sure?
LAPWING: Positive. Last transfer was two days before the auction listing went live. Amount: $150,000. Memo line blank.
Marise stood slowly, letting it settle in. Darlene Hunt. The woman who had met her eyes over lunch like she was a commodity, bought and paid for.
Edith’s friend was the thief.
The patent was a red herring. Darlene never expected to win that in court—she’d filed it to buy time, to muddy the waters while she set up something far more lucrative.
The real plan was always the auction. With the data exposed, international bidders circled while Kathleen was distracted by legal chaos, leaving Darlene to profit in silence.
Shit. Big corporations would pay a fortune for the intel.
They’d set up their own scientists and reap millions from Kathleen’s hard work.
The bastards!
MARISE: Copy everything. Freeze the wallet if you can. We go deeper tomorrow.
LAPWING: Already ghosting the node. Be careful, Lark. Whoever’s doing this plays for keeps. It’s big wigs we’re talking about.
Marise logged off and leaned back in her chair. The glow of the screen took her eye, but her mind was elsewhere, trying to solve the problem.
If she went after Darlene too hard, too fast, the woman would vanish. With her contacts, her wealth, and the false identities she clearly trafficked in, she could disappear in a matter of hours.
Marise drummed her fingers against the table.
She needed to take Darlene down before the auction was concluded. Once she got her money she would vanish back to Dubai and Kathleen’s notes and equations would be out of their reach.
They had to get Darlene out in the open. Get the Feds involved and a confession before she left the country.
Marise stared out the window, an idea forming.
If it worked, she could bring her down, but it would wreck any hope she had for a life with Kathleen.