Chapter 4 - Smoke and Mirrors
The dark night sky over Selma was stained with thick, suffocating plumes of black smoke.
Three fire engines sat with flashing red lights outside the Central Warehouse of Anderson Harvest Group. Firefighters were dragging heavy hoses through the shattered glass doors, spraying jets of water into the burning administrative wing.
Victor’s pickup truck slammed to a halt near the perimeter tape.
Victor and Taylor bolted out of the truck, running toward the burning building.
Richard Sterling stood near the emergency command vehicle, wrapped in a yellow blanket, coughing softly into a handkerchief while talking to a police detective.
“What happened?!” Victor demanded, stepping between Richard and the detective.
“It appears to be an electrical short in the server rack, Victor,” Richard said smoothly, shaking his head with a sorrowful expression. “Tragic... absolutely tragic. The entire paper archive for the last five years was stored in that room. Everything burned.”
Taylor stood behind Victor, her eyes narrowed as she watched Richard’s face. She looked at the ground near the server room window. The glass was shattered, but the pieces lay outside on the gravel—meaning the window had been broken from the inside out before the fire started.
Furthermore, there was no smell of burning plastic or insulation—only the distinct, acrid scent of kerosene.
Arson. They were destroying the physical paper records to cover up the missing four point two million dollars before Taylor could audit them.
“Were there any casualties?” Victor asked the fire chief.
“No, sir,” the chief reported. “The night maintenance crew was out on lunch. But the room is a total loss. Every document in there is ash.”
Richard placed a comforting hand on Victor’s shoulder. “I know it’s a terrible blow, Victor. But don't worry. My department will handle the insurance claims. We’ll rebuild the records digitally over the next few months.”
Taylor stepped forward, her voice calm and remarkably clear over the roar of the fire engines.
“That won't be necessary, Mr. Sterling.”
Richard turned, glaring at Taylor with sudden, ice-cold hatred. “Miss Nelson, this is an executive crisis. Return to your bus.”
“Actually, Mr. Sterling,” Taylor said, looking him dead in the eye, “Anderson Harvest Group digitized all physical paper archives three years ago under Robert Anderson’s modern initiative. The physical paper in that room was just backup duplicates.”
Richard’s face went entirely white. His hand dropped from Victor’s shoulder.
“The main encrypted cloud servers aren't located in this building,” Taylor continued, taking a step closer to Richard. “They’re hosted in a secure facility in downtown Los Angeles. And I backed up the entire distribution ledger to an external drive at three o'clock this afternoon.”
Victor looked at Taylor, a proud, lethal smirk touching his lips. He turned back to Richard Sterling, whose eyes were wide with rising panic.
“It seems your electrical short was entirely pointless, Richard,” Victor said coldly, stepping right into the older man’s personal space. “My special investigator already has everything we need.”
Richard looked at Taylor—the woman whose clothes he had mocked, the temp he had dismissed as gutter trash—and realized with horrifying clarity that she had played him like a violin.
“You...” Richard hissed, his voice trembling with fury.
“Get off my property, Richard,” Victor commanded, his voice echoing like thunder across the wet pavement. “You are suspended effective immediately. If you set foot on any Anderson facility before tomorrow morning’s board meeting, I will have you arrested for criminal trespassing.”
Richard stared at Victor, then at Taylor, before turning silently and walking away into the dark, smoke-filled night.
Victor turned to Taylor, catching her hand in his. “Are you okay?”
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“I’m fine,” Taylor said, her heart pounding with adrenaline. “But tomorrow at the board meeting, they will try to destroy you, Victor. They have power, money, and media connections. We need absolute proof before eight AM.”
“Then we have six hours,” Victor said, pulling her toward his truck. “Let's go to work.”
