CHAPTER 5 Witness Number Seven
The bridal bouquet drifted lazily across the fountain.
Red roses.
White lilies.
And streaks of fresh blood that spread through the water like crimson ink.
Preston's missing titanium phone remained tied to the bouquet with a silver ribbon.
Its screen was still glowing.
No one touched it.
Officer Ryan raised a hand.
"Nobody goes near that phone."
A crime scene technician hurried forward, slipping on blue gloves before carefully lifting the bouquet from the fountain. Water dripped onto the stone path.
The screen hadn't locked.
The mysterious message was still visible.
L: This wedding was never the real target.
Ryan looked at Evelyn.
"Have you ever heard of anyone connected to your brother whose name starts with L?"
She thought for several seconds.
Then slowly shook her head.
"No."
Arthur didn't answer.
He was staring at the phone.
Too intensely.
Ryan noticed.
"You recognize something?"
Arthur hesitated.
"The titanium case."
"What about it?"
"It isn't commercially available."
Ryan frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Arthur pointed toward the edge of the phone.
"See those tiny grooves?"
"That's a prototype casing."
"It was designed by Preston Biomedical."
Evelyn looked confused.
"My brother's company makes medical equipment."
Arthur gave a humorless smile.
"Officially."
Seven Years Earlier
Project Lazarus had grown far beyond medicine.
Arthur had discovered entire divisions that never appeared in public financial reports.
Secure communications.
Military-grade encryption.
Biometric surveillance.
Prototype tracking devices.
Each hidden beneath the umbrella of "medical research."
One afternoon, Arthur accidentally entered the wrong laboratory.
Inside, engineers weren't building surgical tools.
They were assembling modified smartphones.
Phones capable of recording every conversation, tracking every movement, and remotely erasing themselves if compromised.
The project supervisor had caught Arthur looking.
He'd smiled politely.
Then asked him to forget what he'd seen.
Arthur never forgot.
Present Day
Ryan carefully turned the titanium phone over.
The back panel bore an almost invisible engraving.
LZ-07
Arthur's breathing quickened.
Ryan noticed.
"What does that mean?"
Arthur answered immediately.
"Lazarus."
"Prototype Seven."
Silence settled over the garden.
Evelyn looked from Arthur to Ryan.
"My brother carried one of those?"
Arthur nodded.
"He wasn't just funding Project Lazarus."
"He was testing it."
Ryan slipped the phone into an evidence bag.
"We'll have the cybercrime unit examine everything."
Arthur's face suddenly changed.
"No."
Ryan stopped.
"What?"
Arthur spoke quietly.
"If this really is Prototype Seven..."
"...opening it the wrong way could erase every file."
Ryan stared at him.
"How do you know?"
Arthur looked away.
"...Because I designed the security protocol."
Before Ryan could ask another question, one of the forensic technicians ran across the lawn.
"Officer!"
"We found blood."
Ryan followed him toward a narrow stone path behind the fountain.
Tiny crimson droplets stretched across the pavement.
Not enough for a major injury.
But enough to leave a trail.
The trail disappeared behind a row of decorative hedges.
Beyond them...
A service corridor.
One rarely used by hotel guests.
Ryan crouched.
The droplets were evenly spaced.
Whoever had been bleeding...
...had been walking.
Not dragged.
He continued following the trail.
Ten feet.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then it ended beside a heavy steel maintenance door.
The door stood slightly open.
Inside was darkness.
Ryan drew his weapon.
"Police!"
"No one move!"
No answer.
He pushed the door wider.
The room beyond housed electrical panels, plumbing controls, and storage shelves.
Empty.
Except for one chair.
A folding metal chair positioned directly beneath a ventilation duct.
On the chair sat a small digital voice recorder.
Its red recording light blinked steadily.
Ryan exchanged a glance with Arthur.
Then pressed Play.
Static.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then a woman's frightened voice filled the room.
Vanessa.
"If you're hearing this..."
"...I probably didn't make it out."
Evelyn felt a chill race through her body.
Vanessa continued speaking.
"Preston doesn't know I found the files."
"I copied everything."
"I thought I could expose him after the honeymoon."
"I was wrong."
Ryan's grip tightened around the recorder.
"There are names."
"Bank accounts."
"Payments."
"Medical reports."
"And one video..."
Vanessa's breathing became shaky.
"The video is why they're going to kill me."
Arthur whispered,
"What video...?"
The recording continued.
"It wasn't an accident."
"The little girl..."
"...Sophie..."
"...was never supposed to be framed."
Everyone froze.
Evelyn stepped closer.
"What?"
Vanessa's voice cracked.
"They were trying to frame..."
"...her mother."
The room fell completely silent.
Ryan frowned.
"Evelyn?"
Vanessa continued.
"The phone was supposed to be planted in Evelyn's purse."
"Not Sophie's jacket."
"Someone made a mistake."
Arthur looked stunned.
"So Sophie..."
"...was never the target."
Vanessa answered as though she could hear him.
"They panicked."
"When the wrong person was accused..."
"...Preston lost control."
Evelyn leaned against the wall.
Her knees suddenly felt weak.
All this time she'd believed her daughter had been chosen.
Instead...
Sophie had merely been standing in the wrong place.
The recorder clicked.
Then Vanessa spoke one final sentence.
"If anything happens to me..."
"...find Witness Number Seven."
The recording ended.
Ryan looked around.
"Who is Witness Number Seven?"
Nobody answered.
Not Arthur.
Not Nathan.
Not Evelyn.
Because none of them knew.
At that exact moment...
Forty miles outside Chicago...
A black helicopter landed beside an abandoned warehouse.
Its rotors slowed.
A tall man stepped out wearing a charcoal-gray suit.
No insignia.
No jewelry.
No expression.
Inside the warehouse, several armed men stood waiting.
One of them approached nervously.
"Sir..."
"The IT director is dead."
The man nodded once.
"And Vanessa?"
"We've lost visual contact."
Another pause.
"And the memory card?"
The armed man swallowed.
"We haven't recovered it."
For the first time, the stranger's face showed emotion.
Disappointment.
Not anger.
Just quiet disappointment.
He spoke only four words.
"Then activate Number Seven."
Every armed guard in the warehouse lowered their eyes.
None of them argued.
None of them asked questions.
Because everyone in that room knew exactly what "Number Seven" meant.
Everyone...
May you like
Except the people desperately trying to survive inside the Grand Wellington Hotel.
End of Chapter Five
