Chapter 7 - The Favor He Asked
Walter contacted me through an attorney that afternoon.
Not Samuel.
A new attorney.
That alone told me how frightened he had become.
The message was simple.
Mr. Hayes requests a private meeting with his daughter concerning matters that may affect national security and the Hayes family.
I nearly refused.
Agent Bell advised against meeting alone.
So Walter and I sat opposite each other inside a conference room at his attorney’s office while my lawyer, Rachel Kim, waited behind the glass partition outside.
Walter looked older than he had three days earlier.
His tie was crooked.
He hated crooked ties.
“You brought a lawyer,” he said.
“So did you.”
“I’m your father.”
“You stopped using that title as protection the moment you hit me.”
His jaw moved.
For once, he did not argue.
Instead, he placed a folder on the table.
“These are company projections.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Thousands of jobs depend on Hayes Meridian.”
“Then whoever forged my signature endangered thousands of jobs.”
Walter leaned back.
“You think everything is simple.”
“No. I think forgery is specific.”
“You don’t understand defense contracting.”
“I understand enough.”
His eyes sharpened.
“That’s the problem.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
He lowered his voice.
“Federal investigators are asking about Sable Pass.”
I said nothing.
“How much have you told them?”
“Everything I am legally required to.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“You could destroy this company.”
“I’m not investigating the company.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. Say it.”
His fingers pressed against the folder.
“If investigators misunderstand normal contractor maintenance procedures, they may treat technical errors as fraud.”
“Were certifications falsified?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Did you approve payments to Halcyon?”
His face changed.
So he knew Daniel had found them.
“Those were legitimate consulting fees.”
“What did Halcyon consult on?”
“Corporate risk.”
“Samuel Price controlled it.”
“Samuel arranged specialists.”
“Name one.”
Silence.
I leaned forward.
“Did you know Northstar failed testing?”
Walter looked toward the window.
That was enough.
“How long?”
“You don’t understand what failed testing means.”
“How long?”
“Rebecca made technical problems sound catastrophic.”
“My mother was an electrical engineer.”
“And I ran the company.”
“She founded it with you.”
“I found the customers.”
“And she built what you sold.”
His fist tightened.
There it was again.
The old wound.
My mother’s competence had always felt like an insult to him.
He stood and walked toward the window.
“Your mother believed one imperfect component justified burning down five years of work.”
“She asked for an audit.”
“She asked for everything.”
“Maybe because she was right.”
Walter turned.
“She was dying.”
The words landed hard.
“She knew she was dying, Claire. She became obsessed with leaving everything perfect.”
I felt anger rise.
“Don’t use her illness to discredit her.”
“I lived through it. You visited hospitals between Army classes and thought you understood.”
“I was there.”
“You were passing through.”
The cruelty was deliberate.
I forced myself not to react.
“What favor do you want?”
Walter paused.
Then I understood.
The meeting had never been about explaining.
He needed something.
“I need you to clarify to investigators that Sable Pass was caused by battlefield conditions, not contractor misconduct.”
I almost laughed.
“You want me to lie.”
“I want you to explain uncertainty.”
“I found corrupted telemetry.”
“You found corrupted data during combat.”
“I found maintenance suppression.”
His eyes widened slightly.
He had not known investigators told me that.
I continued.
“You don’t even know what evidence they have.”
“Neither do you.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
Walter sat again.
For a few seconds he looked less like my father and more like a trapped executive calculating doors.
Finally he said, “Because government investigators don’t care who gets destroyed once they choose a theory.”
“Did you approve Northstar?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother would have.”
“She wrote that she refused.”
That struck him.
I saw it.
“What letter?”
I said nothing.
“Claire.”
“You don’t get to ask.”
Walter’s face hardened again.
“You think Rebecca left you some map of good people and bad people?”
“No.”
“She kept secrets too.”
My pulse shifted.
“What secrets?”
He opened the folder.
Inside was an old photograph.
My mother stood beside Graham Pike at a technology conference.
The date was twelve years ago.
Pike had supposedly joined Hayes Meridian only three years after Rebecca died.
“What am I looking at?”
“Your mother knew Graham long before I hired him.”
“How?”
“She recruited him.”
I looked up.
“That contradicts everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why would she later reject Northstar?”
Walter’s expression became almost satisfied.
“Ask the right question.”
“Which is?”
“What happened between them?”
I studied the photograph.
My mother and Pike appeared friendly.
Not intimate.
Professional.
Comfortable.
Walter stood.
“I never wanted you in the military because I knew what institutions do to families.”
“No. You told me women belonged at home.”
“I said many stupid things.”
“That’s one accurate statement.”
He flinched.
Then he headed toward the door.
I stopped him.
“Dad.”
He turned.
“Who created the fake Claire Hayes corporate account?”
His eyes flickered.
Barely.
But I knew him too well.
“You know.”
He said nothing.
“Who?”
Walter opened the door.
Before leaving, he looked at me.
“Ask Daniel why your account was created the same week he became CFO.”
Then he disappeared into the hallway.
That evening I called my brother.
He did not answer.
I drove to his apartment.
The door was open.
Nothing appeared stolen.
Nothing valuable, anyway.
His television remained.
His watch sat on the counter.
But every drawer had been emptied.
Every file box overturned.
Daniel stood in the center of the room.
His face was gray.
“What did they take?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“The original backup drive from Mom’s accounting server.”
“Who knew you had it?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Dad.”
He hesitated.
“And Samuel.”
Then he pointed toward the shelf.
A small wooden model airplane was missing too.
I remembered it instantly.
Our mother had built it with Daniel when he was nine.
“Why take that?”
Daniel stared at the empty space.
“They didn’t.”
“What?”
He looked toward me.
“I moved it yesterday.”
“Where?”
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For the first time since graduation, my brother smiled.
“To the safest place I could think of.”
