Chapter 3 - A Dead Woman’s First Decision
Isaiah pulled Eleanor behind the rusted equipment racks.
“Don’t speak.”
The footsteps stopped outside.
Rain hammered the roof.
A flashlight beam entered through the gaps around the broken door.
Eleanor held the machete with both hands.
At seventy-two, soaked, injured, and exhausted, she understood the absurdity of believing she could overpower a younger attacker.
But she also understood desperation.
A shadow crossed the doorway.
Then a voice called in Portuguese.
Isaiah exhaled.
He answered.
A thin local conservation ranger stepped inside, carrying a fuel container.
The man looked startled to see Eleanor, but Isaiah spoke rapidly before Eleanor could.
The ranger nodded several times.
He glanced at Eleanor only briefly, then handed Isaiah a radio battery and departed.
“What did you tell him?” Eleanor asked.
“That you’re an injured American tourist.”
“He’ll recognize me.”
“He doesn’t follow American business news.”
“Everyone has a phone.”
“Not everyone cares who billionaires are.”
Under different circumstances, Eleanor might have smiled.
Isaiah connected the battery to an old communications unit.
“The nearest road access is several hours away,” he said. “We can get you to Manaus tomorrow.”
“No hospitals.”
“You may have a fractured ankle.”
“No hospitals under my name.”
Isaiah looked at her.
“You’re thinking clearly.”
“I founded a company operating in sixty-two countries. I know how information moves.”
“You also trusted your husband.”
The sentence landed hard.
Eleanor’s expression sharpened.
Isaiah did not apologize.
She sat at the old desk.
“What would you do?”
“If my family had just thrown me into a river?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t announce that I survived.”
Eleanor looked toward the dark window.
That had already occurred to her.
Julian believed her dead.
Richard believed her dead.
Celeste believed her dead.
For the first time since the river, that gave Eleanor something they did not have.
Time.
“What happens to Thorne Meridian if I die?” Isaiah asked.
Eleanor answered automatically.
“My founder shares pass into the Thorne Family Continuity Trust.”
“Trustee?”
“Richard.”
“And after him?”
“Julian.”
Isaiah stared at her.
“That seems convenient.”
“It was designed twenty years ago when Richard was a different man.”
“Was he?”
Eleanor looked at the boxes.
Perhaps not.
She picked up the satellite communicator.
There were very few people she could contact without immediately alerting her family.
Her board chair?
No. Julian had spent years cultivating board members.
Her executive assistant?
Possibly monitored.
Security?
Martin Vale supervised corporate investigations through legal.
Then Eleanor remembered a number she had memorized because she never stored it digitally.
Naomi Price.
A former federal prosecutor who had represented Eleanor personally during an antitrust inquiry nine years earlier.
Naomi did not work for Thorne Meridian.
More importantly, she disliked Richard.
Eleanor entered the number.
Isaiah stopped her.
“If she answers, don’t tell her where you are.”
Eleanor nodded.
The connection went through.
Three rings.
“Price.”
Eleanor closed her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice.
“Naomi.”
Silence.
Then, “Who is this?”
“You know who.”
Another silence.
Naomi lowered her voice.
“Eleanor?”
“Yes.”
“My God.”
“What have you heard?”
Naomi hesitated.
That told Eleanor enough.
“Say it.”
“Richard called me forty minutes ago.”
Eleanor’s grip tightened.
“He said there was an accident. That you fell from the cruiser during a storm.”
“Did he say they saw me drown?”
“He said Julian tried to reach you.”
A hollow laugh escaped Eleanor.
“What else?”
“They’ve contacted the embassy. Brazilian authorities have been notified. Search operations are supposedly beginning.”
“Supposedly.”
“Eleanor, where are you?”
“I won’t tell you yet.”
Naomi went quiet again.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I trust you enough to call.”
“What happened?”
Eleanor stared at Richard’s signature inside the waterproof box.
“My son and husband pushed me.”
Naomi inhaled sharply.
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“Celeste?”
“She knew.”
“Are you injured?”
“Not enough.”
There was an edge in Eleanor’s voice Naomi recognized.
“Listen to me,” Naomi said. “Do not contact the company. Do not access your normal accounts. Do not use your passport until we plan it. If they intended to kill you, the river may only be one piece.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to preserve whatever I can from outside the corporate system.”
“Start with the Continuity Trust.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard becomes trustee if I’m dead.”
Naomi paused.
“Eleanor, there’s something you need to know.”
Her tone changed.
“What?”
“I received a document yesterday.”
“From whom?”
“An anonymous courier.”
“What document?”
“A copy of an amendment to your Continuity Trust.”
Eleanor frowned.
“I haven’t amended it in six years.”
“This one is dated three weeks ago.”
Her skin went cold.
“What does it say?”
“It accelerates transfer of your super-voting shares to Julian if you die or become permanently incapacitated.”
“I never signed that.”
“I assumed you had.”
“I did not.”
“Then someone forged your signature.”
Isaiah listened silently.
Naomi continued.
“There’s more. The amendment identifies Richard as certifying trustee and Martin Vale as witnessing counsel.”
Eleanor looked toward the waterproof files.
Martin again.
“When does it become effective?”
“Immediately upon proof of death.”
“And if there’s no body?”
“They can petition based on extraordinary circumstances, but not quickly. Unless they produce additional documentation.”
Eleanor thought of Julian’s calm smile.
It’s over, Mom.
This had been planned down to paperwork.
“Naomi,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Tell no one I called.”
“I won’t.”
“Not even law enforcement yet.”
“That makes me uncomfortable.”
“Good. Stay uncomfortable.”
She disconnected.
Isaiah leaned against the table.
“You sound less like a victim already.”
Eleanor looked at the empty third document box.
“No.”
She touched the red note.
“SHE CAN NEVER SEE THE ORIGINAL.”
“I sound like a woman who just learned the murder started before they touched me.”
Outside, thunder rolled over the jungle.
Isaiah began repacking the documents.
“We leave at first light.”
Eleanor nodded.
Then something on Julian’s photograph caught her attention.
She lifted it toward the lantern.
Around Julian’s neck was a key on a black cord.
Eleanor knew that key.
It opened a private safe inside her New York office.
A safe only she and Richard were supposed to know existed.
Her voice dropped.
“He wasn’t searching this station.”
Isaiah looked at her.
“What?”
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Eleanor pointed at the key.
“He had already stolen what he came for.”
