The Shadow Beneath the Desk
Silas didn’t check the desk immediately. In his world, children were often pawns used by enemies to plant paranoia. “Trust no one,” his father’s voice echoed from the grave. “Especially the innocent messenger.”
He summoned his right-hand man, Caleb Vance. Caleb had followed Silas for fifteen years, saved his life three times, and buried bodies without question. If Silas trusted anyone, it was Caleb.
“The housekeeper’s girl,” Silas said casually. “What do you know about her?”
Caleb shrugged. “The orphan? Quiet kid. Keeps to herself. Probably just seeing shadows, boss.”
But that night, Silas couldn’t sleep. At 3:00 a.m., he crept into his office like a ghost. He lowered himself to the floor and reached under the desk. His fingertips touched something cold, small, and rectangular. A military-grade recording unit.
His blood ran cold as he hit playback. His own voice filled the room, discussing a shipment at Pier 47. The conversation had been with Caleb. Every detail of his operation was laid bare.