Everything in him went quiet and sharp at the same time, the way it did in the middle of a complex negotiation when the other person finally showed what they actually wanted. Mr. Pierce, he said. His voice came out neutral. Good.
This is a surprise. I imagine it is. I'll be brief because I respect your time. A small pause, the kind that was calculated to feel considerate. I understand you've made the decision to leave Sterling Urban Development.
I think that's a loss for the company and I wanted to say so personally. I appreciate that. I also wanted to say manto man that I'm aware this has been a difficult period that certain pressures have been placed on you that weren't entirely fair. A pause. And that I hope you know there are people on the board who have always recognized your contribution regardless of how things have appeared.
Andre heard exactly what Harold Pierce was doing. He'd done it at the highest level of corporate politics for 40 years. He was extending a hand. He was suggesting alliance. He was offering Andre a way out that also happened to be a way in a way of positioning Andre as someone who had been wronged by Clare Sterling's mismanagement rather than someone who might become a problem.
He was trying to find out how much Andre knew. That's very kind, Andre said. I wonder if you might have time this week for a conversation. Nothing formal, just two men talking about what's best going forward for the people who depend on Haven District to actually happen. I might be able to make time, Andre said.
Let me look at my calendar and get back to you. Of course, Pice's voice was warm. Take all the time you need for 10 seconds. Then he picked up his phone and called Clare. Pice just called me, he said the moment she answered.
He heard the sharp intake of breath. When 2 minutes ago he offered a meeting, framed it as concern for Haven District. He's fishing. He wants to know if I know something. What did you say?
That I'd get back to him. Andre, he moved up his timeline. Andre said if he's calling me directly, he's not as comfortable as he was yesterday. Something changed. Or someone told him we've been talking.
Her voice was tight. If there's surveillance on my communications, have you used any Sterling device to contact me in the last 48 hours? A brief pause. No, personal phone only. Then he's guessing.
He knows I left. He knows you're compromised and he's trying to create space between us before whatever he's planning lands. Andre stood up. He walked as he talked because he thought better moving. Don't call Dana through Sterling systems.
Is there another way? I can see her in person. She lives six blocks from my apartment. Go tonight after hours. Don't tell anyone where you're going.
I know how to be careful. Claire, he stopped walking. I know you do. I'm saying it anyway because the stakes just changed. A silence.
The board meeting, she said slowly. Richard requested an emergency session. It's been set for Friday. What day is it today? Wednesday.
48 hours. Then we have tonight and tomorrow. He said. That's what we have. He heard her breath steady and controlled.
I'll see Dana tonight, she said. Whatever she finds, I'll have it for you by morning. Good. And Andre, her voice shifted slightly. What are you going to do about Pierce's call?
Nothing yet, he said. But if he calls again, I'll answer. He said it with the calm certainty of someone who had just decided to let the opposing side think they were winning. Clare understood exactly what he meant. Be careful, she said again.
He noticed she said it again. Clare came back at 8:47 that evening. Zoe was at the kitchen table doing homework, which she was doing with the particular intensity of someone who had decided that homework was the enemy, and the only appropriate response was total war. She had three pencils on the table and was using all of them at different times for reasons that were not immediately apparent to Andre, but that Zoe had clearly determined were essential. When Clare walked in, Zoe looked up.
"You're back," Zoe said. "Not accusatory, just noting it. " "I am," Clare said. "Dad made pasta. " "It smells good. " Zoe looked at her for a moment. Then she looked at her homework, then back at Clare. "Do you know anything about fractions? " Zoe said.
Clare set down her bag. She walked to the table. She sat down beside Zoe. Andre watched from the kitchen doorway. "Show me what you have," Clare said.
Zoe showed her. What followed was 15 minutes of Clare Sterling, who had structured the financial architecture of a billion-dollar development, attempting to explain equivalent fractions to a 9-year-old using the explanatory approach of someone who understood the concept so deeply and intuitively that she had temporarily forgotten what it felt like not to. She made two false starts and one explanation that confused Zoe more than the original problem had. Zoe corrected her approach twice. Clare accepted both corrections without defensiveness, which Andre noticed Zoe also noticed.
By the end of it, Zoe had solved four problems correctly and was looking at Clare with the measured, reluctant expression of someone who is revising their verdict without wanting to admit it. You're not very good at explaining things, Zoe said. I know, Clare said. But you didn't give up. No.
Zoe looked at her homework. That's something," she said and picked up a pencil. Andre turned back to the stove. After Zoe was in bed, they sat at the kitchen table. Clare had a manila envelope.
She opened it. The document on top was the IT authorization processing log. Four pages. Dana had pulled it cleanly. No flags, no trail in the system in under 7 minutes.
Andre looked at the submission record. The authorization request for the executive credential management update had been submitted from administrative terminal 7C on the 12th floor. He looked at Clare who uses terminal 7C. It's a shared administrative workstation, she said. Outside Richard's department.
She paused. But Richard's office is 40 ft from that terminal. That's not enough. Keep reading. He turned to page two.