“I’ll talk to the publisher about paying out the second half of the advance now.” She shifts on the bench. “In the meantime, focus on the opportunity. This is your moment, Caleb. Don’t let financial anxiety steal it from you.”
He closes his eyes, nods. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right.”
“I’ll send you the gala details. Practice your speech. Look sharp. Be brilliant.” She pauses. “You’ve got this.”
He wants to believe her. He tries to inject enthusiasm into his voice. “Yeah. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
And if he says it enough times, maybe he’ll start to believe it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The call comes at 4:47 AM.
Sasha’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. She reaches for it blindly, sees Hank’s name on the screen, and knows before she answers that the attack happened. It happened even though they got the book held back.
“It’s the Colonial Pipeline,” Hank says without preamble. “Three valve stations hit simultaneously.”
Connelly’s already sitting up beside her, fully awake. Operational training—you learn to wake up fast.
Sasha puts the phone on speaker. “Casualties?”
“Preliminary reports say no. Four workers injured, none critical. The attacks happened during shift change—fewer people on site than usual.”
She closes her eyes. Four injured. Not dead. Not like Turkey.
“It’s smaller than Turkey,” she says. “Less lethal.”
“But they moved up the timeline,” Connelly says. “This is earlier than Caleb’s original publication date.”
“Which shows that whoever’s behind this doesn’t need Caleb’s version. I think we’re back to the Archivist using Caleb to draw attention to the old events while they’re being updated and modernized. His books aren’t the playbook. They’re signal fires. Warnings.”
“That’s better than the alternative,” Connelly manages.
She finds his hand in the dark.
But people are still hurt. The pipeline is still damaged. The attack still happened.
“Was it a cyberattack?” she asks.
“Yes. And it’s interesting how closely it tracks Operation Colonial Shield. The tech team says the attackers exploited human error—a compromised password and an insecure network—to access a Human-Machine Interface dashboard to access and remotely increase valve pressure, disable alarms, and close relief valves. No need to bribe a man with gambling debt.”
“Unless that compromised password and insecure network weren’t errors,” Connelly counters. “But either way, this is a clear replication of the original attack.”
“So it’s the Lighthouse,” Sasha says softly.
“It’s time for me to talk to Linda,’ Connelly says.
After they hang up, they sit in the dark bedroom. The kids are still asleep down the hall. The house is quiet.
“We need to tell Caleb,” Sasha says finally.
“Do we?” Leo’s voice is careful. “What does he need to know that won’t put him in more danger?”
“He needs to know his books are being used as playbooks. He needs to understand what’s happening.”
“And then what? He goes to the authorities? The FBI arrests him for questioning? He becomes a target?”
She doesn’t have a good answer. Telling Caleb puts him at risk. Not telling him keeps him ignorant but safe.
