“Mitch locks the perimeter at six-fifteen.At six-thirty, the safety drill goes building-wide.Staff follows lockdown protocol — patients stay in rooms, corridors clear, security sweeps each floor.That gives us approximately forty minutes.”
“Doing what?”
“Three things.I pull the security camera backups from the basement server room — same corridor as the dock.Mason downloads the sealed transfer orders from the physicians’ portal while the system’s in emergency mode and the audit trail is suspended.And if anyone moves against Maren during the chaos, we pull her out.Mitch controls the exits.I’m on the floor.You’re in the lot with comms and a vehicle.”
Ronan traced the route on the overlay — the perimeter, the basement corridor, the elevator path to med-surg.His finger stopped on the dock.
“That’s the weak point.No badge reader.Padlock and a rolling gate.Montgomery’s people have the same internal calendar we do.We’re not the only ones who could exploit forty minutes of nobody watching the basement.”
“I know.”
“Is Thompson good?”
“He’s scared enough of his own complicity to do exactly what we tell him on Monday morning.After that, I don’t care.”
Ronan nodded once.He moved to the kitchen, refilled both coffee mugs from the press, and brought them back.He set Graham’s in front of him without comment.
“Caleb,” Ronan said into the phone, “you’re on speaker.”
“I’m looking at Ani Prescott’s second account,” Caleb said.“The deposits hit on the same day as the four sealed transfers Maren documented.Same amount each time.Twenty-two hundred.Wired from a shell LLC that traces back through three holding companies to Coastal Infrastructure Partners.”
“The same Coastal that built the renovation.”
“Same one.Same name on the ambulance contracts.Same name on the maintenance agreements for the camera system Pruitt manages.”
Graham stared at the overlay.The pieces were no longer pieces.
“What about Prescott herself?”Ronan asked.
“Cleared her locker last night,” Caleb said.“Didn’t turn in her badge.HR has her listed as active.Maria saw the locker empty at the start of shift this morning and called Maren.”
“She ran.”
“Or they pulled her.”
Ronan and Graham looked at each other across the table.
“Four days,” Caleb said.“Run it clean.”
The line clicked off.
Graham folded the overlay and slid it into the operational folder.He looked at the time on the microwave.5:47.
“Go,” Ronan said.“She’s expecting you.”
Graham looked at him.
“You’ve been living inside this operation for three weeks,” Ronan said.“Go eat dinner with the woman.Plan the mission.Not the funeral.”
Graham picked up his keys.
* * *
Maren opened the door before he knocked.Her hair was loose, still damp at the ends from a shower, and she had on a soft blue shirt that had been washed enough times to forget what its original color had been.She held a yellow highlighter in one hand.
“You’re early.”
“Six minutes.”
