Chapter 7 - The Registry Office
The municipal records building on 5th Avenue was an imposing monument of limestone and heavy brass, bathed in the pale wash of streetlamps.
Parking half a block away, Daniel killed the engine of his sedan. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional taxi hissing through the wet autumn air. Emma sat in the passenger seat, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handles of the green metal box in her lap.
“Is security tight?” Noah whispered from the back seat, peering out the window.
“It’s a government building at one in the morning,” Daniel said quietly, unbuckling his seatbelt. “There’s a night watchman at the main desk, but the filing deposit slot is around the side alley. It bypasses the lobby entirely.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before,” Emma noted, glancing sideways at him.
“Real estate development, Emma. You learn every backdoor, zoning loophole, and municipal shortcut in the tri-state area.” Daniel turned to look at her, his expression softening in the dim light of the dashboard. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once we drop these documents into the state system, there’s no turning back. Julian will know within an hour that someone triggered the freeze.”
“He already threatened us with bankruptcy and ruin,” Emma said, her jaw tight. “What else is he going to do—fire me from a job I don't have?”
Daniel gave a short, humorless nod. “Fair enough.”
They slipped out of the car and moved quickly down the shadowy brick alleyway. The wind caught the hem of Emma’s coat, but she didn't shiver. Her mind was entirely focused on the heavy metal box against her ribs.
The deposit slot was set into the thick oak service door, protected by a heavy steel flap. Above it, a digital keypad glowed a faint amber.
“Here,” Daniel said, pulling a small plastic keycard from his wallet and swiping it through the side reader.
The heavy steel flap clicked and unlatched.
“How did you—?” Noah started.
“I’m on the city planning committee,” Daniel whispered, lifting the flap. “Put the transfer ledger and the seal registration form inside, Emma. Make sure the stamp faces up.”
Emma stepped forward, her hand trembling slightly as she popped the latch on the green tin. She pulled out the yellowed parchment and the heavy brass corporate seal her mother had carried away from the burning mills twenty-five years ago.
As she slid the documents into the cold metal slot, a sharp sound echoed down the alley.
Footsteps. Heavy, measured, and unhurried.
“Daniel,” Noah hissed, grabbing the sleeve of Daniel’s coat.
From the mouth of the alley, a figure stepped out from beneath the amber glow of the streetlamp. He was tall, wearing an expensive charcoal overcoat, and holding a silver-tipped umbrella even though the pavement was completely dry.
Julian Vance stopped ten feet away, his hands folded neatly over the handle of his umbrella.
May you like
“Going somewhere, nephew?” Julian asked, his voice smooth as silk. “And with unauthorized company property, no less.”
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