Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT THE HARBOR BURNED
The fire began at 11:42 p.m.
Warehouse Seven.
The oldest Calloway terminal.
The place where Graham and Eleanor had signed their first major contract.
Eleanor was asleep when Nora called.
"Turn on the news."
She sat up.
"What happened?"
"There's a fire at the harbor."
Eleanor switched on the television.
Flames rose above the waterfront.
Firefighters moved between trucks.
Smoke covered the night sky.
She recognized the building immediately.
Warehouse Seven.
Her stomach tightened.
"Is anyone inside?"
Nora paused.
"We don't know yet."
Eleanor grabbed her coat.
Then stopped.
She no longer worked for Graham.
She no longer lived at the estate.
But she remembered the night shift.
The workers.
The families.
The people who had trusted her to keep them safe.
She called the emergency contact number.
No answer.
Then she called the warehouse supervisor.
"Marcus?"
His voice was strained.
"Mrs. Calloway?"
"Is everyone out?"
"We're counting."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Use the secondary muster list. The one in the emergency binder."
A pause.
Then:
"I forgot about that."
She gave him the location.
Within minutes, the workers were accounted for.
Two had minor injuries.
No one was missing.
Eleanor sank onto the sofa.
Relief washed through her.
Then Marcus called again.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"There's something you should know."
She sat up.
"What?"
"The fire started near the records room."
Eleanor went cold.
The records room contained old contracts.
Shipping logs.
And archived ownership documents.
Nora spoke quietly when Eleanor called her back.
"That timing is suspicious."
Eleanor stared at the television.
May you like
Flames continued rising.
For the first time, she wondered whether Victor Sloane was willing to destroy more than a company to protect his secrets.
