There it is, buried in the fine print of the contract on my screen, hidden in plain sight.
Fiscal Backer:Shadowharbor.See appendix C.
I freeze.
Holy shit.
I click it faster than I've ever clicked a link in my life.
It opens in a new tab, and I scan through the contract. And that's when I see it.
A name I know. A signature.
Martin Flannery.
"What the fuck," I say, leaning in to make sure.
But there it is, in digital ink clear as day.
Martin Flannery has been with the Killaney Trust for years. He's quiet and reliable. He helped me last year with the Shadowharbor banquet we hosted, now I know why.
He's the kind of guy who blends into the background so well you forget he's there. He also has access to everything.
My schedule. My movements. The guest lists for events. Security protocols.
My hands shake as I type his name in and pull up another document, then another.
Martin's name is on contracts forSkyjester,Raven Holdings, and two others I hadn't even seen yet.
He's not just the mole. He's at the center of this entire web.
I lean back in my chair, my breath coming faster now, my mind racing.
Shadowharbor has shell companies all over the place, and Martin is the one connecting them to the Trust.
He's probably been funneling information to them and God knows what else.
Before I can process it further, a message notification pops up on my screen.
It's Declan.
Got the images. Sending now.
I click on it, and it opens up the message app on my computer.
Dings sound out, and each image comes in.
They're stills from security footage from the night of the explosion.
The first is a man in a suit, his face partially obscured by the angle. I can't make out his features, but I see the badge around his neck Declan mentioned.
I look at the other.
Then Declan sends another image. It's a zoomed-in shot of two men by the side doors.
"Son of a bitch," I yell, grabbing my phone and dialing Declan before I can think twice.
Martin. He's the one who let the bomber in. He's the one who almost got me killed.
