He completes the combination—five turns right to 517—and we all hold our breath. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a heavy click, the lock disengages.
“It worked,” Kori whispers in awe.
Jake and Kane step forward to help Richard pull the heavy door open. It moves slowly, its hinges protesting after decades of disuse. As it swings wide, our flashlights illuminate what lies beyond, and I gasp involuntarily.
The chamber beyond is larger than I expected, perhaps fifteen feet square. Metal shelving lines the walls, laden with wooden crates, leather portfolios, and what appear to be photographic plates in protective cases. In the center stands a large table, its surface covered by a faded map weighted down with small gold nuggets at each corner.
“My God,” Jake breathes, stepping inside. “It’s all still here.”
Richard moves directly to the table, his hands trembling as he examines the map. “This is it,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “The complete survey of the mineral deposits, and—” he carefully lifts one edge of the map, revealing documents beneath, “—the evidence.”
I approach one of the shelves, shining my light on a leather portfolio like the one Richard showed us in his cabin. Opening it carefully, I find newspaper clippings, handwritten affidavits, and photographs documenting what appear to be mining accidents—or rather, incidents made to look like accidents.
“These are death certificates,” I say, examining another folder. “Dozens of them, all miners who died between 1875 and 1880.”
“And these,” Caleb says from another shelf, “appear to be financial records showing bribes to judges, even the provincial mining inspector.”
“Thomas Wolf was building a case,” Richard murmurs, carefully examining each document on the table. “He was gathering evidence to expose the company, to bring them to justice for the deaths they caused.”
“But he never got the chance,” I realize aloud.
Richard nods grimly. “He died in 1881—officially of pneumonia, but family legend says he was poisoned after he threatened to go public.”
Kane has been examining the structural integrity of the chamber, shining his light along the ceiling and support beams. “This place is remarkably well-preserved,” he comments. “Wolf knew what he was doing when he built it.”
“We need to document everything,” Connor says, already taking photographs with his phone. “And then get it all out of here safely.”
“And then what?” Jake asks, looking around at all of us. “This is evidence of crimes committed over a century ago. Does it even matter anymore?”
“It matters,” Richard insists, his voice suddenly fierce. “NTM is built on the bones of those miners. The same family still controls the company, the Hawthornes. They’ve just hidden behind name changes.”
The name strikes a chord in my memory. “Hawthornes? As in Mayor William Hawthorne of Pinecrest?”
Richard nods. “His great-grandfather founded the original company. The family has used their wealth and power to bury their past for generations.”
“A sitting mayor,” Kane muses, his expression grim. “That complicates things.”
“It makes it more important,” I argue. “If what Richard says is true, then NTM is still operating with the same disregard for human life and the law. They killed Margret’s brother.”
“We need to be careful about how we proceed,” Caleb cautions, moving to stand beside me. “Companies with this much power don’t play fair when threatened.”
A sudden noise from above makes us all freeze—the sound of footsteps on the trapdoor stairs. Scout’s ears perk up, but he doesn’t growl, which means it’s likely someone he knows.
“Hello?” Ella’s voice calls down. “Everything okay down there?”
“We’re fine,” Jake calls back, relief evident in his voice. “Just making an incredible discovery. Is Nora okay?”
“She’s with me,” Ella replies, her voice growing closer as she descends the stairs. “But we have company up top. Margret just arrived, and she’s asking for Richard.”
Richard’s face pales visibly in the flashlight beam. “She followed me.”
“Richard?” Margret’s voice now, from the top of the stairs. “Are you down there? We need to talk.”
He looks panicked, glancing around as if seeking an escape route that doesn’t exist. “She doesn’t know about any of this,” he whispers urgently. “About my connection to Wolf, about what I’ve been doing.”
“Maybe it’s time she did,” I suggest gently. “She deserves to know the truth about her brother’s death, at least.”
Before Richard can respond, Margret appears at the doorway to the room, Ella right behind her, with Nora peering curiously around her legs. Margret’s eyes widen as she takes in the chamber and its contents.
