"That's the question."
The Photograph
The next morning, Benjamin returned to the hotel.
He arrived at six.
As usual.
But something was different.
His locker had been opened.
Benjamin stared at it.
He had locked it before leaving.
Inside was his lunchbox.
His spare gloves.
A photograph of his daughter.
And an envelope.
He opened the envelope.
There was one sheet of paper.
Four words.
Stop digging, Benjamin.
He read it twice.
Then he folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
He did not report it.
Instead, he went to the hotel's basement archive.
The archive was rarely used.
Old invoices and maintenance records filled metal cabinets.
Benjamin unlocked a cabinet and removed a folder.
Inside were copies of foundation contracts.
He had collected them over the past three years.
At first, he had suspected small irregularities.
Then the numbers stopped making sense.
The Sterling Foundation claimed to spend seventy-eight percent of donations on children.
But Benjamin had traced several payments to companies that did not appear to provide any services.
One company was called Northstar Consulting.
Another was called Green Valley Holdings.
A third was registered under a name Benjamin recognized.
A&A Strategic Partners.
His brother Daniel had used the initials A&A for his personal accounting system.
Benjamin stared at the name.
That couldn't be a coincidence.
He pulled out his phone.
He called an old friend.
"Thomas?"
A sleepy voice answered.
"Benjamin?"
"I need a favor."
"What kind?"
"I need you to find out who owns A&A Strategic Partners."
There was silence.
Then Thomas asked:
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Benjamin looked at the threatening note in his hand.
"No."
He paused.
"But I'm going to do it anyway."
The Girl at Table Seven
That evening, Benjamin returned to the hotel.
The gala had officially ended, but a few guests remained in the lounge.
One of them was a young woman sitting alone at table seven.
She was perhaps thirty years old.
Dark hair.
Simple black dress.
No diamonds.
No designer handbag.
She looked out of place.
Benjamin recognized her.
Emily Sterling.
Charles Sterling's daughter.
Benjamin had seen her several times over the years.
Unlike her father, Emily rarely attended public events.
She worked as an investigative journalist.
At least, according to the newspapers.
Benjamin approached her table.
"Miss Sterling."
Emily looked up.
"You know my name."
"I know everyone's name."
She smiled.
"That sounds dangerous."
"It can be."
Emily studied him.
"You're Benjamin Anderson."
Benjamin's heart stopped.
"How do you know?"
"My father mentioned you."
Benjamin said nothing.
Emily lowered her voice.
"He told me you were asking questions."
"What did he say?"
"That you were harmless."
Benjamin almost laughed.
"Your father doesn't know me very well."
"I don't think my father knows many people very well."
She looked around.
"Sit."
Benjamin hesitated.
Then he sat.
Emily leaned forward.
"My father is hiding something."
Benjamin stared at her.
"What makes you think that?"
"I've been investigating the foundation for eight months."
"Why?"
"Because I found payments to companies that don't exist."
Benjamin's eyes narrowed.
"Northstar?"
Emily nodded.
"Green Valley."
"Yes."
"A&A Strategic Partners?"
Emily's expression changed.
"You know about A&A?"
Benjamin said nothing.
She whispered:
"I found it three days ago."
Benjamin leaned back.
For the first time in years, he felt something he had almost forgotten.
Hope.
"What do you know?" he asked.
Emily reached into her handbag.
She placed a flash drive on the table.
"I copied this from my father's computer."
Benjamin looked at it.
"What's on it?"
"I don't know."
"Why give it to me?"
Emily looked toward the ballroom.
"Because someone is following me."
Benjamin looked at the entrance.
A man in a dark suit stood near the bar.
Emily whispered:
"Don't look."
Benjamin did not.
Instead, he smiled.
"Then we're going to have to be careful."
Emily nodded.
"Can you help me?"
Benjamin picked up the flash drive.
"I think I already am."
Six Point Four Million
Thomas called the next morning.
"It's owned by a trust."
Benjamin stood beside the hotel loading dock.
"Who controls the trust?"
"That's the interesting part."
"Tell me."
"It's registered to an attorney named Richard Vale."
Benjamin knew the name.
"He's Sterling's personal lawyer."
"Exactly."
Thomas paused.
"But there's more."
"What?"
"The trust receives money from the Sterling Foundation."
Benjamin closed his eyes.
"How much?"
"Over the last five years?"
"Yes."
"Twenty-eight million."
Benjamin's jaw tightened.
"Where does it go?"
"Private investments. Real estate. Offshore accounts."
Benjamin looked at the hotel.
Twenty-eight million dollars.
And the foundation was preparing to close the Mercer program because it supposedly lacked funding.