Chapter 4 - The Infiltration of Camden House
The following evening brought a cold, biting sleet that glazed the streets of Baltimore in ice.
Nora arrived at Camden House twenty minutes before her shift began.
She had spent forty minutes in the staff bathroom covering the purplish bruises on her jaw with foundation.
Her burned hand was wrapped tightly in clean gauze beneath a long-sleeved service shirt.
Every movement sent sharp needles of pain radiating up through her forearm.
The restaurant manager, a cowardly man named Higgins, cornered her near the walk-in freezer.
"Mercer called me this morning from the municipal building, Nora."
Nora froze, clutching an armful of clean aprons to her chest.
"What did he say, Mr. Higgins?"
"He reminded me that our health inspection is scheduled for next Tuesday."
"He said if you embarrass this establishment again, our liquor license will be revoked on the spot."
"I understand, sir."
"One more mistake, Bennett, and you are out on the street without a reference."
Nora bowed her head and stepped out onto the dining floor.
The dinner rush was unusually quiet due to the worsening sleet storm outside.
At seven-fifteen, the front brass bell chimed, letting in a swirl of freezing winter air.
Adrian Vale entered the dining room completely alone.
He wore a long wool overcoat over an impeccably tailored navy suit.
There was no security detail hovering at his flank, no intimidating display of street muscle.
Yet the moment he crossed the threshold, the hostess behind the podium dropped her seating chart.
Higgins hurried out from behind the bar, wiping his sweaty palms on a dish towel.
"Mr. Vale, welcome back, sir."
"We have a private booth in the rear lounge prepared for you."
"I do not want the rear lounge," Adrian said smoothly.
His voice cut through the ambient jazz music like a razor blade.
"Table Twelve will suit me fine."
Table Twelve was situated squarely in the center of Nora’s assigned section.
Higgins swallowed hard and nodded frantically.
"Of course, sir, right this way."
Adrian sat down facing the kitchen doors and draped his coat over the back of the chair.
Nora stood behind the pantry curtain, her heart hammering against her bruised ribs.
She took three deep breaths, smoothed her apron, and stepped toward his table.
Her hands shook as she placed a leather-bound menu in front of him.
"Good evening, Mr. Vale."
"Water to start, or would you like to review the wine list?"
Adrian did not look at the menu.
His gray eyes fixed directly on the heavy layer of makeup coating her left cheekbone.
He noticed the careful way she held her right arm against her torso to guard her ribs.
"Black tea," Adrian said calmly.
"And sit down for two minutes, Mrs. Mercer."
Nora’s breath caught in her throat.
"Staff are strictly forbidden from sitting with patrons, sir."
"Higgins is currently hiding behind the dish rack praying I do not burn his business down."
"He will not say a word."
Adrian slid a thin white business card across the table.
The card bore no company name, only an embossed black crest and a private phone number.
"Your husband is a very small man who casts a very loud shadow," Adrian murmured.
Nora stepped backward as if the card were made of glowing coals.
"I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Vale."
"I know about Bayside Holdings, Nora."
The name struck her with the physical force of a hammer.
She had not heard that corporate name spoken aloud since the day she was fired.
"I know who planted the forged emails on your desktop three years ago."
"I know who arranged for your professional certification to be revoked."
"And I know what happens in your house after the porch lights go out."
Tears of sudden, suffocating panic pooled in Nora’s eyes.
"Please stop," she whispered desperately.
"If Evan sees you talking to me, he will kill me."
"Evan Mercer cannot kill anyone without filling out three permits first," Adrian said coldly.
"He is a paper tyrant who hides behind municipal codes."
"Take the card, Nora."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Because you are an exceptional auditor who was robbed of her life."
"And because I have a job that requires someone who can read numbers that other people bury."
Before Nora could answer, the front door swung open with aggressive force.
May you like
Evan Mercer stepped into the dining room, his wet umbrella dripping across the polished floorboards.
He spotted Adrian Vale sitting at Nora’s table, and his charming civic smile instantly vanished.
