Chapter 4 - THE BASEMENT THAT WAS NEVER EMPTY
They reached Clara's house twenty minutes later.
The front door was open.
Arthur stopped the convoy.
Nobody moved.
The house looked untouched.
Too untouched.
No broken windows.
No damaged locks.
No obvious signs of entry.
Arthur stared at it.
“This is wrong.”
The commander nodded.
“Agreed.”
Two military police officers entered first.
A minute later, one returned.
“Clear.”
Arthur didn't believe him.
He walked inside.
Clara followed.
The photographs on the walls were exactly where she had left them.
Her childhood drawings.
Her mother's portrait.
The old clock above the fireplace.
Everything looked normal.
Then Arthur noticed the clock.
He walked toward it.
Touched the frame.
And froze.
“There.”
Clara frowned.
“What?”
“A fingerprint.”
He pointed to a thin layer of dust.
Someone had moved the clock.
Arthur removed it from the wall.
Behind it was a hidden keypad.
Clara stared.
“You had a safe behind the clock?”
Arthur shook his head.
“I didn't build this.”
The commander looked at him.
“Then who did?”
Arthur whispered:
“Elena.”
He entered six numbers.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Clara stepped forward.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“I think I know.”
She entered her mother's birthday.
The panel opened.
Behind it was a narrow staircase leading underground.
Clara stared into the darkness.
“You never told me this existed.”
“I didn't know.”
They descended.
At the bottom was a room filled with old equipment.
Computers.
Documents.
Photographs.
Military maps.
And hundreds of labeled boxes.
The commander stared in disbelief.
“This is a command archive.”
Arthur walked toward a metal cabinet.
Its label read:
ELENA VANCE — PERSONAL
He opened it.
Inside was a single envelope.
Arthur recognized the handwriting immediately.
His hands began shaking.
Clara took the envelope.
It had her name on it.
CLARA.
She opened it.
Her mother's letter contained only a few lines.
If you're reading this, your father finally told you the truth.
Trust him.
But do not trust anyone who tells you Nightglass ended.
It didn't.
It only changed names.
Clara looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Arthur couldn't answer.
The commander picked up a file.
“Sir.”
Arthur turned.
The file contained photographs of politicians, military officials, businessmen, judges.
Some were still alive.
Some were dead.
At the bottom was a photograph of Julian.
But the date beneath it was impossible.
Taken twelve years ago.
Clara stared.
Julian had told her they met five years ago.
Then she saw another photograph.
Victoria.
And another.
Julian's father.
They were standing beside the same man.
A man Clara had never seen.
Arthur's face went pale.
“No.”
“What?” Clara asked.
Arthur pointed to the photograph.
“That man died thirty years ago.”
The commander looked closer.
“Who is he?”
Arthur whispered the name.
“Senator Nathaniel Hale.”
Julian's grandfather.
But beneath the photograph was a handwritten note.
NATHANIEL HALE — DECEASED, 1996.
Then, underneath it:
FALSE DEATH CONFIRMED.
Clara stepped backward.
“If he isn't dead…”
A noise came from the darkness behind them.
A gunshot shattered the silence.
The lights went out.
And someone whispered:
May you like
“General Vance.”
“Welcome back.”
