Chapter 170 Not Talking About Coffee, Talking About You

Chapter 170 Not Talking About Coffee, Talking About You

Nora held her breath.

This was The Ashes' earliest organizational chart. The core funding chain, communication protocols, personnel codes — all on one page.

Next to the "Steward" box, Atlas had written a small note in his own handwriting. The text was tiny, close enough to the screen to make out.

"This person is Julian. But there's another layer above him. I never found out who that last person is. Nory, if you're reading this, it's time."

Nora finished reading and stood there without moving.

Oliver was looking at the screen too. He didn't say anything, but Nora noticed his hand pull back from the counter — not out of nerves, but to give her space.

"How long was Atlas looking into this." Nora's voice came out a little rough.

She wasn't asking Oliver. She was asking herself.

Atlas had started laying the groundwork at least five years before he died. Writing to the Percy family, leaving the painting with Julian, passing his personal seal to her.

Nora's thoughts snagged on that for a moment.

"Get a copy of the film made and send it to Todd." Nora said to Oliver.

Oliver nodded and took high-resolution photos with his phone. Sent them off.

Todd's reply came fifteen minutes later.

Not text. A comparison chart.

He had matched every piece of intelligence he'd gathered over three years against the organizational chart on the film. The personnel coding system was the key — The Ashes used a twelve-digit number to identify each core member internally, and Todd had the real identities behind more than twenty of those codes.

And when he put those codes next to the Gray family's internal personnel numbers —

At least fourteen codes were an exact match.

Todd typed a line at the bottom of the chart.

[The Ashes isn't a partner of the Gray family. The Ashes belongs to the Gray family. Julian is the head of the operational layer. Chase is the successor.]

Nora handed the phone to Oliver.

Oliver read it. Set the phone down.

"That conclusion isn't surprising." His tone was even. "But this chart alone isn't enough. It shows how things were three years ago, and The Ashes has definitely made changes since then. Whether Julian's 'Steward' designation is still active, how much real authority Chase actually has in the structure — all of that needs current data to verify."

Nora took the film out of the reader and sealed it in an anti-static bag.

"Calla Flynn."

Oliver looked up.

"She knew there was something in the painting. Last night she messaged me — 'There are things in the painting that not everyone can see.' She wasn't testing me. She was checking whether I'd go near that painting."

Nora pulled up the message and showed it to Oliver.

"Someone whose own father used her as a bargaining chip to marry her off to Chase, and she's warning the other side that there's a secret in the painting?"

Oliver tapped a finger on the counter.

"You want to meet her."

"Not to test her." Nora locked the anti-static bag in the case. "To lay everything on the table."

Her phone rang. Todd.

Voice call.

"Nory, hold off on the Calla thing."

"Why?"

"Chase's people are moving. Ryder just reported in — three cars pulled up to that office building on the east side half an hour ago, all with temporary plates. Storm's looking into it. Don't go back to the estate tonight, stay at the Percy family's."

Nora held the phone.

Don't go back to the estate?

Todd never told her to change locations without a reason.

"How serious is this?"

A two-second pause on the other end.

"Not sure yet. But Chase lost a painting tonight, and got humiliated at the auction with the evidence right there. His next move is either to hold back or to act. I'm betting he won't hold back."

Nora ended the call.

Oliver was already on the intercom.

"Wyatt, get the third-floor guest room ready."

He hung up and looked at Nora.

"Guest room's at the end of the hall. Good soundproofing."

Nora started to say something, but tonight had already packed her head so full it was about to overflow.

"Fine."

She walked a couple of steps toward the door, then stopped.

"Oliver."

"Yeah."

"Tonight at the auction... thanks."

Oliver leaned against the appraisal table, hands in his pockets.

"Don't thank me. Atlas asked me to step in."

Nora paused.

Then turned and headed upstairs.

When she reached the third-floor hallway, she took out her phone and sent Calla a message.

[Miss Flynn, let's find a time to talk. Not about coffee. About you.]

She tossed the phone onto the pillow and lay down, staring at the ceiling.

Thirty seconds later the screen lit up.

Calla's reply was four words.

[Whenever you're ready.]

Todd was against it.

"We still don't know where Calla stands. She went straight to Chase's office right after the auction last night, and now you want to meet her? Best case, she's coming over to your side. Worst case, Chase is using her as bait."

Nora sat by the window in the third-floor guest room at the Percy family's, turning the copper coin in her hand.

"I know."

"You know and you're still going?"

"Because she knew there was something in the painting, and she didn't tell Chase."

Todd went quiet for a few seconds.

"How do you know she didn't tell Chase?"

"If she had, Chase wouldn't have let Julian put the painting up for auction. He would have taken it apart himself."

The logic held. Todd didn't push back. But he added one condition.

"Take Oliver with you."

Nora shook her head. "Calla won't say anything real with Oliver there."

"Then Storm —"

"No. I go alone. Ryder on the outside is enough."

Todd went silent for nearly ten seconds. Nora heard his fingers tapping on the desk — three times, pause, two times, pause. That was how he worked through a decision.

"Fine. But take this."

Half an hour later Wyatt knocked and handed her a small box. Inside was a comm device, smaller than a fingernail.

Under the box was a note. Oliver's handwriting.

"This time I'll be somewhere you can hear me."

Nora clipped the comm device to the inside of her collar.

Two o'clock in the afternoon.

Nora chose the rooftop café at the city art museum. Outdoors, open on all sides, with a dozen or so people scattered around having coffee.

Calla arrived on time.

No coffee equipment today. She wore a cream-colored knit top, hair down, light makeup. Her whole presence felt different from the first two times — before, she'd carried a carefully built shell around her, gentle and composed and airtight. Today that shell had thinned.

Nora sat under the umbrella with two espressos on the table.

Calla sat down across from her.

Nora skipped the small talk.

"Your fiancé had someone watching my personal guard unit for seven months. Your father tried to take a painting my brother left behind and put it up for auction to clean up the money trail. The oil painting you gave Oliver at the viewing had a signal transmitter hidden inside it."