The Worst Possible Match

Chapter Ten: Monday’s Assignment

Claire did not sleep.

She lay awake in Ethan’s apartment because neither of them trusted Malcolm’s building, Claire’s building, or the idea of separating after leaving the house by the waterfront. The black car had dropped Malcolm near a police station, exactly as Evelyn promised. It had left Claire and Ethan three blocks from Ethan’s building without explanation.

They had walked the rest of the way in silence.

Once inside, Ethan checked the windows. Claire checked the ring. They checked every room, every drawer, every shadowed corner where someone could have left another envelope, another phone, another proof that privacy was over.

They found nothing.

That did not make the apartment safe.

It only made it quiet.

By dawn, Claire sat on the sofa wearing one of Ethan’s shirts and staring at the black envelope on the coffee table. The welcome card lay beside it.

WELCOME TO THE LATTICE.

Your first assignment begins Monday.

Monday was tomorrow.

Ethan stood at the kitchen counter, making coffee with the same steady concentration he brought to everything else. His tuxedo shirt was unbuttoned at the throat. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows. He looked as if he had not slept either.

“Malcolm called,” he said.

Claire looked up.

“Is he safe?”

“He is with his daughter.”

“Does she know?”

“No. He told her he had a fall.”

Claire looked down at the card.

“Was that his choice?”

“I do not know.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He asked whether we were all right.”

Claire laughed once, softly and without humor.

“That is almost funny.”

“He is afraid.”

“So are we.”

Ethan brought her coffee.

She took it.

Their fingers touched around the cup.

Neither of them moved away immediately.

Claire looked at him.

“What did you mean last night?” she asked.

Ethan sat in the chair opposite her.

“Which part?”

“When you said you would betray your profession for me.”

His expression changed.

Not much.

Enough.

“We were giving Evelyn what she wanted to hear.”

“Were we?”

“Yes.”

Claire held his gaze.

“Then why did you hesitate before you said it?”

Ethan looked toward the windows.

The sun had begun to rise over the river, washing the buildings outside in pale light.

“Because I did not like saying it,” he said.

“That is not what I asked.”

“No.”

“Ethan.”

He looked back at her.

“There are things I would do to keep you safe,” he said. “That does not mean I want to become the kind of person who does them.”

Claire’s chest tightened.

“That is worse.”

“I know.”

She looked at the ring on her hand.

Evelyn’s voice returned to her.

You chose each other over innocence.

Claire hated that the woman had found a way to make loyalty sound dirty.

“We did not choose each other over innocence,” Claire said.

Ethan’s gaze stayed on her.

“We lied to save Malcolm.”

“We lied to survive.”

“Yes.”

“That is different.”

“Is it?”

Claire did not answer.

Her phone buzzed against the table.

A message from an unknown number.

MONDAY. 8:00 A.M.

THE LEDGER.

Claire looked at Ethan.

He had received the same message.

The next line appeared.

YOUR ASSIGNMENT WILL BE DELIVERED TO YOUR DESKS.

Ethan picked up his phone.

“We do not go in,” he said.

“They know where we work.”

“That does not mean we have to follow every instruction.”

“What happens if we do not?”

He did not answer.

Claire looked at the envelope.

They had already learned what happened when they refused.

Someone disappeared.

Someone was hurt.

Someone became leverage.

“We go,” she said.

Ethan’s expression hardened.

“We go together.”

“No. We arrive separately.”

“We are not following that part.”

“They may be watching.”

“They are always watching.”

“Then we give them the version they expect.”

Ethan stood and walked to the window.

Claire watched him.

“You do not get to decide every time,” she said.

He turned.

“Neither do you.”

“Then we decide together.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Ethan nodded once.

“Together,” he said.

Monday morning arrived bright and cold.

Claire entered The Ledger through the main lobby at 7:48. She wore a dark green blouse, black trousers, and the platinum ring. She had spent ten minutes standing in front of her mirror deciding whether to hide it.

In the end, she left it visible.

If The Lattice wanted a symbol, she would make them see it.

The newsroom looked ordinary.

That was its cruelty.

People carried coffee. Editors called across desks. A television played silently near the assignment board. Someone had brought pastries. A sports reporter argued loudly about a game Claire had not watched.

No one looked like they belonged to a network that traded in fear.

Claire walked to her desk.

A black envelope waited on her keyboard.

She stopped.

Her name was written in silver ink.

MRS. MERCER.

Across the room, Ethan stood at his desk.

He had found an identical envelope.

He looked at Claire.

One tap against the edge of his desk.

I am lying.

Claire did not know what he meant.

Not yet.

She picked up the envelope.

It was heavier than the others.

Inside was a thin folder and a white card.

The card read:

FIND THE STORY BEFORE IT BREAKS.

The folder contained a photograph of a woman leaving a courthouse.

Claire recognized her.

Sofia Bell.

A junior prosecutor in the city attorney’s office.

Sofia had become a familiar face in local legal reporting during the past year. She had handled several public corruption cases, including one involving a police contractor with ties to Councilman Grant.

Beneath the photograph was a page of information.

Sofia Bell will hold a press conference at noon.

She intends to announce charges against a corporation protected by The Lattice.

Your task is simple.

Prevent her from speaking.

Claire read the line twice.

Then a second sheet slid from the folder.

It contained Sofia’s home address.

Her mother’s name.

The name of her younger brother.

The elementary school he attended.

Claire felt sick.

Across the room, Ethan had opened his folder.

His face had gone still.

Claire crossed to him.

“Same assignment?” she asked quietly.

He handed her his card.

STOP HER.

“Do you have the address?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Family information?”

“Yes.”

Claire looked around the newsroom.

Everyone moved normally.

Toby stood near the printer, sorting pages. Marcus Vale spoke with Malcolm outside the glass conference room. Malcolm looked pale but upright. He had returned to work. His face was carefully composed.

Claire watched Marcus lean close to him.

Something passed between them.

A warning.

A threat.

Or nothing.

Ethan spoke under his breath.

“They want us to scare her.”

“They want us to stop her.”

“Those may be the same thing.”

Claire looked at the folder.

“We warn her.”

Ethan’s eyes snapped to hers.

“No.”

“You have a better plan?”

“We do not know what The Lattice will do if we contact her.”

“They have already threatened her family.”

“And if they are monitoring us, we lead them directly to her.”

“We cannot sit here.”

“I am not suggesting we sit here.”

“Then what?”

Ethan glanced toward the conference room.

“Malcolm.”

Claire followed his gaze.

“We cannot trust him.”

“We cannot trust anyone.”

“That is still not a reason to tell him.”

“He may know how The Lattice operates.”

“He may also tell them we are compromised.”

Ethan looked at the ring on her hand.

“We are compromised.”

The words were true.

Claire hated them.

Before she could respond, Malcolm approached.

He looked from Claire to Ethan.

“Conference room,” he said.

His voice was quiet.

Tight.

Claire and Ethan exchanged a glance.

Then they followed him.

Malcolm shut the door and lowered the blinds.

For a moment, he stood with his back to them.

Claire saw the bruise at his temple, almost hidden beneath his hair.

“You got the envelopes,” he said.

Claire’s body went cold.

“You knew,” she said.

Malcolm turned.

“I knew they would send something.”

“You knew they would use us.”

“I knew they would test you.”

Ethan folded his arms.

“Did you know the assignment?”

“No.”

“Do not lie,” Claire said.

Malcolm looked at her.

“I am trying not to.”

“Trying?”

He pressed both hands against the conference table.

“Evelyn Voss does not give people tasks because she needs help. She gives tasks because she needs to know what they will do with power.”

“She wants Sofia Bell silenced,” Ethan said.

“She wants to know whether you will silence her.”

Claire placed the folder on the table.

“They sent her family’s information.”

Malcolm looked at it.

His face drained of color.

“They are escalating.”

“They were already holding you in a chair,” Claire said.

“I know.”

“Then help us.”

Malcolm looked between them.

“You cannot warn Sofia directly.”

“Why not?” Claire asked.

“Because if they are watching her, they will know you warned her. They will not punish you first. They will punish her.”

Claire felt anger rise.

“So we let her walk into a press conference?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Malcolm hesitated.

That was enough.

Ethan noticed too.

“You know something,” he said.

Malcolm looked at the floor.

“Two years ago, a prosecutor named Aaron Pike was investigating a Lattice connected contractor. He was given a warning. He ignored it. The morning he was supposed to testify before a grand jury, his wife was arrested for embezzlement.”

Claire stared at him.

“Was she guilty?”

“No.”

“What happened to Pike?”

“He withdrew from the case. His wife took a plea deal. They moved out of state.”

“And you knew this?”

“I heard rumors.”

“You heard rumors and did nothing?”

“I did not have proof.”

Claire laughed bitterly.

“Of course.”

Malcolm flinched.

Ethan spoke before Claire could continue.

“Who has access to Sofia Bell?”

Malcolm looked at the folder.

“Her office. Her family. The police. Anyone who can watch her routine.”

“We need to get to her without being seen,” Ethan said.

Claire looked at him.

“You said no direct warning.”

“I said we cannot contact her in a way that leads them to her.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No.”

A plan began forming.

Claire hated it.

That usually meant it might work.

“What is the press conference about?” she asked.

Malcolm picked up the photograph.

“Bell has been investigating Novaris Development.”

Claire knew the name.

Novaris was a private developer with city contracts worth millions. It was connected to emergency housing projects, waterfront redevelopment, and the kind of public private deals that produced beautiful renderings and displaced poor people.

Councilman Grant had championed several of its projects.

“Grant,” Claire said.

“Yes,” Malcolm replied. “And Harrow and Vale.”

Ethan’s gaze sharpened.

“The same firm Daniel worked for.”

“Yes.”

Claire understood.

Sofia Bell was about to expose something tied to Daniel’s records.

The Lattice wanted the announcement stopped before it reached the public.

“What if we get the story first?” Claire asked.

Ethan looked at her.

“The card says find the story before it breaks.”

“We are journalists. They assigned us a journalist’s task.”

“They told us to prevent her from speaking.”

“Maybe they want us to bury it. Or maybe they want to see whether we can control the narrative.”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed.

“Claire.”

“What?”

“If you publish before she speaks, you could force Novaris to respond. You could put the information into public view before The Lattice can contain it.”

Ethan shook his head.

“Not without documents.”

“Then we get documents,” Claire said.

“We have less than four hours.”

“Then we move fast.”

Ethan looked at her.

For a moment, she expected him to tell her it was reckless.

Instead, he nodded.

“Fine.”

Claire blinked.

“That was easy.”

“It is a terrible plan.”

“Thank you.”

“But it is better than waiting for them to decide Sofia’s life for her.”

Malcolm looked at both of them.

“You cannot use the newsroom systems. Marcus will see everything.”

“Then we work outside,” Ethan said.

Malcolm hesitated again.

Claire watched him.

“What now?” she asked.

He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a keycard.

“Daniel kept a storage unit,” he said. “Not the locker at Union Station. A unit in a records facility near the river.”

Claire looked at Ethan.

“He told you?”

“No,” Malcolm said. “He told me months ago. He was scared. I did not understand why until now.”

“Did you tell The Lattice?” Claire asked.

Malcolm’s eyes filled with something like regret.

“No.”

Claire wanted to believe him.

She did not know if she could.

The keycard sat between them on the table.

“Why give it to us now?” Ethan asked.

“Because I am done choosing the easy betrayal.”

The room went silent.

Claire looked at the card.

Then at the clock on the wall.

8:26.

They had three hours and thirty four minutes.

“Where is the facility?” she asked.

Malcolm gave them the address.

Ethan picked up the keycard.

“Stay here,” he told Malcolm.

Malcolm gave a short, humorless laugh.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It is not punishment,” Ethan said.

“It feels like it.”

Claire turned toward the door.

“Do not leave the building,” she said.

Malcolm looked at her.

“Claire.”

“If Marcus approaches you, call us. If anyone gives you an envelope, do not open it. If you get a message from Evelyn, do not answer.”

“You think I am incapable of making one good decision?”

“I think they know how to make people feel like they have none.”

Malcolm looked down.

Then he nodded.

Claire and Ethan left the conference room separately.

Claire walked through the newsroom first, carrying an empty folder beneath her arm. She did not look at Marcus. She did not look at Toby. She did not look at the cameras near the elevators.

Outside, a cold wind cut down the street.

Ethan joined her half a block away.

“Do you think Malcolm is telling the truth?” she asked.

“No.”

Claire looked at him.

“You do not?”

“I think he is telling part of it.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“It is realistic.”

“You have to stop saying that.”

“No.”

They got into Ethan’s car.

As he pulled into traffic, Claire opened the keycard folder.

Inside was a handwritten note in Daniel Hargrove’s cramped handwriting.

If I disappear, do not trust the first file you find.

The real archive is behind the false archive.

Claire showed Ethan.

He read it once.

Then his expression went grim.

“This is going to be a trap.”

Claire looked out at the city sliding past them.

“Yes,” she said.

“But it may be the only trap that can save Sofia Bell.”