Chapter 8 - The Mechanical Lock
Thorne tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled cough. "This is absurd. Even if you're his ghost, the statute of limitations on your equity expired decades ago. You have no legal standing, old man. Security!"
Clara stepped in front of the desk, her badge gleaming under the recessed lighting. "Security is already here, Mr. Thorne. And every guard on the roster works under local municipal contracts that your private sale would terminate tomorrow morning. Try calling dispatch."
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Samuel walked slowly past the table where millions in closing contracts lay stacked. He approached the mahogany wall behind the main podium. With steady fingers, he found a microscopic seam in the wood veneer and pressed inward. A concealed panel clicked forward, revealing an archaic, heavy-gauge steel dial—an analog fail-safe built before computer networks existed.
"You relied on digital passkeys you could hack or forge," Samuel said quietly. He turned to Clara. "Give me the compass, child."
