The Fixer Moves

Chapter 135: The Fixer Moves The knock came at 10:30 p.m., three sharp raps while Catherine Thorne's testimony still glowed on Leah's laptop, twelve pages of confession not yet protected by counsel. Leah did not move toward the door first. She reached under the kitchen table for the pepper spray Viktor had given her and checked the peephole with her other hand. A woman stood in the hallway in a navy blazer, auburn hair pinned back, hands visible, face trained into federal calm. Not Martha. Not Pemberton. Something with a badge, which could be worse. Leah opened the door six inches and kept the chain on. "Ms. Marsh?" the woman said. "Victoria Salcedo. New York State Attorney General's Office, Charities Bureau. I'd like to speak with you regarding the Thorne Foundation." "Credentials." Salcedo produced a badge and card without offense. The badge looked real. The card used standard AG letterhead. Real did not mean safe. Pemberton did not need to forge an office if he could aim one. "This would be more productive in private," Salcedo said. Leah weighed the hallway, the chain, the laptop behind her, the testimony file Catherine had risked everything to create. Refusing a legitimate state attorney would look like fear. Letting her in could be a trap with polished shoes. She removed the chain. "Five minutes." Salcedo entered like someone trained to notice exits before furniture. She waited until Leah sat before taking the chair opposite the kitchen table. Her eyes flicked once to the laptop, not long enough to be rude, long enough to prove she had seen it. "I'll be direct," Salcedo said. "Our office has received documentation alleging systematic financial irregularities at the Thorne Foundation: below-threshold grant payments, Program-Related Investment abuse, possible self-dealing between the Foundation and Thorne Group subsidiaries. We've also received material tied to NexGen Therapeutics and the SEC inquiry." Leah kept her face still. "Who sent it?" "I can't disclose sources. I can say the documentation is comprehensive and appears credible." Comprehensive could mean Kevin Marsh. It could mean Paul Kerrigan. It could mean Ethan's team. It could also mean Pemberton had delivered selected documents in a clean envelope, enough to start an investigation and not enough to expose the hand holding the knife. "Why are you here for me?" "Your name appears in several grant-reconciliation and clinical-analysis records. Chesapeake Management Consulting. Thorne Group. You had access to files now relevant to our inquiry." Salcedo folded her hands. "We want to understand what you've observed." "I've observed irregularities. I've documented them in working files and submitted them through my supervisor." "Have you submitted documentation to any external party?" There it was. Not accusation. Not yet. A narrow bridge over deep water. If Leah said yes, she admitted unauthorized disclosure. If she said no too broadly, she lied to a state official. "I've discussed observations with colleagues in the ordinary course of work," Leah said. "I haven't made a formal external submission." Salcedo nodded as if she had expected the sidestep and respected its construction. "Ms. Marsh, voluntary cooperation is treated more favorably than compelled testimony. If you have information that could assist a state investigation, now is the time to decide how you want to participate." "With counsel." "Of course." Salcedo set a card on the table. "My direct line. Day or night." Leah did not touch it. "Is your investigation limited to Foundation finances, or does it extend to the Thorne family's personal conduct?" For less than a second, Salcedo hesitated. It was the first unscripted thing she had done. "At this time, Foundation finances," she said. "But investigations expand." The answer changed the air in the room. Leah heard Catherine's voice from the testimony draft: Martha told me they were dead. Pemberton brought papers. Richard started to doubt. Foundation finances were the door. Personal conduct was the room behind it. Salcedo stood, then paused at the door. "I'm not the only person who will knock in the coming weeks. The SEC is building its case. The FBI may become involved if funds crossed state lines. Civil parties and journalists will try to reach you. Be careful who you talk to and what you say. The people behind this have resources most people can't imagine." "I know." "Do you?" Salcedo studied her. "I've investigated charities, corporations, and political operations for eleven years. The Thorne Foundation case is the most complex I've seen. And you, a junior analyst with a Georgetown degree, keep appearing near the center. That's either coincidence, or something else." Leah held her gaze. "I'm doing my job." Salcedo's smile was small and cold. "That's what everyone says until the job changes." After the door closed, Leah locked all three locks and stood with one hand flat against the wood until her breathing steadied. Then she picked up the card. The paper was ordinary. The number was not. It was the first official line into a case Martha had tried to keep private for twenty-four years. Leah called Ethan. "Salcedo was here," she said. "AG Charities Bureau. She knows Foundation irregularities, NexGen, my name, and enough to suspect I'm not just a junior analyst." "Pemberton's vehicle?" Ethan asked. "Maybe. Or a true believer he pointed in the right direction." "Those are not mutually exclusive." "No." Leah looked at Catherine's testimony on the laptop. "The timeline collapsed. I wanted simultaneous filing after the case was perfect. But the AG is moving, the SEC is moving, Sebastian is exposed, and Pemberton knows. Waiting isn't strategy anymore. It's reaction." "Then we change posture," Ethan said. "We stop being guerrillas. We file through counsel. Reinhardt's statement, Alvarez's box, Catherine's testimony, cabinet four, Foundation payment records. We give the AG and SEC the same packet under a protective framework." "That makes us witnesses." "It makes the evidence harder to kill." Leah turned the AG card between her fingers. Guerrillas could vanish. Witnesses could be subpoenaed, discredited, attacked in daylight. But witnesses could also force institutions to move. "Tomorrow I finish Catherine's statement," she said. "You arrange counsel. Thursday we review the packet and decide what goes first." "Thursday," Ethan said. Then, softer, "Leah, Pemberton knows. If he hasn't acted yet, it's because he's choosing the cleanest way." "Then we file before he chooses." She ended the call and returned to the laptop. Outside the window, Midtown burned with ordinary light. Somewhere behind that grid, Pemberton was planning, Sebastian was calculating, and Martha Thorne still believed every thread led back to her hand. Leah opened a new folder and named it FILING PACKET. Then she dragged Catherine's draft testimony into it first.