“I don’t know.”
He crouched beside a muddy footprint.
“Someone was searching, not stealing.”
“For what?”
Silas looked toward the floor.
A thin trail of plaster dust led from the workshop to the basement stairs.
“For whatever your husband found beneath the theater.”
Chapter Four
The Tunnel Below
Silas brought three security officers into the building before Evelyn could object.
She objected anyway.
“I am not turning the Lyric into a military compound.”
“The lock was forced.”
“We can call the police.”
“The police will write a report.”
“That is generally what police do.”
“They will not protect you.”
“And your armed employees will?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Mara Quinn arrived twenty minutes later wearing a raincoat over a navy suit. She was in her forties, with cropped copper hair and an expression of permanent skepticism.
She shook Evelyn’s hand.
“We met once,” Mara said. “At the summer festival. You were dressed as a pirate queen.”
“I was twenty.”
“You threatened a councilman with a wooden sword.”
“He deserved it.”
“I liked you immediately.”
Silas looked impatient. “The basement.”
Mara’s mouth twitched. “Still giving orders before saying hello.”
They descended behind the stage.
The basement smelled of wet stone, dust, and ancient machinery. Narrow corridors passed beneath dressing rooms and storage areas. Evelyn led them to the boiler room.
A section of brickwork behind the largest pipe had been disturbed.
Silas touched the mortar.
“Recent.”
“Daniel did that,” Evelyn said. “At least some of it.”
Mara used a flashlight to examine the wall.
“There is empty space behind these bricks.”
Silas removed his coat and handed it to Evelyn.
She stared at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Hold it.”
“I am not your coat stand.”
“You are also not wearing gloves.”
Before she could reply, he took a crowbar from a maintenance shelf and forced it between two loosened bricks.
The wall gave way faster than expected.
Dust rolled into the room.
Behind the bricks stood a narrow iron door.
Evelyn’s breath caught.
A circular symbol had been stamped into the metal: a rook chess piece above three waves.
Silas and Mara exchanged a look.
“What does that mean?” Evelyn asked.
“Julian’s companies use the rook,” Silas said.
“He told you the tunnel belonged to your organization.”
Silas looked at her. “How did you know there was a tunnel?”
“You asked what was beneath the theater. Your face answered before your mouth did.”
Mara gave Silas an approving glance. “I definitely like her.”
The iron door was locked.
Silas motioned to one of the security officers, who produced a compact set of tools.
Evelyn watched the man work.
“You carry lock picks?”
“Insurance equipment,” he replied.
“That is not what insurance means.”
The lock opened.
Beyond the door, stone steps descended into darkness.
Cold air rose from below.
Mara went first, followed by two officers. Silas gestured for Evelyn to remain behind.
She stepped past him.
“This is my theater.”
“It may not be safe.”
“Then walk in front of me.”
His jaw tightened, but he obeyed.
The steps ended in a brick tunnel wide enough for two men to walk side by side. Rusted rails ran along the floor. Old electric cables had been replaced recently.
They followed the passage for fifty yards before reaching a storage chamber.
Wooden crates lined the walls.
Silas pried open the nearest one.
Inside were antique bronze statues packed in foam.
Evelyn leaned closer. “Those belong to the Saint Orlan Museum.”
Mara checked another crate.
Paintings.
Ceremonial masks.
Gold coins sealed in plastic sleeves.
“Stolen art,” she said.
Silas’s face turned unreadable.
A folding table stood in the center of the chamber. On it lay shipping documents, customs stamps, and a map of Greyhaven’s underground passages.
Mara photographed everything.
Evelyn picked up a clipboard.
The top page listed dates, cargo numbers, and initials.
D.H.
Her stomach dropped.
“Daniel.”
Silas took the clipboard.
“He recorded the shipments.”
“He helped them.”
“Or documented them.”
“Do not turn him into an innocent man because you want me to feel better.”
“I am not.”
“You erased his debt.”
Silas looked at her sharply.
“You know?”
“The lender sent a revised statement. The principal was marked as satisfied through an external settlement.”
“It was the fastest method.”
“You paid everything.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“It does not matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Three hundred and twelve thousand.”
Evelyn stared at him.
The tunnel seemed to tilt.
“You paid more than three hundred thousand pounds without telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the debt was designed to take this building, not recover money.”