Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the MachineBack at the Bannon estate, the atmosphere inside the cavernous oak-paneled study resembled a war room.
Malcolm Bannon sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his silver-white hair unbrushed, his face lined with fury. At seventy-one, he still possessed the terrifying physical presence that had allowed him to conquer the New England waterfronts in the 1980s.
Patrick paced the Persian rug, his hands shaking as he held a cold cup of coffee. "Dad, this is insane! Jillian is my wife. She panicked because you had six enforcers standing in the hallway! You terrified her!"
"I terrified her?" Malcolm’s voice was a low, gravelly rumble that made the crystal decanters on the sideboard vibrate. "She sprinted out of my house like a criminal carrying state secrets! And she left with Emmett Carbone's vehicle!"
"She didn't plan it!" Patrick shouted, finally snapping under the accumulated grief of losing his brother and the sudden disintegration of his marriage. "She ran blindly! She didn't know whose car she was getting into!"
"People in our position don't run blindly, Patrick," Malcolm snarled, slamming his fist onto the desk. "She knew exactly what she was doing, or someone put her up to it. Shawn’s safe deposit box at the bank was emptied three days ago. And his home office computer was wiped clean of its local drive."
Dean, Patrick’s cousin, stepped forward from the shadows of the doorway. "Uncle Malcolm. We checked the security logs from Shawn's house. Cody was the last person seen in that study before the funeral. He spent four hours in there 'organizing his uncle's old art supplies.'"
Patrick stopped pacing. He stared at Dean as if he had grown a second head. "Cody? Are you out of your mind? He’s a sixteen-year-old kid who spends all his time drawing cartoons!"
"Artists see patterns, Patrick," Malcolm said coldly. "Shawn taught that boy how to code when he was twelve years old. He taught him how to read balance sheets as if they were visual puzzles. If Cody has that thumb drive..." Malcolm paused, his eyes narrowing into slits. "If Cody has the ledger, he holds the keys to the entire family fortune. And worse—he holds the evidence that can put every single one of us away for life."
"He's your grandson!" Patrick yelled, his voice cracking.
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"He is a Bannon," Malcolm corrected, standing up to his full height. "And a Bannon protects the family above all else. If he has aligned himself with Emmett Carbone, he has committed treason."
Malcolm turned to Dean. "Mobilize the teams. Every dock, every safehouse, every highway exit between here and the Pennsylvania border. I want Jillian found. And I want Cody brought back to this house tonight. Do whatever it takes."
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