Chapter 67
Protection Without Permission
My first instinct is to lock every door between Mira and the person who threatened the council.
That instinct is exactly why I do not act on it.
I sit across from her in Camille's office the next morning while Marisol Vega arranges four printed call logs on the conference table. Camille has disabled the room's video system and recorded the decision in writing. No one from corporate security knows the witnesses' names yet.
"Three council candidates received calls," Marisol says. "Two on personal numbers, one at home. The language was similar, but not identical. That suggests a script rather than a recording."
Mira's hands remain steady around a paper cup. "Were children present?"
"Not for the calls. One caller referred to a family member's weekend schedule, which is enough to treat this as targeted intimidation."
Anger settles behind my ribs, cold and exact. I could put a security team outside every witness's house before lunch, then have park investigators pull access logs and vendor records. Calling Jonah into my office would let me watch his face when I place the transcripts in front of him.
Each option would feel productive. Each would contaminate the process.
"I can authorize protective coverage today," I say. "Unmarked vehicles, rotating personnel, no contact unless requested."
Mira turns to Marisol instead of answering me. "What is the protocol when a company employee or contractor may be involved?"
The question stings for half a second. Then I understand what she is doing. She is not rejecting help. She is refusing to let the person with the largest title define it.
Marisol slides a blank page from her folder. "The witnesses choose a point of contact. We preserve reports outside company systems. Any security provider signs a limited-scope agreement and cannot share movements, names, or interviews with Wondervale without individual consent."
"Corporate security can do that," I say.
Camille clears her throat. "In theory."
I look at her. "And in practice?"
She opens a personnel chart. "The vice president of corporate security is Martin Kessler. Before Wondervale hired him, he spent nine years at Reed Risk Logistics. Jonah was an investor and advisory director. The relationship is disclosed, but no one flagged it because Kessler does not oversee procurement."
I read the page twice. The second reading does not make it better.
"He oversees internal investigations," Mira says.
"Yes," Camille replies.
"Including leaks."
"Yes."
I push back from the table. "Then he is suspended from this matter."
Marisol's gaze sharpens. "On what authority and based on what evidence?"
"On my authority as director and the obvious conflict in front of us."
"Removing him now may alert whoever made the calls. It could also turn a protected labor complaint into an executive feud."
I hate that she is right. I hate more that I nearly repeated the same mistake with cleaner motives.
Mira reaches for the blank protocol. "Can the council select an outside firm?"
"Yes," Marisol says. "The company can pay into a legal trust without choosing the provider."
"That means I would have no operational access," I say.
Mira meets my eyes. There is no accusation in her expression. "That is the point."
Once, I would have heard distance in those words. Today I hear structure.
"Agreed," I say. "The council chooses. Wondervale funds the account, waives reimbursement claims against protected witnesses, and receives only aggregate billing."
Marisol adds the terms in blue ink. "No location data."
"No location data."
"No reports to your office unless a witness authorizes disclosure or there is an immediate safety emergency."
"Agreed."
Camille watches me sign the authorization. "I will document Kessler's recusal without naming the complaint."
Mira places her hand over mine after I set down the pen. The touch is brief and hidden by the folder between us.
"Thank you," she says.
"You should not have to thank me for respecting a boundary."
"I am thanking you for making the correct decision while you are furious. That is different."
The pressure in my chest eases. Practical care, I am learning, is not measured by how much control I can seize. Sometimes it is measured by how much I can surrender without disappearing.
We spend the next hour interviewing providers from Marisol's approved list. Mira asks about disability access and language coverage. Camille asks about evidence storage. I ask whether any bidder has worked for Vale Corporation, Jonah, Kessler, or our major vendors.
The council selects Harbor Shield, a small firm led by a former municipal investigator. Its director, Ana Solis, joins by encrypted call. She promises a response team within ninety minutes and gives each witness a direct number that bypasses dispatch.
Before we end the call, Ana asks to speak with the witnesses herself. She does not promise that every risk can be removed. She explains how they can decline a guard, change an escort, or end coverage without asking Wondervale. Priya chooses check-in calls and an escort for council meetings. Another candidate requests a patrol near his house but refuses anyone at his workplace. Their different answers make the arrangement feel real in a way my original blanket order never could.
"We also need to decide how to classify the report," Marisol says. "The calls were intended to influence elected worker and community representatives. That makes them potential retaliation connected to protected organizing."
Camille nods. "Once filed that way, records cannot be routed through ordinary corporate review."
"File it," Mira says.
I sign the employer acknowledgment beneath her council signature. The complaint moves beyond my ability to close, rewrite, or privately settle it.
An irreversible fact, recorded by people I cannot order to forget.
After the meeting, Mira and I wait beside the elevators. Her shoulder brushes my arm.
"You wanted to send guards to my house," she says.
"I wanted to send guards to every house on the list."
"And probably put Jonah in a basement."
"I do not own a basement suitable for interrogation."
She gives me a look.
"That was a joke," I say.
"A troubling one."
"I am working on range."
The elevator arrives, but she does not step inside. "I want someone at the studio tonight, chosen by the council. That choice belongs to me."
"Understood."
"And I want you there for dinner, if you can come without turning the meal into an operations briefing."
"That may be the more difficult assignment."
Her smile is tired but real. She rises onto her toes and kisses my cheek before entering the elevator.
I return to Camille's office with a calmer mind and a narrower task: find lawful information that belongs to the company, without touching protected witness files.
Marisol is still packing her case when her phone vibrates. She reads the message, then closes the door.
"Harbor Shield completed an emergency trace on one of the calls," she says. "The witness consented in writing."
"Where did it originate?"
"A commercial voice service. The subscriber used a corporate purchasing card."
Mira's name flashes on my phone. I answer and put her on speaker with permission.
"Tell us," she says.
Marisol turns the screen toward us. The purchaser is not an employee. It is a contractor called Northstar Guest Solutions, approved eighteen months ago to provide temporary call-center staff during peak seasons.
I know the name. I saw it last night on the vendor list Nico sent me with his warning not to trust him yet.
"Northstar has six active contracts with Wondervale," I say.
Marisol scrolls to the account authorization.
"All approved through procurement," she replies.