Chapter 11 – The Chase
Chapter 11 – The Chase
The flames reached the roof of Ashford Manor's west wing before Daniel's car even turned through the iron gates.
Orange light swallowed the night.
Smoke poured from broken basement windows, carrying with it the smell of burning paper, ancient wood, and oil paint.
The hidden archive.
Charles Ashford's life's work.
Everything that had survived twenty-five years of lies.
It was disappearing in front of Daniel's eyes.
"No..."
He slammed the car door before it had fully stopped.
"Get everyone out!"
Firefighters were already battling the blaze.
Massive hoses sent torrents of water against the burning walls, but the fire seemed strangely concentrated.
Almost controlled.
Detective Michael Cross looked toward the basement windows.
"This isn't spreading naturally."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone wanted one room destroyed."
Daniel understood immediately.
"The archive."
An exhausted firefighter ran toward them.
"We've searched the main floor."
"The servants are safe."
"What about the basement?"
The firefighter hesitated.
"The passage behind the portrait..."
"...was sealed from the inside."
Daniel's heart skipped.
"Someone's still down there."
Without waiting for permission, Daniel ran into the mansion.
Cross cursed under his breath.
"Damn it."
He followed with two officers.
Smoke filled the grand ballroom.
The magnificent family portrait had fallen from the wall, exposing the steel doorway behind it.
Except...
The doorway had been jammed shut with heavy iron chains.
Daniel grabbed a fire axe from the wall.
He swung once.
Twice.
Three times.
The chains snapped.
The steel door groaned open.
A wave of black smoke exploded from the passage.
The hidden corridor was an oven.
Heat shimmered against the concrete walls.
Pieces of burning timber crashed from the ceiling.
Cross grabbed Daniel's arm.
"You've got three minutes."
"No more."
Daniel nodded.
They rushed forward.
When they reached the archive, flames already consumed half the room.
Bookshelves collapsed one after another.
Centuries of family history turned to ash.
Yet something caught Daniel's attention.
One shelf...
Was untouched.
Not by accident.
By design.
The fire had burned around it.
Daniel hurried toward it.
Behind the shelf was another narrow door.
Barely visible.
Charles Ashford had hidden a second chamber inside the archive itself.
Cross stared.
"Your grandfather really trusted no one."
Daniel forced the door open.
The room beyond was surprisingly untouched.
Cold.
Dry.
No smoke.
It contained only a desk.
Three chairs.
And an old film projector already running.
The projector clicked rhythmically.
A reel spun slowly.
Projecting an image onto the far wall.
Daniel froze.
Charles Ashford looked back at him.
Alive.
It wasn't a photograph.
It was a film.
Charles adjusted his jacket, then looked directly into the camera.
"If you are watching this..."
"...then I am gone."
Daniel's throat tightened.
His grandfather seemed almost alive.
"I made this recording because paper burns."
He smiled faintly.
"But truth survives."
Charles continued.
"There is something every Ashford must understand."
"Our greatest enemy was never outside this family."
"It was greed."
The image flickered.
"I trusted the wrong people."
"I believed friendship could not be purchased."
"I was wrong."
Cross checked his watch.
"We have to go."
Daniel shook his head.
"Thirty more seconds."
Charles leaned closer to the camera.
"If Sebastian Blackwell is still alive..."
"...he will not be alone."
"He never works without protection."
"And if James Holloway betrayed me..."
"He did not do it willingly."
Daniel frowned.
"What?"
Charles continued.
"I discovered something neither of them wanted me to know."
"I confronted James."
"He confessed."
"He owed Sebastian more than money."
The projector crackled.
"He owed him..."
"...his brother's life."
Daniel looked toward Cross.
"Thomas."
The detective nodded.
"Thomas Holloway."
The supposedly dead brother.
Charles spoke again.
"Thomas disappeared because Sebastian staged his death."
"He used Thomas to control James."
"As long as Thomas remained alive..."
"James obeyed."
Daniel remembered the burned man rescued from the warehouse.
Thomas.
Alive.
After twenty-eight years.
Suddenly, the projector stopped.
The film reel snapped.
The room went dark.
A violent explosion shook the archive.
The ceiling cracked.
Cross grabbed Daniel.
"NOW!"
They sprinted toward the exit as flames swallowed the hidden chamber.
Behind them, the projector exploded.
Charles Ashford's final message disappeared forever.
As they reached the passage, Daniel heard something.
A cough.
Weak.
Barely audible.
He turned his flashlight toward the far end of the corridor.
Someone lay beneath a fallen beam.
Cross shouted,
"Daniel!"
But Daniel was already running.
The figure tried to move.
Failed.
Daniel lifted the burning timber with the help of an officer.
Underneath lay an elderly man covered in soot.
His face was bruised.
His clothes torn.
Daniel stared.
"No..."
It was James Holloway.
The real James.
James struggled to breathe.
"They..."
His voice broke.
"They found me."
Cross knelt beside him.
"Who?"
James coughed violently.
"Sebastian..."
Daniel leaned closer.
"Where is he?"
James grabbed Daniel's wrist with surprising strength.
"Not..."
"...Sebastian."
Daniel frowned.
"What?"
James's eyes filled with regret.
"You've been hunting..."
"...the wrong man."
Another explosion echoed through the basement.
The walls shook violently.
Cross and the officers carried James toward the exit.
They barely escaped before the hidden archive collapsed behind them.
The entire underground chamber disappeared beneath tons of burning stone.
Outside, paramedics rushed James onto a stretcher.
He was conscious—but fading fast.
Daniel climbed into the ambulance beside him.
"Stay with me."
James managed a faint smile.
"I've..."
"...lied..."
"...for too long."
Cross leaned in.
"Who ordered all of this?"
James slowly lifted a trembling hand.
Not toward the mansion.
Not toward the burning archive.
Toward the crowd gathered behind the police barricades.
Daniel followed his finger.
Hundreds of people stood watching the fire.
Firefighters.
Police officers.
Reporters.
Servants.
Guests.
James pointed at one person.
A woman wearing a dark coat and wide-brimmed hat.
The moment Daniel turned to look...
She smiled.
Then disappeared into the crowd.
James whispered his final words before losing consciousness.
"It was never..."
"...Sebastian."
"It was..."
The heart monitor screamed.
A flat line echoed through the ambulance.
James Holloway was dead.
And the name of the true mastermind...
Died with him.
Daniel looked through the ambulance window.
The mysterious woman was gone.
But something remained on the wet pavement where she had been standing.
A silver brooch.
Shaped like...
May you like
A lion.
End of Chapter 11
