Chapter 4: A Ghost from the Past
The phone rang four times before a raspy, sleep-thickened voice answered with a curt, suspicious greeting. "If this is a telemarketer, I’m hanging up." Marcus Reed sounded exhausted, the cadence of his voice carrying the distinct weariness of a man who had fought too many losing battles against corporate legal teams. "Marcus," Elena said softly, her voice cutting through the static of the line. "It’s Elena Vance. Or rather, Elena Sterling. I need twenty minutes of your time, and I have the files on Halyyon Medical that you’ve been chasing for the last three years." Complete silence stretched across the line for five agonizing seconds, followed by the sound of rustling bedsheets and a sharp intake of breath. "Where are you?" Marcus asked, his sleepiness instantly replaced by razor-sharp professional adrenaline. "A diner in Chelsea, but I was just followed," Elena replied, her eyes scanning the dark mouth of the alleyway. "Meet me at the 24-hour reading room of the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue in forty minutes. Come alone, and don't use a cab that can be tracked." She clicked the phone shut before he could ask any more questions, stepping out from the alley and blending seamlessly into the pre-dawn foot traffic of waking commuters. The rain had cleared, leaving the pavement slick and gleaming beneath the amber streetlamps. She walked briskly toward the subway station, keeping her head down, her mustard yellow blouse concealed beneath a dark wool overcoat she had grabbed from the diner's coat rack in a moment of opportunistic survival. When she arrived at the grand steps of the library, the magnificent stone lions loomed silently in the gray dawn light. Marcus was already there, leaning against a granite pillar, smoking a cigarette despite the municipal signs prohibiting it. He looked older than she remembered, his hair prematurely gray and his trench coat frayed at the cuffs, but his eyes were bright with a familiar, predatory intelligence. He spotted her immediately, stubbing out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe and stepping forward. "Is it real?" Marcus asked without preamble, his gaze darting to the heavy leather tote bag clutched in her arms. "Every single page, every offshore account, every falsified trial result," Elena answered, her voice steady and resolute. Marcus let out a low whistle, a mix of awe and dread crossing his weathered face. "If Arthur Vance finds out you gave this to me, you won't just lose your settlement, Elena. They’ll bury you so deep you’ll never see daylight again." Elena offered a thin, tired smile, remembering the taste of blood on her lip from Julian's hand. "They already tried, Marcus. Now it’s my turn to return the favor."
