Chapter 11
The heavy diesel engine of the delivery truck idled with a deep, vibrating thrum that echoed off the concrete pillars of the underground parking garage. The side panels of the vehicle bore the generic logo of a regional linen supply company, but the tires were caked in thick, reddish mud that didn't match any street within a fifty-mile radius.
Agent Vance immediately dropped his hand to his sidearm, stepping in front of Marcus. "Hold your position. That vehicle isn't registered with the building's logistics manifest."
The driver's door of the delivery truck creaked open, and a man in a stained blue mechanic's uniform stepped down onto the concrete. He kept his hands visible, palms facing outward, but his eyes darted nervously toward the security cameras mounted overhead.
"Are you Marcus?" the mechanic asked, his voice strained and quiet above the noise of the idling diesel engine.
Marcus stepped past Vance, cautious but resolute. "Depends who's asking."
The mechanic reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small, battered USB flash drive, holding it between two fingers. "The guy who hired me to tow your truck this morning—he didn't want it impounded. He wanted it dismantled."
Vance narrowed his eyes. "Who hired you? Give me a name."
"I don't know his name," the mechanic said, taking a nervous step closer. "He paid me in cash—ten grand upfront—to hook the blue Chevrolet and dump it at the county scrapyard before noon. But when I saw the news broadcast about the federal raid... I realized I was holding evidence in a federal conspiracy."
Marcus reached out and took the flash drive from the mechanic's trembling hand. The casing was warm, as if it had been plugged into a running terminal only moments before.
"What's on this?" Marcus asked.
May you like
"The full transaction history of the property buyouts," the mechanic replied quickly, glancing over his shoulder toward the ramp. "And the encrypted kill-switch codes for every municipal database in the tri-county area. If you don't plug it into the truck's onboard computer within ten minutes, the entire network auto-erases."
Before Vance could ask another question, the overhead lights in the parking garage flickered once, twice, and then cut out entirely, plunging the entire lower level into pitch blackness.
