Chapter 9
Marcus stepped out of the shadows, his eyes locked on the older man. The sight of Arthur alive and breathing confirmed every lingering suspicion he had harbored over the past six months. The staged warehouse fire had been a masterpiece of corporate evasion, designed to wipe Arthur's slate clean while leaving his pursuers chasing ghosts.
"You put a lot of people in danger, Arthur," Marcus said, keeping his voice low and controlled as he scanned the perimeter of the warehouse for hidden threats. "And you used a child to deliver the message. That crosses a line, even for you."
Arthur let out a dry, hacking cough, pressing a handkerchief to his mouth before tucking it back into his pocket. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Marcus. You think I wanted to involve a little girl? My options were limited. The board’s internal security has been hunting me across three states. I couldn't risk electronic communication, and I couldn't trust anyone else in the city."
Claire stepped forward, her expression a mix of fury and relief. "Cut the dramatics, Arthur. Where are the backups? The financial records, the environmental reports—where are they?"
Arthur gestured toward a battered metal toolbox sitting atop the steel drum. "They're right here. Every transaction, every offshore account, every signature authorizing the dumping in the river district. It’s all on a heavily encrypted flash drive."
Marcus approached the toolbox slowly, his instincts screaming that this was a trap. "Why give them to us? If you have this kind of leverage, why not auction it off to the highest bidder or hand it directly to federal prosecutors?"
"Because prosecutors can be bought, and bidders usually end up floating in the river," Arthur said bluntly. "I'm giving them to you two because you're already implicated. You helped build this machine. If the company goes down, you go down with it unless you control the narrative. This drive is your insurance policy—and mine."
Claire reached for the toolbox, but Marcus caught her wrist, stopping her mid-motion. He turned to Arthur, his eyes narrowing. "There's a catch. There's always a catch with you, Arthur. What do you want in exchange for the drive?"
May you like
Arthur smiled, a tired, humorless expression. "I want out, Marcus. A clean passport, a ticket out of the country, and five million dollars transferred to an untraceable account by sunrise. Once the funds clear, I vanish permanently, and the drive is entirely yours to do with as you please."
Before Marcus could answer, a sharp sound echoed from the far end of the warehouse—the metallic scrape of a heavy door being forced open.
