Chapter 9 - The Ghost in the System
The heavy steel door of the holding cell unlocked with a loud, mechanical clunk just as the news broadcast cut to a commercial break.
Leo stood in the doorway, his tie loosened and dark shadows staining the skin beneath his eyes, holding a small brown paper bag bearing a greasy diner logo.
"Agent Vance is tied up with the FAA," Leo said quietly, stepping inside and placing the bag on the small metal desk before leaning against the wall. "I managed to pull some fresh flight manifests from the private aviation hangar. You might want to see this."
Clara didn't touch the bag. She kept her arms crossed tightly over her chest, glaring at Leo with exhausted fury.
"You locked me in here for six hours while you knew I was being framed," Clara said, her voice trembling with restrained rage. "Marcus wasn't the victim. He was David's partner."
"We didn't know for sure until ten minutes ago when the hangar security footage was fully decrypted," Leo admitted, running a tired hand through his short brown hair. "Marcus Thorne was running a shell corporation out of the Cayman Islands. David wasn't his boss; David was his accountant."
"My husband told me he worked in corporate acquisitions," Clara whispered, the illusion of her marriage shattering completely into dust.
"Your husband hasn't worked in acquisitions in five years," Leo said softly, tossing a printed document onto the metal desk. "He’s been liquidating distressed tech startups for Thorne’s syndicate. And today was supposed to be their clean break."
Clara walked over to the desk and picked up the paper. It was a digital transfer log time-stamped just twelve minutes before she had walked into Marcus's SUV in the parking lot.
The funds weren't going to Zurich; they were being funneled into a domestic blind trust under a completely different name—a name Clara recognized instantly from her childhood neighborhood.
"My sister's maiden name," Clara breathed, her fingers clutching the paper so tightly it tore down the center. "Why is her name on this account?"
Before Leo could answer, the overhead lights in the holding facility flickered violently twice and then went completely black, plunging the entire floor into emergency red-lit darkness.
May you like
Outside in the hallway, an alarm began to wail—not the standard fire klaxon, but the high-pitched, piercing shriek of a high-security containment breach.
---
