Chapter 16 - Nineteen Floors Above the Street
Emergency lighting flooded the hallway in dim red.
Victoria did not move toward Rusk.
She moved sideways.
Training over instinct.
Cover before confrontation.
“Federal agent! Show me your hands!”
Rusk’s silhouette paused.
His right hand emerged from his coat.
Empty.
In his left was a phone.
“You’ve lost your mind, Cross,” he said.
Rachel stepped behind a concrete support column.
Bennett approached from the stairwell, weapon low but ready.
The building alarm began to pulse.
“Power failure,” Rusk said. “Put the gun away.”
Victoria had not drawn it.
That detail interested her.
“I never said I had a gun out.”
Rusk went silent.
Bennett looked at Victoria.
She raised one finger.
Wait.
The lights flickered back on.
Rusk stood twenty yards away.
Calm.
Immaculate.
Almost amused.
“I think this administrative review is over,” he said.
Victoria’s phone vibrated.
Hayes.
She answered.
“Security incident,” he said. “Someone remotely disabled floor nineteen’s power for thirty-eight seconds.”
“Source?”
“Unknown.”
Rusk walked toward the elevator.
Victoria watched him.
He stopped before entering.
“For your own sake, Agent Cross, learn the difference between suspicion and evidence.”
Then he disappeared behind the doors.
Bennett exhaled.
“I hate people who say things that sound guilty.”
Victoria agreed.
Unfortunately, sounding guilty was not a crime.
They needed proof.
Owen Price became their best chance.
He survived surgery.
Doctors expected recovery.
Federal marshals quietly took over hospital security without notifying Rusk’s office.
When Price woke the following afternoon, Victoria traveled to Milwaukee under Hayes’s direct authority.
Price looked fragile beneath the hospital lights.
Bruises covered one side of his face.
A breathing tube had been removed only hours earlier.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“Bell County.”
“You told them we were going.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Bennett shifted beside the door.
Victoria stayed seated.
“Why?”
Price’s voice cracked.
“They had my daughter.”
Victoria felt the anger leave her immediately.
Not the determination.
The anger.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago. She was driving home from Northwestern. State line near Wisconsin. An officer stopped her.”
His eyes filled.
“He sent me a photograph of her sitting on the shoulder.”
“Who?”
“Rusk.”
There it was.
Not suspicion.
Not implication.
A direct accusation.
Price continued.
“He said Blue Lantern had friends everywhere. If I cooperated, she would never know. If I didn’t, the next stop would end differently.”
“Did Rusk say he worked for Sorrell?”
“He said Sorrell worked for everyone.”
Victoria exchanged a glance with Hayes.
“Explain.”
“Blue Lantern isn’t one organization.”
Price struggled for breath.
“It’s a marketplace.”
The word chilled the room.
“Agencies use it for money. Politicians use it for pressure. Private clients use it for revenge. Sorrell coordinates the network, but Rusk protects it from federal scrutiny.”
“How long?”
“At least five years.”
“Why place the envelope in my office?”
Price swallowed.
“To scare you into reopening Caldwell’s case in the wrong direction.”
Victoria frowned.
“They wanted me investigating them?”
“They wanted you visible.”
Price stared at her.
“You were becoming famous after the trial. Every reporter followed your cases. They thought if they could frame you publicly, every investigation you touched would become contaminated.”
Hayes cursed under his breath.
Destroy Victoria.
Then use her collapse to discredit the prosecutions.
“How many people have been framed?” Victoria asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
“Jenna’s flash drive.”
Victoria immediately thought of Maria Torres.
Chicago.
Unprotected.
She stood.
“Rachel.”
Rachel was already dialing.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Victoria’s stomach tightened.
“Get someone to Maria’s apartment.”
Hayes called the Chicago office.
A team arrived eleven minutes later.
The apartment door was open.
Maria was gone.
There was no sign of violence.
No sign of forced entry.
Only a birthday card sat on the kitchen table.
Empty.
The flash drive was missing.
Victoria returned to Chicago before midnight.
Internal Inspection announced that Rusk had taken emergency medical leave.
His federal phone had been left inside his office.
His government vehicle sat in the garage.
He was gone.
So was Grant Sorrell.
Sorrell’s home outside Indianapolis had been emptied.
His office computers were wiped.
His private aircraft had not filed a flight plan.
Blue Lantern was evacuating.
At 1:17 a.m., Victoria’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man spoke.
His voice was smooth.
Older.
Confident.
“Agent Cross.”
She knew before he introduced himself.
“Grant Sorrell.”
He chuckled.
“You’re quicker than Caldwell.”
“Where is Maria Torres?”
“Safe.”
“Let me speak to her.”
“No.”
Victoria closed her office door.
“What do you want?”
“A correction.”
“To what?”
“To your understanding of the world.”
She said nothing.
Sorrell continued.
“You believe systems fail when corrupt people enter them. That’s childish. Systems work exactly as designed. People with leverage use people without it.”
“And you called to teach me philosophy?”
“I called because you have something I need.”
Victoria looked at the evidence photograph from the hidden warehouse.
“What?”
“Jenna.”
Her expression hardened.
“You’re not getting her.”
“Then Maria becomes a problem.”
Victoria’s voice became ice.
“You hurt her, there won’t be a county in five states where you can hide.”
Sorrell laughed softly.
“That sounds almost personal.”
“It’s a promise.”
There was a pause.
Then he said, “Tomorrow. Noon. You’ll receive instructions.”
The line disconnected.
Victoria looked through the glass wall of her office.
Hayes, Rachel, and Bennett were waiting.
She opened the door.
“He wants a trade.”
Hayes shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
“I know.”
Bennett asked, “Then what do we trade?”
Victoria looked at the evidence board.
“We give him exactly what men like Sorrell always believe they’re buying.”
“What’s that?”
May you like
She picked up the empty blue Coalition patch.
“Control.”
