Chapter 6 - The Cleaner’s Confession
Silas whimpered, his polished oxfords scrabbling for purchase on the slippery carpet as Caleb held him suspended against the glass. Through the transparent barrier, the city of Chicago sprawled below them like a miniature circuit board—the very empire Silas had attempted to carve for himself out of stolen millions and murder.
“Don't drop him, Mr. Voss,” a small voice rang out from the table.
Caleb froze. His breathing was heavy, his heart hammering with a lethal rage he hadn't felt in over a decade. He looked back over his shoulder.
Elsie was still sitting in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes were calm, solemn, and unblinking.
“Daddy said bad men want you to become bad like them,” Elsie said softly. “He said that’s how they win.”
Caleb stared at the little girl for three long seconds. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled Silas back from the edge and dropped him onto the floor like a sack of discarded laundry. Silas curled into a fetal position, gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat.
“Jonah,” Caleb commanded, turning his back on his former chief financial officer. “Bring Vance in.”
Jonah stepped out into the hallway and returned ten seconds later, shoving a burly, bearded man in a tactical jacket through the doorway. Vance was already in heavy steel handcuffs, his face bruised and swollen from a brief, violent interrogation that had taken place in the parking garage an hour earlier.
Vance took one look at Caleb, then at Silas whimpering on the carpet, and immediately collapsed to his knees.
“I didn't plan it, Mr. Voss!” Vance blurted out, terrified of what lay in store. “Silas paid me two hundred thousand in cash! He said the technician had stolen proprietary codes! He told me it was a clean company extraction!”
“You poured ethanol down a sober man’s throat,” Caleb said coldly, walking over to stand directly above the kneeling mercenary. “You cut the brake lines on his front passenger wheel to ensure the impact would be catastrophic when he hit the lower highway turn.”
“Silas gave the order!” Vance cried, pointing a trembling finger at the curled-up executive. “He supplied the car key bypass! He told me that if I didn't make it look like an accident, you’d have both of us buried in an Indiana landfill! I have the text messages, Mr. Voss! I saved the encrypted logs on an offshore cloud server! I’ll give you everything—every bank account, every phone number, every corrupt cop Silas paid off at the precinct!”
Caleb looked down at Silas, who was now sobbing quietly into the carpet.
“Where is the money, Silas?” Caleb asked.
May you like
Silas choked back a sob, his voice barely audible. “The... the Zurich account. Under the shell company name Aegis Dynamic. Four point two million. It’s all there. I haven't spent a cent of the principal... I just wanted to leave. I wanted to start my own firm in London.”
“You’re not going to London,” Caleb said. “You’re not even going to the penitentiary yet.”
