Plot

Chapter 6 - Blood on the Balance Sheet

The abandoned rectory of St. Jude’s stood between two modern glass high-rises on 48th Street, a gothic relic of black stone and boarded-up stained glass. Water poured from its broken copper gutters, splashing onto the weed-choked courtyard.

Dante kicked open the rotting wooden side door, leading Elena into the shadowy interior. The air inside smelled of mildew, old stone, and ancient dust. He flicked on a heavy tactical flashlight, its white beam cutting through the darkness to illuminate broken pews and peeling plaster.

""Downstairs,"" Elena said, pointing toward a heavy iron cellar door tucked behind the collapsed altar.

Dante approached the door, inspecting the lock. It wasn't an antique; it was a state-of-the-art commercial electronic keypad with an auxiliary biometric scanner.

""Vance gave me the override code,"" Elena said, stepping forward. She quickly punched in a twelve-digit alphanumeric sequence she had jotted in her notebook: 0-9-1-4-B-R-O-O-K-S-7-7.

She paused, her fingers hovering over the keypad. ""The code is Lucas's badge number and birthday.""

Dante's jaw hardened in disgust. ""Victor was mocking him. Even in his private vaults.""

The electronic lock clicked with a heavy, magnetic thud. Dante gripped the iron handle, pulling the heavy door open. A narrow flight of stone steps led down into a brightly lit, climate-controlled basement room that stood in stark contrast to the crumbling church above.

Inside, three server towers hummed softly on raised flooring. A heavy steel safe sat against the far brick wall.

Elena rushed to the central terminal, plugging her forensic scanner into the diagnostic port. Cascades of green text flickered across the screen as her hands flew across the mechanical keyboard with blistering speed.

""It’s all here,"" Elena gasped, her eyes scanning the directories. ""The routing logs for the offshore containers. The wire transfers to Vance's Cayman accounts. And..."" She stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

A video file appeared on the monitor. It was labeled Hudson_42_Surveillance.mp4.

Dante stepped beside her, placing a steady, grounding hand on her shoulder. ""You don't have to watch it, Elena.""

""I need to know,"" she whispered, her voice cracking.

She clicked play.

The grainy, black-and-white security footage showed the wet concrete apron of Pier 42 three years ago. Lucas Brooks was running toward his parked sedan, a stack of folders under his arm. Two men in dark raincoats cornered him near the edge of the bulkhead. A dark SUV rammed his vehicle from behind, shoving it dangerously close to the drop-off.

The driver of the SUV stepped out into the rain.

It was Victor Hale himself.

The video captured Victor striking Lucas across the temple with a heavy pipe before two men rolled Lucas’s limp body into the driver’s seat of the sedan, shifted the gear into neutral, and pushed the car over the edge into the churning black waters of the Hudson.

Tears streamed down Elena’s face, hot and silent. Her whole body shook with profound, devastating grief. Lucas hadn't stood a chance. He had died in the cold water alone, surrounded by strangers who treated his life like an inconvenient balance sheet error.

Dante felt a murderous rage flare deep in his chest, hot and blinding. He gently reached over, pulling the flash drive from the terminal once the data transfer completed, and pulled Elena into his arms.

She pressed her face against his chest, clutching the damp wool of his coat as she let out a choked sob. Dante wrapped his arms around her, sheltering her from the cold room, his hand resting on the back of her head.

""I have him now,"" Dante whispered fiercely into her hair. ""I swear to you, Elena. Lucas will have his day in court. He will have it today.""

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Elena took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling back and wiping her face with the sleeve of her coat. She picked up the flash drive, her hazel eyes burning with a fierce, unbreakable resolve.

""Let's go,"" she said, her voice completely steady now. ""We have twenty-two minutes to make it to Foley Square.""

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