Chapter 5 - The Red Dot
Malcolm woke inside a different hospital.
There was no room number on the door.
No public directory.
No uniformed local police officers.
A federal agent sat outside twenty-four hours a day.
Rachel Mercer entered that afternoon.
“You're officially dead.”
Malcolm blinked.
“That's inconvenient.”
She smiled faintly.
“The public record says complications from your injuries forced an emergency transfer. Your location is sealed.”
“Voss?”
“Federal custody.”
“Talking?”
“No.”
“Dayne?”
“Missing.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
Mercer pulled up a chair.
“We searched his house.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Professionally cleaned. Computers removed. Documents gone.”
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Who warned him?”
“We're investigating.”
Malcolm looked at her.
“You don't trust your own people.”
Mercer didn't answer.
That frightened him.
Then she placed several photographs on the table.
Business owners.
Police officers.
Bank executives.
A city contractor.
And one photograph Malcolm recognized.
Samuel Ortiz.
“What happened to Sam?”
“He disappeared yesterday.”
Malcolm stared at her.
“He's a witness?”
“We believe he handled collections before trying to leave the operation.”
Malcolm remembered the blood running from Samuel's nose.
“He wasn't paying them.”
Mercer shook her head.
“He was working for them.”
The revelation hit Malcolm hard.
Nothing was as simple as it had seemed.
“Why tell me?”
“Because Samuel left something.”
Mercer placed a key on the table.
A bus-station locker key.
Malcolm recognized the number.
117.
Route 17.
“He wanted me to find it.”
“We think so.”
Federal agents searched the locker.
Inside was an old backpack.
Inside the backpack were three accounting ledgers, two encrypted drives, photographs, and a handwritten list.
The list contained forty-three names.
At the top:
ELIAS DAYNE.
Below him were officers, attorneys, business owners, contractors, and two hospital administrators.
Mercer stared at the list.
Then she reached the final name.
Her face went pale.
Malcolm noticed.
“Who?”
Mercer folded the paper.
“Someone I know.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Deputy Director Conrad Hale.”
Malcolm didn't recognize the name.
“He's federal?”
“He supervises regional organized-crime investigations.”
Malcolm understood.
The leak.
Dayne hadn't merely infiltrated the police department.
He had protection inside the federal system.
Mercer stood.
“We cannot enter this evidence into the normal database.”
“Because Hale will see it.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
Mercer looked at Malcolm.
“We stop trusting the system.”
Malcolm almost laughed.
“Welcome to my neighborhood.”
Over the next forty-eight hours, Mercer assembled a tiny team.
Only four people.
Ruiz.
Forensic accountant Naomi Bell.
Prosecutor Rebecca Shaw.
And Mercer.
No electronic case files.
No department emails.
Everything stayed offline.
The ledgers revealed years of extortion.
Millions of dollars.
Protection payments.
Evidence theft.
Illegal seizures.
Bribes.
But one entry appeared repeatedly.
M.P.H. 408
Mercer stared at it.
Mercy Point Hospital.
Room 408.
It wasn't coincidence.
Malcolm had been placed there deliberately.
Someone inside the hospital had assigned him to a room accessible through a poorly monitored service corridor.
His murder had been planned before Voss entered the building.
And the person who arranged it was still free.
Naomi Bell traced payments from a shell company to Mercy Point's deputy administrator.
Then another payment.
Then another.
Mercer obtained a sealed warrant.
The administrator was arrested leaving home.
Within three hours, he began talking.
Dayne's network was collapsing.
But the biggest revelation came last.
“Where is Dayne?” Mercer asked.
The administrator swallowed.
“I don't know.”
“Who does?”
“Hale.”
Mercer leaned forward.
“What is Dayne planning?”
The man looked terrified.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Dayne isn't running.”
Mercer went still.
“What?”
“He's cleaning.”
“Cleaning what?”
“Witnesses.”
Malcolm Avery wasn't the final name on Dayne's list.
There were eleven others.
May you like
And one of them was Malcolm's daughter.
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