Chapter 7 - Trust No One
The ventilation shaft opened into the quiet rear alley of an old police precinct building.
Marcus dropped quietly onto a pile of discarded cardboard boxes, catching his breath in the freezing rain.
He needed a secure terminal and someone who still held legal authority in this corrupt city.
He slipped through the basement service door, using an old security bypass code he remembered from his training days.
He made his way up the unlit emergency staircase toward the second-floor homicide bureau.
Detective James Miller sat alone at his cluttered wooden desk, staring at a computer screen displaying Marcus's mugshot.
Miller was Marcus's former military partner and the only man who had ever saved his life in combat.
Marcus stepped out of the shadow of the doorway and held up his bare hands.
"Don't shoot, Jim," Marcus whispered, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
Detective Miller jumped up from his chair, his hand instinctively snapping to his sidearm holster.
"Marcus? Are you completely out of your mind coming into a precinct building?" Miller gasped in shock.
"They have every officer in three counties looking for you right now," Miller added, keeping his hand on his holster.
"I didn't kill Reed, Jim," Marcus said, taking a slow step toward the desk.
"Eleanor set the whole thing up; she handed me this drive before the lobby raid," Marcus explained, holding out the drive.
Miller stared at the metallic drive in Marcus's hand, his expression softening slightly.
"Put it on the desk and step back, Marcus," Miller said, reaching into his desk drawer for an encrypted reader.
Marcus placed the flash drive on the wooden desk surface and took three steps backward.
Miller plugged the drive into his desktop monitor and began typing rapid commands into the terminal.
A list of encrypted bank routing numbers and corporate wire transfers spilled across the screen.
Miller's face suddenly went completely emotionless as he looked up from the glowing monitor.
"You really shouldn't have looked at these files, Marcus," Miller said softly.
He pulled his service pistol from his belt and pointed it directly at Marcus's chest.
"You're on their payroll too," Marcus said, the realization hitting him like a physical blow.
May you like
"They paid off my daughter's medical bills three years ago, Marcus," Miller whispered with a grim expression.
"In this city, everybody belongs to Eleanor Vance eventually," Miller added, resting his finger on the trigger.
