Chapter 18 - The Underworld Informant
The rain over Brooklyn was relentless, turning the cracked asphalt into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the amber glow of streetlamps.
Emily pulled the hood of her black raincoat low over her forehead as Cole navigated the unmarked SUV down a narrow alley behind an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook.
"The lab director’s name is Dr. Arthur Pendelton," Cole said, checking the chamber of his sidearm. "He disappeared three hours after the court filing was submitted."
"He didn't run far," Emily said, pointing toward a faint light glowing in the basement window of a shuttered butcher shop. "In the dive bar where I worked, the bookies used this exact basement to lay low when the feds came knocking."
They slipped through the rusted rear door.
The basement smelled of damp concrete, stale tobacco, and metallic rust.
At the far end of the room, sitting beside an open suitcase packed with stacks of hundred-dollar bills, was a balding man in a rumpled suit, frantically typing on a burner phone.
Dr. Arthur Pendelton.
Cole moved like a ghost, closing the distance in three silent strides.
Before Pendelton could scream, Cole's hand clamped down over his mouth like an iron vise, pinning the trembling doctor against the damp brick wall.
"Make one sound," Cole whispered with terrifying calm, "and this conversation ends before it begins."
Cole released him. Pendelton collapsed into his folding chair, his face white as paper, clutching his chest.
"Please... don't kill me!" Pendelton wheezed. "I did what they told me! I gave them the falsified affidavit!"
Emily stepped out of the shadows, pulling down her hood.
Pendelton gasped when he saw her face. "You... you're Emily Harrison."
"Who paid you, Doctor?" Emily asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "Who gave you the money in that suitcase to sign an affidavit claiming my DNA test was fake?"
"I don't know his name!" Pendelton sobbed, trembling uncontrollably. "He called himself 'The Architect.' He told me if I didn't sign the forged confession, my daughter in Boston would die in a car accident just like your mother did!"
Emily froze. "What did you say?"
"He said Clara Harrison died because she refused to sign over her shares," Pendelton stammered. "He said he cleaned up Clara twelve years ago, and he would clean up her brat the exact same way!"
Emily stepped closer, grabbing the lapels of the doctor's coat and pulling him forward until his terrified eyes were inches from hers.
"How were you paid?" Emily demanded. "Wire transfer? Cash drop? How did you communicate?"
"A courier delivered the suitcase two hours ago," Pendelton gasped. "With an invitation! An invitation to the Metropolitan Heritage Gala tonight at the Plaza!"
Emily reached into the open suitcase and pulled out an embossed golden envelope tucked between the stacks of cash.
Inside was a VIP admission card to the most exclusive philanthropic event of the year, bearing a single gold-stamped wax seal.
The seal was an ouroboros—the snake eating its tail.
Underneath the seal was a handwritten message:
*To celebrate the final fall of the Harrison name. See you at midnight, Victoria.*
Emily felt the breath catch in her throat.
"Victoria," she whispered.
Cole’s eyes narrowed in instant recognition. "Victoria Sterling. Marcus Sterling’s mother... and your grandfather’s bitterest business rival for fifty years."
Emily tucked the golden invitation into her pocket.
"Get Pendelton into federal protective custody," Emily commanded Cole.
May you like
"Where are you going?" Cole asked, alarmed.
"To the Plaza," Emily said, her jaw set with lethal resolve. "I have a party to crash."
