Chapter 3: The Price of Silence
The next three days were a blur of shadows and paranoia. Leo knew Sterling’s resources were limitless. He saw the black SUVs idling outside his apartment, the men in dark glasses scanning the windows.
He couldn't go to the police. The precinct was in Sterling’s pocket. He couldn't go to the newspapers; they would be bought off before the ink dried.
He needed to reach someone who couldn't be bought.
He remembered his father mentioning a woman—Sarah Jenkins. She had been the investigative journalist who had tried to break the story twenty years ago, only to be blacklisted and driven out of the industry. He found her address in a dusty phone book from the library.
He met her in a crowded park, dressed in a hoodie and baseball cap. She looked older, tired, but when she saw the ledger, the spark returned to her eyes.
"Is this real?" she whispered, flipping through the pages.
"It’s his handwriting," Leo said.
"Sterling will kill you for this, Leo. He killed your father to keep this hidden. He’ll do the same to you."
"He already took everything," Leo replied. "I have nothing left to lose."
Suddenly, Sarah’s eyes went wide. She looked past Leo. "Run."
A van screeched to a halt on the park path. Men poured out. Leo bolted, but this time, he wasn't fast enough. A car cut him off, and before he could react, a heavy hand grabbed his collar. He was shoved into the back of a black SUV.
He was driven to a private hangar, the air thick with the smell of jet fuel. Sterling was waiting, standing by a private plane. He looked calm, terrifyingly so.
"You’re a persistent boy, Leo," Sterling said, lighting a cigar. "Just like your father. He, too, thought he could outsmart the world."
"He was smarter than you," Leo spat. "And he left a trail."
Sterling laughed. "A trail of dust. Give me the book, and I’ll give you a life you can’t imagine. A scholarship, a house, a clean slate."
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"I want justice," Leo said.
"Justice is a myth for the poor," Sterling replied. "Now, hand it over."
