They're trying to erase a whole community. One citation at a time, Evelyn agreed. Like water wearing down a stone. Each little pressure point looks legal on paper. Malcolm started to respond when Titan suddenly stiffened.
A low growl rumbling in his chest. Despite his injuries, the shepherd's posture shifted to alert. Malcolm moved to the window in time to see someone in a dark jacket raise what looked like a phone or camera toward the house. Stay inside, he ordered, already moving. But by the time he reached the front door, the figure was gone.
Only the sound of running footsteps fading down the block suggested anyone had been there. Malcolm examined the sidewalk where the photographer had stood. No dropped items, no obvious traces. Just another form of surveillance, another message. We're watching.
We can reach you anywhere. Back inside, he found Evelyn securing windows while Naomi comforted Titan. The dog's protective instincts fought against his medication, making him restless. Try to get some sleep, Malcolm told them. I'm meeting that records clerk early tomorrow.
If they're altering official files, that's federal jurisdiction. One solid piece of proof and we can bring in outside oversight. Be careful, Evelyn said. That clerk is taking a huge risk talking to you. Malcolm nodded grimly.
I'll park a few blocks away, approach on foot. No chances. But as he prepared for bed, converting Evelyn's couch into his temporary command post, Malcolm couldn't shake a cold certainty. Tomorrow would bring escalation. The machine was fully activated now.
Every pressure point would be squeezed. Every vulnerability probed. He checked his weapon, verified his backup phone was charged, and settled in for another night of interrupted sleep. At 4:00 a.m., he would head downtown to meet Amy Zhang before her shift. The clerk's evidence might be their best chance at cracking this wide open.
Titan shifted in his bed, still favoring his injured side, but maintaining his guard position facing the front door. Outside, a car rolled past with its lights off. Malcolm added it to his mental log without moving. Let them watch. Tomorrow would bring proof.
The parking garage echoed with early morning emptiness as Malcolm climbed the concrete ramp to level three. His footsteps bounced off bare walls, matching the hollow feeling in his stomach. At 5:45 a.m., the structure was still dark except for scattered security lights that cast long shadows between the support pillars. Raphael Dunn stood near his weathered Honda Civic, shoulders hunched against the morning chill. The records clerk kept glancing toward the stairwell door, his fingers drumming against a Manila envelope.
When he spotted Malcolm, relief flickered across his face. "I wasn't sure you'd come," Raphael said quietly. "After what happened to the last person who talked. " Malcolm kept his stance relaxed, but maintained clear sight lines to both ramps. "What happened to them? " "Transferred to record storage in the basement. No phone, no computer access, just endless box sorting until they quit. " Raphael's voice dropped lower.
"But that's not why I called you. These files, something's wrong with them. Really wrong. He pulled papers from the envelope with trembling hands. See these transaction dates?
Property liens filed and cleared in hours instead of weeks. Code violations appearing with backdated timestamps. Ownership transfers pushed through without normal review periods. Malcolm studied the documents. All tied to Mercer's acquisitions.
His shell companies. Different names, but same patterns. And look, Rafael spread more pages across his car hood. Internal logs showing file access after hours. Records moved between departments without proper requests.
I started printing these because the digital copies keep vanishing from the system. A car door slammed somewhere below them. Rafael flinched. When did you first notice? Malcolm asked, photographing key pages with his phone.
About 6 months ago. Small things at first. But lately, Rafael froze, eyes fixed over Malcolm's shoulder. Malcolm heard the footsteps too late. The stairwell door banged open as two masked figures rushed out.
A third man gunned an SUV up the ramp, blocking their escape route. Down! Malcolm shoved Rafael behind a concrete pillar as the first attacker swung a tire iron. The metal bar whistled past Malcolm's head and clanged against the column. Papers scattered across the oil-stained floor.
Malcolm caught the second swing and twisted, using the attacker's momentum to slam him into a parked sedan. The man grunted, but kept his grip on the weapon. His partner circled wide, trying to flank them. Stay behind me, Malcolm ordered Rafael, who had pressed himself against the Honda's passenger door. The clerk's face had gone ghost white.
The SUV's engine revved. Headlights swept across them as it crept closer, herding them toward the other attackers. Malcolm recognized the tactic. They wanted to pin them against the vehicles. The man with the tire iron lunged again.
Malcolm blocked with his forearm, absorbing a numbing impact, then drove his knee into the attacker's ribs. As the man doubled over, Malcolm stripped the weapon from his grip and sent it skittering under a car. But the second attacker was already moving. Malcolm caught a flash of metal. Brass knuckles glinting in the dim light.
He managed to deflect most of the punch, but the edge of the metal split his cheek. Blood trickled down his jaw. Rafael cried out as the third man left the SUV and grabbed him. Malcolm spun toward the sound, which left him open to a body shot from behind. Pain flared across his kidneys.
He staggered, but stayed up. Muscle memory from years of training taking over. Malcolm drove an elbow back blindly. Felt it connect. Used the moment to create space.
Then he went on the offensive. A precise combination of strikes that dropped one attacker to his knees gasping. The second man backed away, hands raised. "The papers. " The man holding Rafael growled. "That's all we want.
Give them up and this ends. " Malcolm saw Rafael's terror. Saw the thin line of blood where a knife pressed against the clerk's throat. The scattered documents swirled in the SUV's exhaust. He feinted left, then exploded right. His shoulder caught the armed man in the sternum.
The knife clattered away as they hit the ground. Raphael scrambled free. The SUV's engine roared. Malcolm rolled clear as it accelerated toward them. The vehicle clipped a pillar, showering concrete chips.
He pulled Raphael behind a row of parked cars as the SUV screeched past. The other attackers were already running. One dropped something as he vaulted into the SUV's open door. The vehicle fishtailed toward the exit ramp, tires squealing. Then silence crashed back in, broken only by their heavy breathing and distant traffic.
Oh god. Oh god. Raphael slumped against a car, pressing his sleeve against a shallow cut on his neck. They were waiting for us. They knew.