I pause.
“The rival faction used clinic construction funds to collateralize private security contracts,” I say. “Shell clinics. The money loops back into political campaign trusts and ‘disaster relief’ foundations.”
Now he looks at me.
“They skimmed small,” I add. “Under reporting thresholds. Year after year. It’s layered. Foundations to logistics. Logistics to procurement. Procurement to council signatories.”
He still hasn’t written anything down.
“Why bring this to me?” he asks.
“Because this isn’t just fraud,” I say. “It’s coordinated money movement between elected officials and organized crime.”
Silence.
“You can verify it without me,” I say. “Once you start pulling the foundation filings, the rest surfaces.”
When I walk back down the stairs, my legs are steady. My hands aren’t.
I move again. I walk three blocks before I take a tram. I get off before the last stop and change direction. I borrow a car arranged under a name that’s not mine and drive without music, without calls, without looking at my phone.
Dawn breaks while I’m still moving. The sky turns gray, then pale. Morning traffic fills the roads and makes everyone look ordinary.
Somewhere behind me, Dominik is still inside the line he chose to hold.
I don’t know if he’s upright or bleeding or already down. I only know that the ledger is no longer sitting in the dark. And neither am I.
Now I have to find him.
31
DOMINIK
Inotice straight away that the second car is where I left it.
Ana doesn’t abandon a clean route, and she doesn’t drift from timing. If she planned to reach this car in eight minutes, she reaches it in eight. The second thing is worse.
The mirror is folded in.
We never fold it.
I stand there a second too long, staring at the angle of the glass, at the way it presses tight against the door. My breath turns loud in my own ears.
I look at the glass, pressed flat against the door. She saw it. She didn’t approach.
The next thought lands hard. Did she cut away from me? Did she decide I was the risk?
I shut it down before it grows teeth.
Ana doesn’t move without reason. If she left no sign, it’s because she assumed I was being watched. Any mark for me would have marked her too. She kept moving.
I wipe blood from my sleeve and force my breathing steady.
The building door behind me slams open. Boots hit pavement. No more thinking. I step toward the car, not to get in, but to use it. Headlights flare at the mouth of the alley and wash the brick in white. Someone blocks the street.
They expected me to come here. Good. I move along the side of the car, in a half-kneel, keeping metal between me and the first angle. A round cracks against the hood and skims off in sparks.
I fire once at the man pushing left, and he stumbles but stays upright, which tells me he’s wearing armor. I adjust my aim and send the second shot higher, above the plate, and he drops.
