Chapter 11 - Six MinutesCaleb’s eyes moved subtly.
Office.
Two exits.
Lena tied.
Rawlings armed.
Somewhere below, Graham Holloway.
And apparently a fire planned.
“Why burn your own evidence?”
Rawlings smiled.
“My evidence?”
“Holloway’s company.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re framing him.”
“I don’t need to frame him. He’s guilty.”
“Not of everything.”
Rawlings shrugged.
“History rarely distinguishes.”
Caleb kept him talking.
“Why motorcycles?”
Rawlings seemed pleased by the question.
“Anonymity.”
“Transport.”
“Yes.”
“Stolen bikes move through traffic differently than cars.”
“No ownership link. Helmets hide faces. Easy to destroy.”
“And Franklin Cycle cleans them.”
“Smart.”
“You used low-level thieves as delivery systems.”
Rawlings smiled.
“People like Tyler think stealing a twenty-thousand-dollar motorcycle makes them sophisticated criminals.”
Lena said, “You’re a prosecutor using bike thieves as couriers. Calm down, Hannibal Lecter.”
Rawlings hit her across the side of the head with his free hand.
Caleb moved.
Gun instantly on him.
“Don’t.”
Caleb stopped.
Lena spat blood from her lip.
No serious injury.
She smiled anyway.
“You hit like a lawyer.”
Rawlings’s face tightened.
Caleb recognized it.
Ego.
Useful.
“How did Mercer discover you?”
Rawlings looked back at him.
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“He discovered Holloway.”
“But?”
“Holloway’s records led to Pike.”
“And Pike led to you.”
Rawlings smiled.
“Eventually.”
“You were supposed to prosecute the corruption you were running.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“No.”
Rawlings’s smile faded.
Caleb continued.
“You built cases against criminals you controlled.”
“Sometimes.”
“You removed competitors.”
“Sometimes.”
“You protected Holloway.”
“When useful.”
“Then made him believe he controlled you.”
Rawlings’s eyes changed.
Caleb had found pride again.
“No one controlled me.”
“Except Mercer.”
Rawlings’s jaw tightened.
“He was a bookkeeper.”
“He scared you.”
“No.”
“He found the ledger.”
Rawlings stepped slightly forward.
“He found pieces.”
“Enough.”
“No.”
“Enough that you had him killed.”
“I told you Holloway did that.”
“You knew he would.”
Silence.
Caleb had hit it.
Rawlings told Holloway Mercer was dangerous.
Holloway ordered the murder.
Rawlings kept his hands clean.
Technically.
Psychologically.
The perfect prosecutor.
Always arrange for someone else to commit the act.
Caleb glanced toward a digital wall clock.
Four minutes.
“Where’s Holloway?”
Rawlings smiled again.
“You really want to see him?”
“Yes.”
Rawlings called through an open door.
“Graham!”
No response.
He walked two steps sideways.
That was enough for Caleb to see through the doorway.
Holloway lay on the floor.
Hands tied.
Alive.
Face bruised.
His eyes met Caleb’s.
Rawlings had kidnapped his own criminal partner.
Holloway whispered:
“He’s insane.”
Rawlings laughed.
“That from Graham Holloway.”
Caleb said, “You’re planning to kill him too.”
“Yes.”
“And make it look like he burned evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Lena?”
“Collateral.”
“Me?”
Rawlings looked almost regretful.
“You were supposed to die months from now.”
Caleb stared.
“Why?”
“You don’t stop.”
“No.”
“That becomes inconvenient.”
Three minutes.
Caleb heard something faint downstairs.
Metal movement.
Maybe entry team.
Maybe fire mechanism.
He needed Rawlings focused.
“You tracked my motorcycle.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Shaw attached the tracker.”
“Captain Shaw.”
“Yes.”
“Why the bike?”
“The Mercer drive.”
“You already had someone inside evidence.”
“Not yet.”
Caleb understood.
The robbery was plan A.
Steal bike.
Take drive.
When that failed, Rawlings ordered Shaw to remove the drive directly.
“Then why threaten Emily?”
“Because the drive was useless.”
Caleb frowned.
“What?”
“Encrypted.”
“So you needed the originals.”
“Yes.”
“What is on them?”
Rawlings’s face changed.
That mattered.
Caleb pressed.
“Names?”
“No.”
“Accounts?”
“No.”
“What?”
Rawlings smiled faintly.
“A recording.”
Caleb went still.
“Mercer recorded someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Rawlings looked directly at him.
“Me.”
Two minutes.
Caleb understood.
Mercer had recorded Rawlings admitting enough to destroy him.
The flash drive held a copy.
But encrypted.
Rawlings couldn’t open it.
He needed Mercer’s original files.
Which he thought Caleb had.
“You kidnapped Emily for something I never possessed.”
“Yes.”
Caleb’s anger sharpened.
Rawlings shrugged.
“Mistakes happen.”
Lena strained against the ties.
“One minute fifty.”
Rawlings looked at the clock.
“Correct.”
Caleb said quietly:
“You made one too.”
Rawlings frowned.
“What?”
“You let Lena answer her phone.”
His face changed.
Caleb continued.
“She never hangs up without doing something.”
Rawlings looked toward her.
Lena smiled.
“My phone has live emergency sharing.”
Rawlings’s expression collapsed.
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
He moved the gun toward Lena.
Caleb lunged.
Gunshot.
Glass shattered.
Lena kicked the chair backward into Rawlings’s knees.
Caleb hit him.
Gun slid across the floor.
Holloway rolled away.
Rawlings fought desperately.
Not like a lawyer.
Like a man who had spent years imagining this moment.
Caleb pinned his wrist.
Rawlings reached toward an ankle holster.
Lena shouted.
“SECOND GUN!”
Caleb struck his arm away.
SWAT crashed through the stairwell door.
“POLICE!”
Rawlings froze.
Caleb looked at the clock.
Thirty-eight seconds.
“Fire device!”
Officers moved.
Bomb technicians later found incendiary charges wired in the warehouse electrical room.
The timer stopped with eleven seconds remaining.
Rawlings lay handcuffed on the floor.
May you like
His cheek against polished concrete.
For the first time, the man who made everybody else confess had nothing useful to say.
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