CHAPTER 4: THE MAN WHO TALKED TOO MUCH
CHAPTER 4: THE MAN WHO TALKED TOO MUCH
The fake maintenance worker never reached my room.
He never even made it past the intensive care corridor.
Federal agents tackled him before he could draw the weapon.
Within twenty minutes, the entire maternity floor was locked down.
Every visitor was screened.
Every elevator monitored.
Every window watched.
I wasn't a patient anymore.
I was a protected witness.
Agent Brooks returned carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside lay a silenced pistol.
A disposable phone.
And a folded envelope.
She placed it carefully on the bedside table.
"It was addressed to you."
I stared at it.
"Open it."
She unfolded the paper without touching the writing.
Only six words appeared.
STOP TALKING OR THE BABY DIES.
A chill spread through the room.
Mercer sighed quietly.
"They're escalating faster than expected."
I looked at him.
"They?"
He hesitated.
Then answered.
"This was never just Marcus."
Mercer dimmed the lights and activated the privacy system.
"The fewer people who hear this conversation, the better."
He placed several photographs across my hospital tray.
Marcus.
Politicians.
Foreign investors.
Executives from companies I recognized from television.
"What am I looking at?"
"A network."
"What kind?"
"The kind that launders billions through government technology contracts."
I struggled to process the images.
"Marcus is a software CEO."
Mercer gave me a sad smile.
"That was always the cover."
My breathing became uneven.
"So my marriage..."
"...placed you inside one of the largest ongoing federal investigations in the country."
I remembered every business dinner.
Every mysterious overseas trip.
Every locked office.
Every phone call that ended the second I entered the room.
Pieces that had never fit together suddenly formed a terrifying picture.
A knock interrupted us.
One of the federal officers entered.
"Sir."
"We've got a problem."
"What happened?"
"The suspect requested a lawyer."
"So?"
"He doesn't want an attorney."
"He specifically requested to speak with Mrs. Sarah Vale."
Mercer's eyes narrowed.
"Denied."
The officer swallowed.
"There's more."
"He says if he isn't allowed to speak within one hour..."
"...another team has already been activated."
Silence.
"What team?"
The officer looked directly at me.
"He said..."
"'Tell Mrs. Vale the courthouse was only Plan A.'"
An hour later, despite every objection, Mercer entered the interrogation room alone.
The captured gunman sat handcuffed to the table.
He smiled.
"You people are late."
Mercer remained standing.
"Who hired you?"
The man laughed.
"You think this is about money?"
"No."
"It's about cleaning up mistakes."
He leaned forward.
"Marcus isn't the one giving orders anymore."
Mercer's expression changed for the first time.
"Who is?"
The man chuckled.
"You'll find out."
"When they arrive."
Before Mercer could ask another question...
The prisoner suddenly began coughing violently.
Blood spilled onto the interrogation table.
Within seconds he collapsed.
Doctors rushed in.
Too late.
Hidden inside one of his teeth was a cyanide capsule.
He had chosen death over talking.
Back at the hospital, Agent Brooks received a phone call.
She listened for less than thirty seconds.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
Her face had gone pale.
Mercer looked at her.
"What now?"
She answered in a whisper.
"Marcus Vale has disappeared."
"His attorneys say they don't know where he is."
"The GPS tracker on his vehicle was disabled."
"And..."
She looked toward me.
"His private jet took off exactly eighteen minutes ago."
I stared through the hospital window into the dark night.
Marcus wasn't running.
He was going somewhere.
Somewhere important.
May you like
And if the dead assassin had been telling the truth...
The man I thought was the villain of my story had just become the least dangerous person involved.
