Chapter 11 - CUTTING THROUGH THE PLASTER|
The safe house was an abandoned boathouse on the edge of Lake Michigan. The cold wind howled against the wooden planks, but inside, a small kerosene heater provided a dim, orange light.
Marcus brought out a heavy-duty electric oscillating saw from his tool trunk.
"This is going to hurt," Marcus warned, testing the blade. "I'm not an orthopedic surgeon."
"Just do it," I choked out, holding onto the wooden workbench. "Get it out."
The high-pitched whine of the saw filled the boathouse as Marcus carefully sliced through the thick white plaster on my left calf. Dust blew into the air, settling on our clothes like snow.
After five tense minutes, the cast cracked open.
Nestled inside a waterproof rubber lining beneath the cotton padding sat a sleek, silver micro-SD card no larger than a fingernail.
"Is that it?" Marcus asked, staring at the tiny piece of plastic.
"That tiny card holds the entire digital ecosystem of Erebus Holdings," I said, my voice trembling with exhaustion. "Every politician they bought, every murder they covered up, every offshore shell bank in Grand Cayman."
Marcus pulled out a ruggedized, military-grade laptop and inserted the card into a reader slot.
Lines of green code scrolled down the screen at blinding speed, unencrypting millions of financial transactions.
I leaned over his shoulder, my eyes scanning the names on the master ledger.
"Look there," I pointed at a top-tier transaction column labeled Project Phoenix. "Look at the primary account holder."
Marcus zoomed in on the account details.
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The name listed at the top of the multi-billion-dollar empire wasn't my Uncle Richard. It wasn't the suited assassin.
It was the Governor of the State.
