Chapter 8 - The Ghost in the System
The unmarked Ford truck kicked up a thick cloud of desert dust as it roared away into the dark, its headlights off, navigating by night-vision scopes alone.
Left behind in the dry wash were only Damon and Evelyn.
The distant thrum of the federal chopper grew louder, its powerful thermal searchlight sweeping across the arid landscape like a pale, accusing finger, missing their position by barely a hundred yards as it passed over the mesquite brush.
“You’re out of your mind, Reyes,” Evelyn muttered, pulling her trench coat tighter against the midnight desert chill as she crouched behind a boulder beside him. “Harrison is surrounded by a detail of twenty armed federal agents at his safe house in Scottsdale. You can't just walk in there and ask him to sign a confession.”
“Who said anything about asking?” Damon replied smoothly, pulling a small, encrypted satellite phone from his tactical vest. He punched in a series of override codes he hadn't used since his days running the syndicate’s intelligence network. “Marcus left the local cellular jammer in the truck, but this satellite unit bypasses every domestic carrier relay in the state.”
Evelyn watched him, a mix of disbelief and grudging admiration flashing in her eyes. “You’re calling the Attorney General’s internal oversight division.”
“No,” Damon said, his thumb hovering over the dial key. “If I call internal affairs, Harrison’s allies in the upper tier will bury the report before it hits a desk. I’m calling the one person in Washington who hates a corrupt bureaucrat more than she hates organized crime.”
He pressed the call button.
It rang twice before a sharp, no-nonsense female voice answered on the other end. “This is Senator Sterling’s secure line. State your clearance code.”
“Tell the Senator that Damon Reyes is holding a flash drive containing five years of illegal asset forfeiture and illicit kickbacks tied directly to Director Harrison’s private offshore accounts,” Damon said evenly, his voice carrying absolute authority. “And tell her I want a federal grand jury assembled in Phoenix by sunrise—or I upload the entire package to every major news outlet west of the Mississippi.”
A heavy silence hung over the satellite line. Then, the voice clicked off, replaced instantly by a second, older, steel-hard voice that Damon recognized immediately.
“Mr. Reyes,” Senator Eleanor Sterling’s voice crackled through the speaker. “You’ve been a very difficult man to corner. What makes you think I’ll take a call from a syndicate boss at midnight?”
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“Because, Senator, your office has been trying to nail Director Harrison for corruption for three years,” Damon said without missing a beat. “I have the ledger. He has my home. Let’s make a trade.”
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