Chapter 13 - THE SHOT
Marcus fell.
Daniel screamed.
“Marcus!”
Everything happened at once.
Elena drew her weapon.
Alan fired again.
The bullet struck metal.
Victor crawled behind a luggage cart.
Daniel dropped beside Marcus.
Blood spread across his shirt.
“Stay with me.”
Marcus gasped.
“My shoulder.”
“You’re okay.”
“Doesn’t feel okay.”
Police stormed the hangar.
Alan ran toward the jet.
Elena shouted.
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
He didn’t.
Two officers moved around the wing.
Alan stopped.
Nowhere left to go.
Gun still in his hand.
Daniel stood.
“Alan.”
Claire grabbed him.
“Don’t.”
Daniel looked at the man who had known him since childhood.
The man who had stood beside his father’s grave.
The man who had let his father die on an office floor.
“Put it down.”
Alan laughed.
“You sound like him.”
“Good.”
“You think your father was a hero?”
“No.”
Daniel’s voice shook.
“He was stubborn. Controlling. Sometimes impossible.”
Alan stared.
“But he would have called an ambulance.”
Alan’s face changed.
Just slightly.
Police shouted again.
“DROP IT!”
Alan looked around.
Then slowly lowered the gun.
It hit the concrete.
Handcuffs followed.
Daniel barely watched.
He went back to Marcus.
Paramedics rushed in.
As they lifted Marcus onto a stretcher, Marcus grabbed Daniel’s wrist.
“Don’t forgive me.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
“I mean it.”
“Shut up.”
“I knew the money was dirty.”
“Marcus.”
“I knew.”
His eyes filled.
“I just didn’t know how dirty.”
Daniel looked at his brother.
For the first time in years, Marcus didn’t look charming.
Or confident.
Or clever.
He looked tired.
Small.
Human.
“I hated you,” Marcus whispered.
Daniel swallowed.
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
The paramedic tried to move him.
Marcus held Daniel tighter.
“I hated how Dad looked at you.”
Daniel looked away.
“I spent my whole life trying to beat you.”
“And what did you win?”
Marcus gave a weak laugh.
“Apparently a gunshot.”
The paramedics rolled him away.
Claire stepped beside Daniel.
Police were escorting Alan toward a car.
Victor was in handcuffs too.
Elena approached.
“We got him.”
Daniel stared at Alan.
“No.”
Elena frowned.
“What?”
“We got one man.”
She understood.
Sterling.
The shell companies.
The money.
Dozens of names.
Years of corruption.
Alan wasn’t the end.
He was the door.
Then Elena’s phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face hardened.
“What now?”
She held it out.
A Sterling executive had emptied three offshore accounts.
May you like
Thirty-eight million dollars had moved in the last hour.
And the transfer authorization carried Daniel Caldwell’s digital signature.
