Chapter 5 - The Bullet and the Bargain
Arthur threw himself over Holloway as Margaret fired toward the broken window.
Samuel dropped behind a steel support column.
A second bullet struck the concrete floor.
Then came silence.
Margaret kept her weapon aimed at the opposite building.
“We need to move,” she said.
Arthur pressed both hands against Holloway’s chest.
Blood spread through the doctor’s shirt.
The bullet had entered near his right shoulder, but the bleeding was heavy.
“Call an ambulance,” Arthur ordered.
Samuel stared at him.
“The shooter could be waiting for emergency services.”
“Call Cruz directly.”
Margaret remained near the window.
“No movement across the street.”
Arthur leaned closer to Holloway.
“Stay awake.”
The physician’s lips trembled.
“I didn’t make the pills.”
“Who did?”
“A laboratory in New Jersey.”
“Who ordered them?”
“Julian.”
“You said Julian wasn’t in charge.”
“He took orders from someone.”
“Who?”
Holloway closed his eyes.
Arthur slapped his cheek.
“Malcolm.”
The doctor’s eyes opened again.
“There was a woman.”
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
Arthur froze.
Holloway coughed.
“I never saw her face. She called herself E.”
“E?”
“She knew your medical history. She knew things Vanessa didn’t.”
“What things?”
“Your surgery in London. The seizure in 1998. The blood disorder your first wife had.”
Arthur felt the room tilt.
His first wife, Evelyn, had died twenty-six years earlier.
Only a small group of people had known the complete circumstances of her illness.
“Did Vanessa know about Evelyn’s blood disorder?”
“No,” Holloway whispered. “But E did.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Arthur glanced toward Samuel.
The attorney looked pale.
Holloway clutched Arthur’s wrist.
“They don’t just want your money.”
“Then what do they want?”
“The ledger.”
Arthur said nothing.
Holloway’s breathing became ragged.
“What ledger?”
The doctor looked terrified.
“The one Evelyn hid before she died.”
Arthur leaned closer.
“There is no ledger.”
Holloway gave a weak, broken laugh.
“That’s what they’re afraid you’ll say.”
The warehouse doors burst open.
Detective Cruz entered with four armed officers.
Paramedics followed.
They rushed Holloway onto a stretcher.
Cruz pulled Arthur aside.
“How did he get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You own the building.”
“I gave him this address yesterday.”
Cruz’s eyes narrowed.
“You told me he vanished with his passport.”
“That was your theory.”
“And you waited until someone shot him before calling me?”
“I found him less than three minutes before the shot.”
Margaret approached.
“The shooter was positioned in the eastern building, sixth or seventh floor.”
Cruz looked at the weapon in her hand.
“You fired?”
“Yes.”
“License?”
Margaret removed it from her wallet.
Cruz almost smiled.
“Of course you have one.”
As officers secured the area, Arthur followed the stretcher outside.
Holloway caught his sleeve one final time.
“Your wife thinks she’s inheriting eighty-two million,” he whispered.
Arthur bent toward him.
“But Vanessa is being lied to.”
“By whom?”
Holloway’s eyes moved toward Samuel.
For a fraction of a second, fear crossed the attorney’s face.
Then Holloway lost consciousness.
Arthur slowly turned toward his oldest friend.
Samuel looked back at him.
“What?” Samuel asked.
Arthur did not answer.
The ambulance doors closed.
As it pulled away, Arthur realized something he had not allowed himself to consider.
May you like
The conspiracy might not have begun with Vanessa.
It might have begun decades before he ever met her.
