Chapter 5 - The Web Expands
That afternoon, Roman met his chief legal counsel, Marcus Sterling, and his private security analyst, a taciturn former Mossad operator named Lev, in an underground garage beneath a downtown warehouse.
Lev laid out the chemical analysis of the vial Claire had extracted.
“It’s a compound called Neurolin-B,” Lev reported, handing Roman a tablet with the chemical breakdown. “Not available legally in North America or Europe. Manufactured by a black-market pharmaceutical lab in Ukraine. In small doses, it causes muscular paralysis while leaving sensory perception fully intact. It’s literal hell, Roman. The patient feels everything, hears everything, but can’t move a muscle.”
Roman’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek. “And how long has Harrison been giving it to him?”
“Based on Ethan’s muscle atrophy patterns? At least eighteen months,” Lev said. “It’s a miracle his mind hasn't completely snapped.”
“It didn't snap because of Claire,” Roman muttered.
Marcus Sterling looked up from his files. “We checked Claire Dawson’s background, Roman, just as you asked. She’s clean. Completely clean. Worked for six years at a pediatric rehabilitation clinic in West Chicago before it closed down due to state budget cuts. Took the housekeeping job at your estate because she needed money for her nephew’s heart surgery.”
Roman paused. “Her nephew?”
“Yeah. Seven-year-old kid named Leo. Needs a pulmonary valve replacement. The insurance company denied coverage twice. She’s been taking night shifts and sending eighty percent of her paycheck to her sister.”
Roman closed his eyes for three seconds, feeling an intense, heavy warmth bloom in his chest—a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. In a world full of snakes, traitors, and ruthless ambition, a humble, soft-spoken woman had walked into his nightmare simply trying to save a little boy, and in doing so, had saved his brother.
“Marcus,” Roman said, opening his eyes. “Call the Chief of Surgery at Children’s Memorial. Tell him the Hale Foundation is funding Leo Dawson’s surgery in full. Get the best surgeons in the country on a private jet by tomorrow morning.”
“Consider it done,” Marcus said.
“Now,” Roman turned to Lev, his eyes darkening. “Tell me about Grant Mercer.”
“Mercer is moving his main shipment through Pier 42 on Friday night,” Lev said. “Three hundred million dollars in unregistered bonds and contraband. He thinks Victor has you completely blind. Victor sent Mercer a message an hour ago confirming that you’ll be in New York on Friday for a logistics summit.”
May you like
Roman smiled, a terrifying sight in the dim light of the garage.
“Good,” Roman whispered. “Let Mercer think the house is empty. Let him think I’m three hundred miles away. On Friday night, we don't just cut off his supply—we end his line.”
