“We unsealed your encrypted communications logs with Vaduz forty-five minutes ago.”
“We audited the twelve shell companies you registered in Delaware to launder the subterranean excavation rights.”
“And we have the certified shipping manifests for the contraband renal specimen currently decomposing inside Adelaide Bromel’s body.”
Thaddius Bromel did not run.
He stood pinned against his mahogany desk on the second floor, his chest heaving, his silver tie crooked, his hands trembling violently as Dr. Priyanka Oay set the Toughbook terminal flat atop his leather blotter:
*CLINK.*
“Look at the telemetry, Thad,” Dr. Oay commanded.
Her voice had no pity:
“Your mother has been in complete hyperacute vascular rejection since zero-seven-hundred hours.”
“The organ your uncle bought through his Swiss syndicate was harvested from an un-indexed medical prison in Eastern Europe.”
“It was ischemic before it cleared customs in Atlanta.”
“And the reason your mother’s personal surgeon couldn’t stop the necrosis…”
