Chapter 5 - The Syndicate's Secret
"The logs match," Miller said, walking back into the circle of light with the satellite phone still pressed to his ear. His face was carved from granite. "Estate manager confirms it. Three weeks ago, a consignment of high-value diamond rough from the Antwerp route was routed through the upstate compound. The courier vanished the same night the dog went rogue."
Vance slowly turned his cold blue eyes toward Director Cowell.
Cowell pressed himself flat against the cinderblock wall, his legs trembling so violently he could barely stand. "I—I don't know anything about diamonds! We're a state-licensed municipal intake facility! We only take strays and court-ordered surrenders! You brought the dog here! You told us it was a rabies risk!"
"I told you to hold the animal under maximum security until I could verify if it was compromised," Vance corrected, his voice cutting through the corridor like a scalpel. He stepped closer to the cowering director. "I didn't authorize your corrupt veterinary staff to perform an unauthorized surgical extraction of a corporate tracking beacon. And I certainly didn't authorize you to schedule a quiet euthanasia to cover up the missing cargo."
"I... I was just following the senior veterinarian's recommendation!" Cowell choked out, his voice cracking with panic. "Dr. Hayes said the animal was incurably vicious! He said the state papers were already signed!"
"Dr. Hayes left the country for Zurich twelve hours ago," Vance replied smoothly. He drew a small, heavy leather-bound notebook from his coat, flipping it open to a single handwritten page. "Which means Dr. Hayes was tying up loose ends before the audit hit. Just like you were planning to do with this dog."
Tessa continued to stroke the mastiff's massive head. The dog's breathing had grown deep and rhythmic, its huge paws twitching slightly as it finally drifted into a safe, untroubled sleep against her knee. She looked up at Vance, her eyes sharp and analytical.
"You're not animal control," Tessa said. It wasn't a question.
Vance looked down at her, a faint, humorless smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "Smart girl. You see too much for a delivery driver, Miss Rivera."
"My route covers every commercial dock and warehouse from here to the Canadian border," Tessa replied evenly, standing up slowly while keeping one hand resting on the mastiff's collar. "I see what people drop off, and I see what they try to hide. That shipping jacket isn't just a uniform—it's a shield. Nobody looks twice at a girl with a box of dog food."
Vance studied her for a long moment, a strange look of professional respect flickering in his icy blue eyes. "If I let you walk out of here right now with that animal, Director Cowell and his associates will ensure your delivery company loses its contract before nightfall."
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"Let them try," Tessa said. "Guardian Shipping doesn't belong to Cowell."
Before Vance could answer, the heavy double doors at the far end of the lobby banged open, shattering the quiet of the facility. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor—not the measured tread of syndicate fixers, but the frantic, chaotic rush of municipal police officers responding to a silent panic alarm.
