Chapter 11: Room 904
We reached Atlanta shortly before midnight.
The Federal Annex stood behind a row of government buildings, its glass entrance reflecting the flashing lights of several parked vehicles.
Two federal security officers waited outside.
One approached as we exited the vehicle.
"Deputy Marshal Greene?""
"Yes.""
"We've secured the main entrance. Nobody has been allowed to leave since the alarm triggered.""
"How many people are inside?""
"Three employees. One cleaning contractor. And one unidentified individual.""
"Where?""
"Records department, ninth floor.""
I stepped forward.
"Room 904?""
The officer nodded.
Greene looked at me.
"Your Honor, stay behind us.""
I followed the officers inside.
The elevator doors opened on the ninth floor.
The hallway was dark except for emergency lighting.
A broken ceiling panel lay near the records department.
Someone had removed the security camera above the entrance.
Greene examined it.
"Recent damage.""
One of the officers approached a door.
"Room 904.""
The electronic lock was damaged.
I held up the key Daniel Cross had given me.
"Try this.""
Greene took it.
There was a small mechanical lock beneath the damaged keypad.
The key turned.
The door opened.
Inside, the room looked like a storage facility.
Metal cabinets lined the walls.
A large wooden table occupied the center.
But the shelves were almost empty.
I stepped inside.
"Where are the recordings?""
Greene examined the cabinets.
"Someone cleared the room.""
I looked at the floor.
Dust covered most of the surface.
Except for a rectangular space near the back wall.
Something heavy had recently been removed.
I approached the desk.
A small envelope lay beneath a telephone.
My name was written on it.
Again.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Marcus Bell.
He was standing outside a gas station, wearing civilian clothes.
The photograph had been taken recently.
On the back were five handwritten words.
*HE IS NOT YOUR ENEMY.*
I turned it over.
A second note was attached.
*FIND THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE COAT.*
Greene looked over my shoulder.
"Who is the woman in the blue coat?""
"I don't know.""
A noise came from behind the cabinets.
Greene immediately turned.
"Federal marshals! Step out!""
A metal object hit the floor.
Then a man emerged from the shadows.
He was wearing a gray maintenance uniform.
His hands were raised.
"Don't shoot!""
One of the officers moved toward him.
"Identify yourself.""
"Peter Lawson. Records technician.""
Greene examined his identification.
"Why are you hiding?""
Lawson looked at me.
"Because I was told not to let anyone find me.""
"By whom?""
He hesitated.
Then he whispered:
"Judge Whitaker.""
I stepped forward.
"Judge Whitaker is dead.""
Lawson's face crumpled.
"I know.""
"How?""
He looked toward the ceiling.
"Because I watched the person who killed him leave.""
Greene immediately moved closer.
"Who was it?""
Lawson swallowed.
"I don't know his name. But he was wearing a federal security badge.""
"Can you describe him?""
"About six feet tall. Dark hair. Scar near his jaw. He walked with a slight limp.""
Greene went completely still.
I noticed.
"Do you know him?""
Greene slowly nodded.
"Yes.""
"Who?""
He took a breath.
"Daniel Cross.""
I stared at him.
"That's impossible. Cross is in the hospital.""
Lawson shook his head.
"No. I saw him yesterday.""
The room seemed to tilt.
"Are you certain?""
"Absolutely. He entered this building carrying a black case. He left about twenty minutes later.""
Greene looked at me.
"Someone may be using his identity.""
I returned my attention to Lawson.
"What was inside the black case?""
"Recordings.""
"What recordings?""
"The original trial files.""
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Where did he take them?""
Lawson looked toward the table.
"There's another access point.""
He moved a chair aside and pointed to a small metal panel in the floor.
Greene crouched.
"That's not on the building plans.""
Lawson shook his head.
"It was installed years ago. Room 904 was never meant to be the actual archive.""
I looked at him.
"Then what is it?""
"A decoy.""
Greene opened the panel.
Beneath it was a narrow compartment containing a small hard drive and several envelopes.
I picked up the first envelope.
It was sealed with red wax.
The label read:
*BELLHAVEN — ORIGINAL INVESTIGATION — RESTRICTED.*
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten statement signed by Daniel Cross.
The first paragraph read:
I, Daniel Cross, am placing this statement into independent custody because I believe the official investigation has been compromised at the highest level.
I continued reading.
The statement described an operation that had begun fourteen years earlier.
The original purpose had been to investigate organized crime and illegal financial transfers.
But somewhere along the way, the investigators had discovered that several local officials were using criminal cases to conceal financial transactions.
They had begun manipulating evidence, pressuring witnesses, and arranging convictions.
The operation had expanded beyond Bellhaven.
And one of the people protecting it was a federal official.
I reached the final page.
There was a list of names.
Eleven people convicted in Bellhaven County.
Beneath them were three additional names.
I recognized two.
Sheriff Voss.
District Attorney Hale.
The third name belonged to someone I had never expected to see.
*DEPUTY MARSHAL THOMAS GREENE.*
I slowly raised my eyes.
Greene was standing across the room.
His face had gone pale.
"Your Honor," he said quietly.
I placed the document on the table.
"Explain.""
He looked at the signature.
Then at me.
"I was twenty-six when I worked on the original investigation.""
"You were involved?""
"I was assigned to Cross's team.""
"Why is your name on this list?""
He rubbed his face.
"Because I signed the original transfer records.""
"Which records?""
"The evidence transfers from the courthouse.""
I stared at him.
"Did you know the evidence was being removed?""
"No.""
"Did you authorize it?""
"I signed a document that I believed was legitimate.""
I looked at the statement again.
His signature appeared beside the transfer of the murder weapon in Marcus Bell's case.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Greene lowered his eyes.
"Because I didn't remember until I saw that document.""
The silence was unbearable.
Then Lawson spoke.
"There's something else.""
We turned toward him.
He pointed at the hard drive.
"That contains the recordings.""
Greene examined it.
"Can you access them?""
"Not without a password.""
"Do you know it?""
Lawson nodded.
"But there's a problem.""
"What?""
He looked directly at me.
"The password is a date.""
"Which date?""
He hesitated.
"The day Judge Whitlock was appointed to the federal bench.""
My stomach tightened.
I looked at Greene.
Then at Lawson.
"Why would Daniel Cross use my appointment date?""
Lawson shook his head.
"He didn't choose it.""
"Who did?""
He swallowed.
"Someone who knew you were going to be part of the investigation before you even knew it yourself.""
Before I could respond, the hard drive's indicator light began flashing.
A message appeared on the connected monitor.
*ACCESS REQUEST RECEIVED.*
Then another line appeared.
*REMOTE WIPE INITIATED.*
Greene shouted.
"Disconnect it!""
Lawson pulled the cable.
The screen went black.
May you like
But not before a final message appeared.
*HELLO, AMARA. WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.*
