Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Archive
The Butler Library at Columbia University was my sanctuary. While the rest of New York rushed through neon-lit streets chasing status and money, the vaulted gothic ceilings offered a quiet, timeless refuge. But tonight, peace was out of reach.
Sitting at a mahogany study carrel illuminated by a brass lamp, I pored over original German maritime law manuscripts. Beside my laptop rested recovered wiretap transcripts and financial logs Rocco had discreetly delivered earlier that afternoon.
Even though Marcus was locked away awaiting trial, his sprawling offshore network didn't collapse overnight. Automated transaction protocols designed to trigger if he missed a check-in were still active.
My phone buzzed. Dominic’s private number flashed on the screen.
I slid my thumb across the screen. “Mr. Russo. If this is about the Frankfurt harbor clearance, I already routed the corrected bilingual compliance certificates.”
“It’s not about Frankfurt, Casey,” Dominic’s voice came through, unusually taut. “We have a new complication.”
I sat up straight. “What kind of complication? Did Marcus’s offshore accounts ping another syndicate?”
“Worse,” Dominic replied. “Marcus wasn't acting alone. He was a middleman for an older, more dangerous faction out of Chicago—the Moretti-Vance alliance. And they just sent a message to my primary shipping hub in Red Hook.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What kind of message?”
“A fire,” Dominic said flatly. “They burned down one of our primary cold-storage warehouses two hours ago. No casualties, but they left a calling card on the office door.”
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“What did it say?”
“A single word written in German,” Dominic paused. “Unverjährbar. Not statute-barred. They’re coming to reclaim what Marcus promised them, Casey. And they know you’re the one who unraveled their entire scheme.”
