Chapter 4 - The Fixer
The train ride to New York was a blur of paranoia.
Every time a conductor walked by, every time a passenger looked in my direction, I flinched.
I needed help. Not the police—Tyler had made it clear that Harrison had people everywhere.
I opened the folder on Tyler's hard drive again, using my laptop in the dim light of the train car.
Inside the Insurance Policy folder, there was a text document named CONTACTS.
I clicked it. It contained one name and a phone number.
Elias Thorne. Private Security/Asset Recovery. Tell him 'The Phoenix is flying.'
My thirteen-year-old son had hired a mercenary.
The moment the train pulled into Penn Station, I bought a burner phone from a bodega and dialed the number.
It rang twice before a smooth, calm voice answered.
"Speak."
"The Phoenix is flying," I whispered, my voice trembling.
There was a pause on the other end.
"Mrs. Vance. I've been waiting for your call. Your son is a very resourceful young man."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Walk out of the 8th Avenue exit. Look for a black Lincoln Continental. License plate ends in 7-X-Ray."
"How do I know I can trust you?" I challenged. "How do I know Harrison didn't hire you?"
Elias chuckled, though it lacked any warmth.
"Because if Harrison hired me, you'd be in the trunk of a car right now, not on a burner phone. Your son paid my retainer from a decentralized crypto wallet three weeks ago. My loyalty is to the contract."
I hung up.
I found the Lincoln exactly where he said it would be.
The door opened from the inside, and I slid into the back seat.
Elias Thorne was in his late forties, with striking gray eyes and a tailored suit that hid the bulk of a shoulder holster.
"We need to move," Elias said, pulling into the chaotic Manhattan traffic. "Harrison's men are already tracking your credit cards. I assume you have the black card Tyler provided?"
"Yes," I said, clutching my bag.
"Good. That account is completely untraceable. It routes through five different international shell banks before hitting the master account."
He looked at me through the rearview mirror.
"Your son essentially built a financial ghost ship to hide you, Mrs. Vance. But it won't matter if Harrison's associates in Geneva realize what Tyler is doing."
"What exactly is he doing?" I demanded.
"Tyler is currently sitting in a hotel suite in Switzerland, hacking into the main server of the Bratva—the Russian syndicate Harrison is laundering money for."
My stomach dropped.
"If they catch him..."
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"They won't just kill him, Mrs. Vance. They'll make an example of him," Elias said bluntly.
"Which is why we aren't going to hide. We are going to burn Harrison's empire to the ground before he even realizes the match has been struck."
