Chapter 3 - The Ghost Protocol
Julian couldn't go to the police. Genevieve owned the police commissioner. He couldn't go to the feds; the Vanguard PAC funded their pensions. He had to go to the ghosts.
He slipped into a derelict warehouse in the industrial district. Waiting inside was Silas, a disgraced former military chemist who owed Julian his life.
"I need a full breakdown of this compound," Julian said, tossing the pen onto Silas’s rusted metal desk. "And I need it an hour ago."
Silas placed the pen under a mass spectrometer. The screen lit up with a complex molecular chain. Silas whistled low.
"This is a proprietary synthetic paralytic, Julian," Silas said, adjusting his glasses. "It mimics a massive cardiac arrest. It’s untraceable in standard autopsies. There are only two labs in the world that manufacture this, and one of them is owned by the Sokolov syndicate in Moscow."
Julian’s eyes narrowed. "Genevieve married into the Vanguard family three years ago. Her background was supposedly old-money Boston."
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"Boston, my ass," Silas typed furiously on his keyboard. "I just ran the offshore shell companies linked to the Sokolov lab. The primary shareholder is a holding company called Emerald Apex. Registered to Genevieve Vanguard."
Julian had the proof. But proof didn't matter if you couldn't get it to the right people. He needed a proxy. He needed the true heir.
