Ch.20: The Heist Plan

I didn't go back to the courthouse. I went to the prison.

"I need to see my client," I told the desk sergeant. "Emergency consultation."

"Again?" He frowned. "Judge said one visit per day."

"The judge also just admitted evidence that the arresting officer was bribed," I said, leaning over the counter. "Do you really want to be the next name on my discovery list?"

He buzzed me in.

Julian was waiting. He saw the look on my face—the mix of fear and adrenaline—and stood up immediately.

"You found her."

"I found a signal," I said, slamming the map of the harbor onto the table. "The Gilded Cage. It's an oil rig owned by a shell company linked to Sterling. The GPS tag puts her right in the center."

Julian studied the map. His expression darkened.

"The Cage isn't a safe house, Harper. It's a fortress. Private military contractors. Automated defense turrets. You can't just knock on the door with a subpoena."

"I know," I said. "That's why I'm not going in as a lawyer."

I pulled out the blueprints I had downloaded from the city archives.

"There's a supply run every Tuesday night at 0300. A drone barge docks at the lower platform to offload food and fuel. If I can get on that barge..."

"You'll be dead before you step off it," Julian cut in. "The barge is scanned by thermal imaging. If there's a heartbeat on board that isn't logged in the manifest, the turrets fire automatically."

"So I hack the manifest," I said. "I use the shard. I insert my biometrics."

"The shard is a key, not a magic wand. It can open doors, but it can't cloak you from thermal sensors."

He paced the cell, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You need a ghost," he said. "Someone who can disable the sensors from the inside before you arrive."

"I don't have a ghost, Julian. I have a burner phone and a stapled dress."

"No," he said, stopping in front of me. "You have me."

He walked to the corner of the cell, to the loose brick near the floor. He pried it open. Inside wasn't a shiv or drugs. It was a small, black comms unit.

"How..." I started.

"I own the prison, Harper. Remember?"

He pressed a button on the device. It chirped once.

"Status," Julian said into the mic.

A voice crackled back. Distorted. Mechanical.

*"Active. Awaiting orders."*

Julian looked at me.

"This is The Cleaner," he said. "My head of security. The man Kael warned you about."

"The man my brother was meeting with," I said, my voice cold.

"Yes," Julian said. "Because Liam was trying to sell him the encryption key. He was trying to sell it to me."

He handed me the comms unit.

"The Cleaner is already in position. He's been monitoring the rig for weeks, waiting for a sign of the drive. He can get you in."

I stared at the device. I was about to conspire with a mercenary paid by the man accused of killing my brother.

"He's a killer," I whispered.

"He's a professional," Julian corrected. "And right now, he's the only way you get onto that rig without being turned into pink mist."

I took the device. It felt heavy.

"What do I do?"

"Go to the docks. Sector 1. There's a warehouse marked 'Vane Logistics.' The Cleaner will meet you there. He'll have the gear. He'll have the plan."

"And you?"

"I'll stay here," Julian said, sitting back down on his cot. "And pray you don't get us both killed."

I walked out of the prison and into the night. The rain had returned, a cold, relentless drizzle that soaked through my coat.

I took a taxi to the edge of Sector 1, then walked the rest of the way. The warehouse district was a graveyard of rusted metal and broken glass. Shadows stretched long and thin under the flickering streetlights.

I found the building. **VANE LOGISTICS.** The sign was faded, peeling.

The door was locked.

I pressed the comms unit. "I'm here."

*"Side door,"* the mechanical voice replied. *"It's open."*

I walked around the building. The side door was a heavy steel slab. I pushed it. It groaned open.

The interior was pitch black.

"Hello?" I called out.

Lights flickered on. High-intensity floodlights that blinded me for a second.

When my eyes adjusted, I saw him.

He was standing in the center of the warehouse, surrounded by racks of high-tech equipment. Drones. Weapons. Tactical gear.

He was huge. A mountain of muscle in gray urban camouflage. He wore a full-face mask, smooth and featureless like a mannequin.

"You're late," The Cleaner said. His voice wasn't distorted anymore. It was deep, gravelly.

"Traffic," I said, trying to sound brave.

He walked toward me. He moved silently for a man of his size. He stopped a few feet away, looking down at me.

"You're the lawyer," he stated.

"I'm the sister."

He huffed. A sound that might have been a laugh.

"Same thing tonight."

He turned and walked to a table covered in gear. He picked up a black wetsuit.

"Put this on. The water is freezing. If you fall in, you have three minutes before hypothermia sets in."

I looked at the suit. "I'm not swimming."

"You are if the drone barge sinks," he said. "Which it might, if Sterling's security gets lucky."

He tossed me the suit. I caught it.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked. "You work for Julian. But you knew Liam. Kael said you knew him."

The Cleaner froze. He put down the rifle he was checking.

He turned slowly to face me.

"Kael talks too much," he said.

"Did you kill him?" I asked, my hand drifting to the scalpel in my pocket. "Did you kill my brother because the deal went bad?"

The Cleaner reached up and pulled off his mask.

I gasped.

Half his face was a ruin of burn scars. But the other half... the other half was familiar. I had seen it in old photographs. I had seen it in the mirror.

He looked like...

No. That was impossible.

"I didn't kill him, Harper," the man said, his one good eye watching me with a sadness that broke my heart. "I tried to save him."

He stepped closer.

"Liam wasn't just a coder. He was my son."

I dropped the wetsuit.

"What?"

"I'm not just The Cleaner," he said. "I'm your uncle. The one your father told you died in the war."

The room spun. My uncle? My father's brother? The black sheep of the family who vanished twenty years ago?

"You're... you're Uncle Jack?"

"I go by Silas now," he said. "But yes."

"And Liam..."

"He found me," Silas said. "He tracked me down. He needed help selling the key. He trusted me."

He looked at the floor.

"And I failed him. I let Sterling get to him first."

He looked up, his scarred face twisting into a mask of rage.

"But I won't fail you. Tonight, we're not just breaking into a rig. We're going to burn Sterling's empire to the ground."

He handed me a weapon. A stun baton.

"You ready to break the law, Counselor?"

I gripped the baton. It hummed with power.

"I'm done with the law," I said. "I want justice."

We walked toward the loading bay, where a small, stealth boat was waiting in the dark water.

I wasn't just a lawyer anymore. I was an accomplice. And I was going to war with my family by my side.