Chapter 9 - THE MAN BEHIND THE BADGEThe older Quill looked at the younger officer.
“Harlon.”
The younger man lowered his eyes.
“Sir.”
Delaney stared between them.
Father and son.
It explained the surname.
It explained the influence.
It explained the confidence.
The old man tapped his cane.
“Take the boy.”
Two men moved toward Ronan.
Delaney fired.
The bullet hit the concrete beside them.
Everyone scattered.
Mason tackled one guard.
Tyler ran.
Ronan grabbed Delaney.
They disappeared behind a vehicle.
The garage exploded into chaos.
The older Quill didn't move.
He simply watched.
“Kill Mason,” he said.
Someone fired.
Mason dropped.
Delaney screamed.
Ronan pulled her behind cover.
“Mason!”
No response.
The older Quill raised his hand.
“Enough.”
Everything stopped.
He walked toward them.
“You have your father's eyes.”
Delaney aimed at his chest.
“You killed him.”
“No.”
“You ordered it.”
“Yes.”
That honesty stunned her.
“Why?”
“Because he became difficult.”
Delaney's hand tightened.
“My father wasn't difficult.”
“He was dangerous.”
“He wanted justice.”
The old man smiled.
“Justice is an expensive luxury.”
He reached into his coat.
Pulled out an old photograph.
Daniel Voss.
Himself.
Graham.
Three younger men.
Quill pointed at Daniel.
“Your father was the smartest of us.”
“What were you doing?”
“Building the system.”
“What system?”
“The one you are standing inside.”
He gestured around the garage.
“Roads. Police. Courts. Contracts. Elections.”
“You controlled all of it?”
“We influenced it.”
Delaney felt sick.
“How many people died?”
The old man didn't answer.
“How many?”
“Enough.”
Ronan suddenly spoke.
“You killed my father.”
The old man looked at him.
“And you survived.”
Ronan stepped forward.
“Why?”
“Because your father hid the account inside your memory.”
Delaney looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
The old man smiled.
“Your father didn't trust passwords.”
He tapped Ronan's forehead.
“He trusted memories.”
Ronan's face went pale.
“You were there when the account was created.”
“I was eleven.”
“Yes.”
“You made me memorize something.”
The old man's smile widened.
“A children's song.”
Ronan whispered:
“The song.”
Delaney suddenly understood.
The melody Ronan had mentioned.
A sequence.
Not lyrics.
Numbers.
Dates.
Coordinates.
A code disguised as music.
The old Quill nodded.
“Your father taught you the key without telling you what it was.”
Ronan stepped backward.
“I don't remember.”
“Oh, you will.”
He turned toward one of the guards.
“Bring the device.”
A metal case was opened.
Inside was a laptop.
Graham approached.
The old Quill looked at him.
“You failed.”
Graham lowered his head.
“You gave the boy twelve years to remember.”
“I can fix it.”
“No.”
The old man raised his cane.
A gunshot echoed.
Graham fell.
Delaney stared.
Her uncle was dead.
Just like that.
The old Quill looked at Delaney.
“Now you understand.”
He walked closer.
“Everyone who tried to expose us believed they were fighting a criminal organization.”
He smiled.
“They were fighting a family.”
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness.
Gunfire erupted.
Someone screamed.
Ronan grabbed Delaney's wrist.
They ran.
A metal door appeared ahead.
They burst through it.
And when the lights came back on...
May you like
the old Quill was gone.
So was Ronan.
