Chapter 22 – A Body in the Harbor
Sharon sat in her hotel room, staring at the rain streaked window, her thoughts a tangle of signatures, vaults, and offshore accounts. The black phone vibrated, its encrypted alert lighting up the dark room.
She answered cautiously.
"Ms. Beckley," a distorted voice said. "You need to see this. Now."
The phone displayed a news alert:
"Former Laurent Global Attorney Found Dead in Zurich Harbor - Cause Under Investigation."
Sharon's stomach turned.
Michael Grayson... the man who had tried to warn her, had armed her with crucial information, had risked everything... was dead.
The article mentioned no suspects, only a body discovered at dawn. Zurich police were calling it a "tragic accident."
Sharon knew better.
No accident. Never an accident.
Sharon's mind replayed Michael's warnings, his desperate handoff of coordinates, and the small handgun he had brandished as she fled the café.
He had disappeared immediately after directing her to safety, swallowed by the shadows.
Now, the river claimed him.
Her pulse pounded.
She realized with terrifying clarity: the network she was up against would not hesitate to kill anyone with knowledge of the offshore accounts, the charity schemes, or the arms deals.
And she...
Sharon shivered.
She was next.
The black phone buzzed again. A simple text:
You are being watched. Move. Trust no one.
The implication was unmistakable. Someone had eyes on her now. Someone was tracking her every move.
The body in the harbor wasn't just a warning. It was a statement.
The rules of survival were stark: expose the corruption at your peril, but fail to survive, and death would follow.
Sharon decided she needed confirmation. She couldn't stay in the hotel. Not while Michael Grayson's murder hung like a specter over her.
She made her way to the harbor. Fog rolled in over the water, shrouding cranes and shipping containers. The lights of distant boats glimmered faintly.
Police and media crowded the scene, but Sharon moved at the edges of the crowd, silent, unseen.
The body had already been removed. Evidence taped, photos taken, statements recorded. The scene was sterile, clinical - sanitized.
Her gut twisted.
She knew the truth: whoever killed Michael had the power to manipulate the investigation. The authorities were puppets. The network behind Laurent Global was untouchable.
Sharon's breath fogged in the cold air.
She remembered the USB drive, the black phone, the vault, the signatures.
She realized something even more chilling: the deeper she dug into Georgia Laurent's world, the more bodies would fall.
And unless she could move faster, think smarter, and survive the shadows, she would be next.
From somewhere across the harbor, a faint splash echoed.
Sharon's head snapped up.
Someone was still in the water. Or someone was watching.
And the hunt was far from over.
