Chapter 3 - THE HOTEL THAT BELONGED TO ASA
Asa wanted the security footage.
Marin wanted him to stay alive.
They compromised.
Poorly.
She stole nothing.
She simply knew Mr. Harris’s habits.
At 2:40 a.m., the sixty-two-year-old security guard slept beneath the lobby television while Marin cleaned around the desk.
His monitor remained unlocked.
She did not access private systems before Asa explained exactly what timestamp mattered.
Then she stopped.
“No.”
Asa, hidden inside the service hallway behind her, frowned.
“What?”
“I’m not breaking into your security system.”
“It’s my system.”
“It’s my job if I get caught.”
That stopped him.
Important difference.
Asa said:
“Then wake Harris and tell him I authorize it.”
“You’re officially dead.”
“Missing.”
“Same problem.”
They waited.
At 5:50 a.m., Asa’s condition worsened again.
No footage.
No answers.
Marin left work, slept four hours, then returned with something unexpected.
A lawyer.
Not a mafia lawyer.
Legal-aid attorney.
Tessa Nguyen.
Marin had once met her through a debt-relief clinic.
Tessa stared at Asa inside the wine room.
Then at Marin.
Then:
“You called me about employment records.”
“Yes.”
“You neglected to mention the armed organized-crime leader.”
“He’s less armed now.”
Asa glared.
Tessa did not seem impressed.
Good.
Marin explained:
The hotel might possess security footage relevant to an attempted murder.
Asa, through his legitimate company counsel, could preserve it.
Lawfully.
No Marin risking prison.
Asa made one call from a clean phone Tessa brought.
Not to Nolan.
To a corporate attorney.
Within an hour, preservation orders went out.
The footage came later that evening.
Delivery entrance.
2:07 a.m.
Snow.
A black SUV stopped in the alley.
Driver door opened.
No one emerged.
Then rear door.
Asa fell out.
Not climbed.
Fell.
Vehicle left.
Marin stared.
“Someone dumped you.”
“Yes.”
Then another camera caught the license plate.
Fleet vehicle.
Owned by:
Thornton Security Services.
Asa’s own organization.
His face went cold in a way that had nothing to do with the compound.
“Who had that SUV?”
Corporate fleet logs.
Assigned:
Nolan Pierce.
Marin looked at him.
He said nothing.
The man he trusted with his life had owned the vehicle that dumped his body behind a hotel.
Then another frame.
Driver profile.
Blurry.
Not Nolan.
Too short.
Different build.
So Nolan’s vehicle.
Someone else driving.
Then Tessa found a detail.
At 1:32 a.m., the SUV passed another camera near the hotel.
Passenger seat:
A man.
Head turned.
Face partially visible.
Asa leaned closer.
His expression changed.
“Who?” Marin asked.
Asa whispered:
“My brother.”
Marin frowned.
“I thought you were an only child.”
“So did most people.”
Name:
Gideon Thornton.
Older half brother.
Officially dead nineteen years.
Apparently Chicago had a disturbing relationship with dead relatives.
Then Asa said:
“If Gideon is alive, Nolan may not be the traitor.”
“Why?”
May you like
“Because Gideon taught him everything.”
And according to Asa, Gideon was also the man responsible for Northlake Therapeutics.
