Wrench & Blood

The Federal

The Rusted Spoke looked different at 6 AM.

In the dark, it had been a shadow—just another forgotten building in a forgotten part of Blackhaven. But in the pale gray light of early morning, Adam could see the cracks in the windows, the rust bleeding down the walls, the way the neon sign buzzed and flickered like a dying heartbeat.

He parked the sedan across the street and sat for a moment, watching.

No unmarked cars. No black SUVs. No men in suits pretending to read newspapers.

Just a diner, half-asleep, waiting for the breakfast crowd.

Micheal was two blocks away in a stolen pickup truck, engine running. Elena was in the alley behind the diner, hidden behind a dumpster. Adam had argued against bringing backup, but Micheal had been firm: "You walk into a meet with a fed alone, you walk into a coffin."

Adam checked his gun. Chambered round. Safety on. Tucked into his waistband at the small of his back.

He got out of the car and walked across the street.

---

The bell above the door jingled.

Inside, the Rusted Spoke was empty except for the cook behind the counter and a man sitting alone in the back corner booth.

The man stood up as Adam approached. He was in his forties, clean-shaven, with gray at his temples. He wore a cheap suit—off-the-rack, slightly too big. His hands were empty, resting on the table.

"Adam Kosta."

"Agent Harmon."

"Sit down."

Adam slid into the booth across from him. He kept his hands on the table, visible. Harmon did the same.

The cook called out, "Coffee?"

"Black," Adam said.

"Same," Harmon said.

The cook poured two cups and retreated to the kitchen.

Harmon studied Adam over the rim of his mug. "You look like him. Danny. Same stubborn jaw."

"You knew my brother."

"For three years. He was one of my best informants."

"Then why is he dead?"

Harmon set down his mug. His face was calm, but his eyes were tired. "Because Cindy Vance found out about him. We don't know how. Someone talked. Someone inside my office or inside her organization. We're still investigating."

"You're investigating? He's dead. What's to investigate?"

"Who betrayed him. Who sold him out. That person is still out there, Adam. Still feeding information to Cindy. Still putting other lives at risk."

"I don't care about other lives. I care about Danny."

"So do I." Harmon leaned forward. "Danny was a good man. He got into this because he wanted out. He wanted to disappear with enough money to start over. But he also wanted to take Cindy down. He hated what she was doing. The trafficking. The kids. He told me once that if he didn't stop her, he'd never be able to look at himself in the mirror."

Adam's throat tightened. That sounded like Danny. Stubborn. Reckless. Trying to be a hero.

"You could have protected him."

"I tried. I offered him witness protection. He refused. Said he wouldn't run while Cindy was still breathing."

"So you let him keep working."

"It was his choice."

"It was your job to keep him alive."

Harmon's jaw tightened. "You're right. I failed him. And I have to live with that. But I can still finish what he started."

"What do you want from me?"

"The ledger. And your help."

Adam laughed. It was a cold, hard sound. "You want me to become an informant? Like Danny?"

"I want you to give me the evidence I need to put Cindy Vance away for life. The ledger is a start, but it's not enough. It's circumstantial. Hearsay. I need something concrete. Something that ties her directly to the trafficking operation."

"Like what?"

"Like a recording. A photograph. A witness who saw her give an order. Something a jury can't ignore."

"And if I get it?"

"Then Cindy goes to federal prison. Not a state facility where she can bribe her way out. A supermax. She'll never see daylight again."

Adam thought about it. "And what do I get?"

*"Immunity. For you and anyone working with you. I don't care about the small stuff—the theft, the stolen cars, the unlicensed guns. I care about Cindy. Help me take her down, and you walk away clean."

"And if I refuse?"

Harmon pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket. He slid it across the table.

Adam unfolded it. It was a warrant. For his arrest. Charges included conspiracy to commit robbery, possession of stolen goods, and assault on a federal officer.

"That's not real," Adam said.

"It's real. And it's signed by a judge. If you walk out that door without agreeing to help me, I'll have you in custody before noon. You'll spend the next ten years in a cell while Cindy runs her operation from the outside."

Adam's hands shook. Not from fear. From rage.

"You're threatening me."

"I'm giving you a choice. Help me, and you're free. Walk away, and you're done."

"Danny trusted you. And he ended up dead."

"Danny trusted the wrong people. So did I. But I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to work with me. There's a difference."

Adam stared at him. The warrant. The ledger. Danny's face, cold and still on the concrete floor of Warehouse 14.

"I have conditions."

"Name them."

"First, I don't report to anyone but you. No other agents. No handlers. You want information, you come to me."

"Done."

"Second, I don't wear a wire. I don't record conversations. I bring you what I find, and you do what you want with it."

Harmon hesitated. "That's not how it works—"

"That's how it works with me. Take it or leave it."

A long pause. Then Harmon nodded. "Fine. No wire. But if you find something, you bring it to me immediately. No delays. No holding back."

"Third." Adam leaned forward. "When this is over, you give me Leo Cross."

Harmon's eyes narrowed. "Cross is a federal witness. He's connected to the cartel. I can't just—"

"You want my help? That's the price. Cross dies. However it happens. I don't care if it's in a shootout or a car accident or a heart attack in his sleep. But he doesn't walk. He doesn't get witness protection. He doesn't get a plea deal. He dies."

Harmon was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "I can't order a hit on a federal witness. That's murder."

"Then look the other way."

"You're asking me to compromise everything I've worked for."

"I'm asking you to avenge my brother. The same brother who died for you."

Harmon looked down at his coffee. When he looked up, his eyes were hard.

"I won't help you kill Cross. But I won't stop you either. Whatever happens to him after Cindy is in custody—that's between you and him."

Adam nodded. "That's enough."

---

They talked for another hour.

Harmon laid out everything he knew about Cindy's operation. The trafficking network ran through three states. The cartel supplied the girls. Cindy provided the logistics—transportation, safe houses, bribe money. The buyers were wealthy men from all over the country.

"We've been trying to build a case for four years," Harmon said. "But every time we get close, someone tips her off. Someone inside my office or inside local law enforcement. We've had three informants killed. Danny was the fourth."

"Who's the leak?"

"If I knew, I'd have arrested them. But I have suspicions."

"Who?"

"Detective Marcus Webb. He's been on Cindy's payroll for years. But he's not the only one. There are others. Higher up."

"How high?"

"High enough that I can't move without proof."

Adam thought about the ledger. Webb's name was in it. So were others. Judges. Council members. Cops.

"I'll get you proof," Adam said. "But I need something from you first."

"What?"

"I need to know who else Danny was working with. Inside Cindy's organization. Cole said there was an informant. Someone feeding Danny information."

Harmon's face went still. "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know. Danny never told me. He said the informant wanted to stay anonymous. Even from me."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you want. It's the truth."

Adam stared at him. Harmon stared back. Neither blinked.

Finally, Adam stood up. "I'll be in touch."

"Adam." Harmon reached into his jacket and pulled out a burner phone. "Use this. It's encrypted. Don't call from your personal phone. Don't text. If you need me, dial 1. I'll answer."

Adam took the phone. "One more thing."

"What?"

"If you're lying to me—if you set Danny up—I'll find out. And when I do, I'll come for you. Not Cindy. Not Cross. You."

Harmon's expression didn't change. "Understood."

Adam walked out of the diner.

---

Micheal was waiting in the pickup truck two blocks away. Adam slid into the passenger seat.

"Well?"

"He's a fed. Wants the ledger. Wants my help."

"You gave it to him?"

"I gave him nothing. Yet."

Micheal started the engine. "You trust him?"

"No. But he's useful. He has resources. Information. And he wants the same thing we do."

"Or he wants to use you and throw you away. Like Danny."

Adam looked out the window. The rain had started again, soft and steady.

"Then I'll make sure he can't."

They drove back to the safehouse in silence.

---

Inside, Elena was waiting with the others. Rosa had made coffee. Dom was cleaning a shotgun. Frank was studying the map.

"What did the fed want?" Elena asked.

"The same thing everyone wants. The ledger. And my soul."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we'd work together. For now."

Vince shook his head. "Bad idea. Feds are worse than gangs. At least gangs are honest about being criminals."

"Maybe. But Harmon has something we need."

"What's that?"

"A way out. Immunity. When this is over, we walk. No prison. No running. Just... free."

The room went quiet.

"You believe him?" Frank asked.

"I believe he wants Cindy more than he wants us. That's enough for now."

Adam pulled out the burner phone. He dialed 1.

Harmon answered on the first ring. "Changed your mind already?"

"No. But I need something."

"Name it."

"I need to know where Cross sleeps. Not the apartment. The real place. The one he doesn't tell anyone about."

A pause. "How do you know there is one?"

"Because everyone in Blackhaven has a bolt-hole. Even fed informants."

Another pause. Then Harmon said, "Cross has a cabin. Outside the city. North, about twenty miles. He uses it when he needs to disappear. No address. No road name. Just a dirt track off Route 9."

"How do you know?"

"Because Danny told me. He followed Cross there once."

"Did Danny ever go inside?"

"No. But he marked the location on a map. I have it in my files."

"Send it to me."

"Adam—"

"Send it."

Adam hung up.

Thirty seconds later, his phone buzzed. A photo. A hand-drawn map, marked with an X.

Adam studied it. Then he looked up at his crew.

"We're going hunting."