THE LAST ALIBI

The Information Broker

The hinges on the steel door had rusted shut. Cole put his shoulder against it, felt the give, and drove forward again. The metal groaned, complained, then yielded. He stumbled through the opening and caught himself on the opposite wall, his palms flat against cold concrete.

The warehouse was empty. Vast. A cavern of shadow and silence.

He moved through the space, his footsteps echoing off the distant walls. The air smelled of dust and decay, of oil and old machinery. Somewhere above, pigeons cooed in the rafters, their sounds distorted by the acoustics of the hollow space.

He found the staircase tucked in the corner, hidden behind a stack of rotting pallets. The steps were metal, the kind that rang with every footfall. He climbed slowly, his boots echoing a rhythm that seemed far too loud.

The second floor was a warren of offices, their windows dark, their doors hanging open. He walked past them, scanning for signs of life. A mouse scurried across the floor, disappearing through a crack in the wall.

He reached the end of the corridor. A door. Steel, like the one below, but newer. A single light bulb hung above it, casting a weak yellow glow.

Cole knocked. Three times. Paused. Twice more.

A lock clicked. The door swung open a crack.

The man who answered was small, wiry, with spectacles perched on a thin nose. He wore a cardigan that had seen better decades, and his hands were stained with ink.

"You're late," he said.

"The roads weren't clear."

"They never are."

He stepped aside, and Cole entered.

The office was a sanctuary of chaos. Papers piled on every surface, spilling off desks and filing cabinets, cascading onto the floor. Books lined the walls, their spines cracked with age. A computer hummed in the corner, its screen flickering with dense columns of data.

The man, whose name was Roman, sat behind the desk and gestured for Cole to take the chair opposite him.

"I heard about the attack on the safe house," Roman said. "You lost people."

Cole's jaw tightened. "I lost no one. But they got close."

"Close is losing. Close means they know where you sleep."

The man's gaze was sharp, his focus unwavering. He reached into his desk and pulled out a folder, its edges worn, its contents dense.

"I've been tracking your mother's network for three years," Roman said. "I have names. Locations. Associates. But I need something from you."

"What?"

"I need you to confirm a name. A doctor in Geneva. He's been treating someone in her inner circle. If I have that confirmation, the whole thing unravels."

Cole leaned forward. "What's his name?"

"Dr. Lukas Meyer. He's known for treating high-profile clients who need discretion. If she's been seeing him, it means she's sick. It means she's vulnerable."

"I'll find out."

Roman nodded. He slid a photograph across the desk. A man, mid-fifties, with silver-streaked hair and a placid expression.

Cole studied the image, committing it to memory. Then he looked up.

"What's the real reason you're helping me, Roman?"

The man was silent. He looked down at his hands, then back at Cole.

"I was in the Consortium, once," he said. "A long time ago. I saw what your mother did. I saw her climb. I saw the bodies she left behind. And I knew that one day, she would come for me too."

Roman reached into his desk drawer. His hand emerged holding a small flash drive.

"This is everything I have. Dates, locations, transactions, associates. Use it. Burn her empire to the ground."

Cole took the flash drive. It was warm in his palm.

"This is all I've been working on for the past year," Roman continued. "Every hour I didn't sleep, I was adding to this. Every contact who died, I kept their information alive. It's yours now."

"I'll make it count."

Roman nodded. "I know you will. That's why I gave it to you."

Cole stood. He moved toward the door, then paused.

"If Evelyn finds out you helped me—"

"She already knows. That's why this is our last meeting. I'll disappear. You'll never see me again."

Cole turned to look at him.

Roman met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Make it count, Cole. For all of us."

---

The drive back to the motel was long. Cole's mind churned with the information. Names, dates, transactions. The structure of his mother's network was becoming clear.

He parked behind the motel, killed the engine, and sat for a moment in the silence.

Clark was waiting in the room. Lily was asleep on the bed. Cole took the flash drive from his pocket and held it up.

"I have everything," he said. "The full network. Her allies. Her enemies. Her weaknesses."

Clark's eyes widened. "How did you get all that?"

"From an old contact of mine. He's been tracking her for years."

Cole sat on the edge of the bed, his hands shaking with exhaustion.

"She's been using the system to hide her operations. But there are cracks. Cracks I'm going to exploit."

Clark nodded. "Then what's the plan?"

"We attack from the outside. We break her allies first, then we go after her."

Cole opened the folder he'd also taken from Roman and began to study it.

Lily stirred on the bed. She blinked slowly, her eyes finding him in the dim light.

"Did you find what you needed?" she asked.

"I found the truth," he said. "The rest is up to us."

---

The information was overwhelming. In the flickering glow of the motel's lamp, Cole spent hours cross-referencing Roman's files with the memory stick from the Widow. A pattern began to emerge. A network of financial institutions, each one funneling money toward a central hub. A list of contacts in law enforcement and government, all of them bought and paid for.

He isolated a name: *Samuel Grayson.* A U.S. senator with connections to several of the shell companies Evelyn had used. Cole highlighted him as a key target. If they could turn him, they could break the network.

The phone rang, and Cole picked it up.

"Cole, it's me. I have the information on Grayson. He's been taking money from a shell company linked to your mother for six years. But there's a catch. He's been laundering it through another account—one that belongs to your brother."

Clark looked up from where he was standing, his face confused. "What?"

Cole felt the floor give way. "That's impossible."

"It's not impossible," the voice on the phone continued. "The trail is there. I've traced it back. Grayson's been funneling the money into an account that's got Clark's name on it. I don't know if he's in on it, or if he's being set up. But you need to figure it out, and fast."

Cole's hand trembled. "Thank you. I'll look into it."

He hung up and turned to Clark, his face pale.

Clark's expression shifted from confusion to alarm. "What is it?"

Cole told him.

Clark's face hardened. "I've never seen that account before. I don't know anything about it."

"Someone is setting you up. Or they're trying to frame you."

"Your mother?" Lily asked, sitting up on the bed, her voice heavy with concern.

"It's possible. She's been trying to divide us from the inside. Alexander, then Lily, now Clark. If she can make us distrust each other, she wins."

Clark's jaw was tight. "What do we do?"

"We find the source of the account. We trace it back to her. And we use it against her."

Cole pulled up the file on his laptop, his fingers moving fast across the keyboard. Then he paused.

"If this is her," he said slowly, "then she's been planning this for years. And that means we're walking into a trap. Again."

---

The night deepened. The motel room was quiet. Clark was in the corner, staring at his phone, his jaw tight.

Cole watched him from across the room. He saw the doubt in his brother's eyes. The fear.

"Clark," he said, his voice low.

Clark looked up. "What?"

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

Clark's expression softened. "I just want it to end."

Cole stood. "It will. I promise."

He walked to the door, his hand on the handle.

"I'm going to check the perimeter."

He stepped out into the night.

The air was cold. The parking lot was dark. He walked around the motel, his eyes scanning the shadows.

Then he saw it. A car, parked at the far end of the lot. The engine was off. The windows were dark.

But there was a figure inside. Watching.

Cole moved toward it, his hand on his pistol. He reached the driver's side window and tapped on the glass.

The window rolled down. A woman's face looked up at him.

"Mr. Mathers," she said. "I need to talk to you."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Anna. I work for your mother." She paused. "I also know she's planning to kill you. Tonight."

Cole's hand tightened on his pistol.

"And why should I believe you?"

She looked up at him, her gaze steady.

"Because I'm the one who poisoned your father."

The world tilted. Cole stared at her, his mind reeling.

"I was the one who was in the sanatorium," she said. "I was the one who drugged him. She had me do it. And now she's come for me too."

Cole pulled her out of the car, his hands gripping her arm.

"You're going to tell me everything you know."

They walked toward the motel room.

And the night stretched on, dark and uncertain.

---

The motel room was small, the air thick with the weight of secrets. Cole's hands were steady, but his mind was racing.

She was going to kill him. Tonight.

He stood by the window, looking out at the darkness. The car was still there, the woman inside. He didn't know if she was telling the truth.

But he was going to find out.