THE LAST ALIBI

The List

The folder sat on the kitchen table like a coiled snake. Twenty-three names. Twenty-three enemies. Twenty-three people who had helped build the Consortium and were still alive. Still free. Still dangerous.

Cole stared at the list. He had been up all night reading it. Memorizing it. Committing every name, every location, every connection to memory.

The first name was Marcus Vance. Already dead. Cole had crossed it out with a red pen.

The second name was Vanessa Cross. Also dead. He had killed her himself.

The third name was someone he didn't recognize. A woman. Her name was Elena Petrov. She lived in Moscow. She was a banker. She had laundered billions for the Consortium.

The fourth name was a man. Viktor Volkov. Also Moscow. Also a banker. Also a killer.

The list went on. Twenty-three names. Twenty-three enemies.

Cole closed the folder. He needed help. He couldn't do this alone.

---

Clark came downstairs at 7 AM. His hair was wet. He had been running.

"You're up early," he said.

"I never went to sleep."

Clark sat across from him. "The list?"

Cole nodded. "Twenty-three names. All still alive. All still dangerous."

"What's the plan?"

Cole opened the folder. "We start with the ones closest to home. The ones we can reach quickly. Then we work our way out."

"Who's closest?"

Cole pointed to a name. "David Chen. He's a judge in Baltimore. He's been taking bribes for years. He's the one who signed the order to have me arrested."

"Can we prove it?"

"I have the evidence. In the folder. Bank records. Emails. Photographs."

"Then we go to Baltimore."

Cole nodded. "We go to Baltimore."

---

The drive to Baltimore took two hours. Cole and Clark drove in silence. The folder was on the back seat. The evidence was inside.

The courthouse was old. Marble floors. High ceilings. Cole walked through the metal detector. His fake ID worked. He was in.

Judge David Chen's chambers were on the third floor. Cole knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Cole walked in. Clark followed.

Judge Chen looked up. His face went pale.

"Mr. Mathers. You're supposed to be in prison."

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things."

Chen reached for his phone. Clark was faster. He knocked it away.

"We need to talk," Cole said.

"About what?"

"About the bribes you took. The orders you signed. The people you helped."

Chen's face went white. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Cole opened the folder. Pulled out a photograph. Chen shaking hands with Victor Cross. An envelope in Chen's other hand.

"This was taken three years ago. At a hotel in Washington. You were paid fifty thousand dollars to sign an order dismissing charges against one of Cross's associates."

Chen stared at the photograph. His hands were shaking.

"I had no choice. He threatened my family."

"Everyone has a choice."

"I did what I had to do."

Cole closed the folder. "You have two options. You can resign. Publicly. Admit everything. Or I can release these photos to every news outlet in the country."

Chen sat down. His head was in his hands.

"If I resign, they'll kill me."

"Then we'll protect you."

"You can't protect me. No one can."

Cole walked closer. "I can. I've been protecting people for years. I know how."

Chen looked up. His eyes were wet.

"Fine. I'll resign. I'll admit everything."

Cole nodded. "Thank you."

He walked out. Clark followed.

"One down," Clark said.

"Twenty-two to go."

---

The next name was in Philadelphia. A man named Robert Hayes. He was a police commissioner. He had been on the Consortium's payroll for years.

Cole and Clark drove to Philadelphia. The city was gray. The buildings were old.

Hayes's office was in City Hall. Cole walked in. His fake ID worked again.

Hayes was at his desk. He was a large man. Red face. Sweating.

"Mr. Mathers. I've been expecting you."

"You knew I'd come."

"I counted on it." Hayes reached into his desk. Pulled out a pistol.

Cole was faster. He disarmed him. Pushed him against the wall.

"You're under arrest," Cole said.

"For what?"

"For conspiracy to commit murder. For bribery. For corruption."

Hayes laughed. It was bitter.

"You can't prove anything."

Cole pulled out a folder. Photographs. Bank records. Emails.

"Try me."

Hayes stared at the evidence. His face went pale.

"I'll talk. I'll tell you everything."

"Then talk."

Hayes talked. For two hours. About the bribes. About the killings. About the people who had paid him.

Cole recorded everything.

When Hayes finished, Cole stood.

"You're going to prison."

"I know."

"Good."

---

The next name was in New York. A woman named Margaret Vance. She was Julian Vance's wife. She had been running the American operations since Julian went to prison.

Cole and Clark drove to New York. The city was loud. Crowded. Bright.

Margaret lived in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue. The building was tall. Glass. Steel.

Cole walked through the lobby. The doorman recognized him.

"Mr. Mathers. She's expecting you."

"Good."

The elevator was silent. The floor numbers climbed.

Margaret was in the living room. She was older than her photograph. Gray hair. Cold eyes.

"Cole Mathers. I was wondering when you'd come."

"You knew I'd find you."

"I counted on it." She gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Cole sat. Clark stood by the door.

"What do you want?" Margaret asked.

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll destroy everything you've built. Your money. Your power. Your legacy."

Margaret laughed. "You think you can destroy me? I've been doing this for thirty years. I've survived wars. I've survived enemies. I've survived everything."

"You haven't survived me."

She leaned forward. "What makes you so special?"

Cole pulled out a folder. Photographs. Bank records. Emails.

"This," he said. "Evidence of every crime you've ever committed. Every bribe you've ever taken. Every murder you've ever ordered."

Margaret stared at the folder. Her hands were shaking.

"You can't prove anything."

"I can. And I will."

Margaret sat back. Her face was pale.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I release these photos to every news outlet in the country. You go to prison. Your family goes to prison. Everyone you've ever loved goes to prison."

Margaret was silent. The clock ticked.

"Fine," she said. "I'll surrender."

Cole nodded. "Good."

---

The next week was a blur. Cole and Clark moved through the country. One name at a time. One enemy at a time.

Some surrendered. Others fought. A few died.

Cole did what he had to do. He didn't enjoy it. But he didn't stop.

By the end of the week, they had captured or killed eighteen of the twenty-three names.

Five remained. All in Europe. All protected. All dangerous.

---

The first European target was in London. A man named Marcus Webb. He was a banker. He had laundered billions for the Consortium.

Cole flew to London. Clark stayed behind. Someone needed to protect the family.

Webb's office was in Canary Wharf. Glass. Steel. High-tech.

Cole walked through the lobby. The receptionist looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"Marcus Webb. I'm here to see him."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Tell him it's about the Consortium. He'll see me."

The receptionist made a call. Then she nodded.

"Twentieth floor."

The elevator was silent. The floor numbers climbed.

Webb was in his office. He was older than his photograph. Gray hair. Tired eyes.

"Cole Mathers. I was wondering when you'd come."

"You knew I'd find you."

"I counted on it." He gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Cole sat. "What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll destroy everything you've built. Your money. Your power. Your legacy."

Webb laughed. "You think you can destroy me? I've been doing this for forty years. I've survived wars. I've survived enemies. I've survived everything."

"You haven't survived me."

Webb leaned forward. "What makes you so special?"

Cole pulled out a folder. Photographs. Bank records. Emails.

"This. Evidence of every crime you've ever committed."

Webb stared at the folder. His hands were shaking.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I release these photos to every news outlet in the world. You go to prison. Your family goes to prison. Everyone you've ever loved goes to prison."

Webb was silent. The clock ticked.

"Fine," he said. "I'll surrender."

Cole nodded. "Good."

---

The next target was in Paris. A woman named Sophie Moreau. She was an art dealer. She had been selling stolen art for the Consortium for years.

Cole flew to Paris. The city was beautiful. Old. Full of history.

Sophie lived in a penthouse in the Marais. The building was old. Stone. Iron balconies.

Cole walked through the lobby. The concierge recognized him.

"Mr. Mathers. She's expecting you."

"Good."

The elevator was small. The floor numbers climbed.

Sophie was in the living room. She was younger than her photograph. Dark hair. Sharp eyes.

"Cole Mathers. I was wondering when you'd come."

"You knew I'd find you."

"I counted on it." She gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Cole sat. "What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll destroy everything you've built."

Sophie laughed. "You think you can destroy me? I've been doing this for twenty years. I've survived everything."

"You haven't survived me."

Sophie leaned forward. "What makes you so special?"

Cole pulled out a folder. Photographs. Bank records. Emails.

"This. Evidence of every crime you've ever committed."

Sophie stared at the folder. Her hands were shaking.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I release these photos to every news outlet in the world."

Sophie was silent. The clock ticked.

"Fine," she said. "I'll surrender."

Cole nodded. "Good."

---

The next three targets were in Moscow. Elena Petrov. Viktor Volkov. And a man named Dimitri Ivanov.

Cole flew to Moscow. The city was cold. The buildings were gray.

The first target was Elena Petrov. She was a banker. She had laundered billions for the Consortium.

Her office was in the financial district. Glass. Steel. High-tech.

Cole walked through the lobby. The security guard stopped him.

"Name?"

"Cole Mathers. I'm here to see Elena Petrov."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Tell her it's about the Consortium. She'll see me."

The guard made a call. Then he nodded.

"Fifteenth floor."

The elevator was silent. The floor numbers climbed.

Elena was in her office. She was older than her photograph. Gray hair. Cold eyes.

"Cole Mathers. I was wondering when you'd come."

"You knew I'd find you."

"I counted on it." She gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Cole sat. "What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll destroy everything you've built."

Elena laughed. "You think you can destroy me? I've been doing this for thirty years. I've survived everything."

"You haven't survived me."

Elena leaned forward. "What makes you so special?"

Cole pulled out a folder. Photographs. Bank records. Emails.

"This. Evidence of every crime you've ever committed."

Elena stared at the folder. Her hands were shaking.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I release these photos to every news outlet in the world."

Elena was silent. The clock ticked.

"Fine," she said. "I'll surrender."

Cole nodded. "Good."

---

The next target was Viktor Volkov. He was a banker. He had been involved with the Consortium for years.

His office was in the same building. Cole walked in. The same routine. The same result.

Viktor surrendered.

The last target was Dimitri Ivanov. He was a former KGB agent. He had been involved with the Consortium since the beginning.

His office was in a different building. Older. Darker.

Cole walked through the lobby. The security guard was large. Muscular.

"Name?"

"Cole Mathers. I'm here to see Dimitri Ivanov."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Tell him it's about the Consortium. He'll see me."

The guard made a call. Then he nodded.

"Tenth floor."

The elevator was old. Creaking. The floor numbers climbed.

Dimitri was in his office. He was older. Gray hair. Cold eyes.

"Cole Mathers. I've been waiting for you."

"You knew I'd come."

"I counted on it." He gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Cole sat. "What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll destroy everything you've built."

Dimitri laughed. "You think you can destroy me? I've been doing this for forty years. I've survived everything."

"You haven't survived me."

Dimitri leaned forward. "What makes you so special?"

Cole pulled out a folder. Photographs. Bank records. Emails.

"This. Evidence of every crime you've ever committed."

Dimitri stared at the folder. His hands were shaking.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender. To face justice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I release these photos to every news outlet in the world."

Dimitri was silent. The clock ticked.

"Fine," he said. "I'll surrender."

Cole nodded. "Good."

---

Cole flew back to the United States. The plane was quiet. The sky was dark.

He had done it. Twenty-three names. Twenty-three enemies. All captured or dead.

The Consortium was finally finished.

Cole sat in his seat. Closed his eyes.

The war was over.

He was finally free.

*Cole walked into the farmhouse at dawn. The sun was rising. The sky was pink.*

*Evelyn was on the porch.*

*"Cole. You're back."*

*"I'm back."*

*"For good?"*

*Cole looked at his mother. At the farmhouse. At the family inside.*

*"Yes. For good."*

*She hugged him. Held on tight.*

*"I'm so proud of you."*

*"I couldn't have done it without you."*

*They walked inside. The family was waiting.*

*Cole sat at the table. His family around him.*

*The war was over.*

*He was home.*

*Finally.*