DEAD DROP

The Ten Names

Marcus woke to sunlight and the smell of coffee.

He was on a cot in the convention center’s back office. Claire was asleep beside him, her injured arm draped across his chest. His nose was bandaged, his head throbbed, but he was alive.

He checked his phone. 7:15 AM. Three missed messages.

The first was from the unknown texter: “Start with Senator Elizabeth Moray. She’s clean. She’s powerful. She’s been looking for someone like you.”

The second was from Kay: “Cured fifty-two sleepers. Need more supplies.”

The third was from Damian: “FBI wants to talk. Called three times.”

Marcus sat up slowly. Claire stirred.

“What time is it?”

“Early. Go back to sleep.”

“No.” She sat up, wincing at her shoulder. “What’s the plan?”

“We make calls.”

---

Senator Elizabeth Moray’s office was in the Hart Senate Office Building, three hundred miles away. But she had a field office in Crescent City. Marcus called at 8:00 AM.

A staffer answered. “Senator Moray’s office. How can I help?”

“My name is Marcus Cole. The senator should be expecting my call.”

A pause. “One moment.”

Thirty seconds later, a woman’s voice came on the line. Not a staffer. The senator herself.

“Mr. Cole. I’ve been following your story.”

“Then you know why I’m calling.”

“I have my suspicions. But I’d rather hear it from you in person.”

“When?”

“Today. My office. 2:00 PM.”

The line went dead.

---

Marcus gathered the team in the convention center’s main hall.

The sleepers were spread across the floor on cots. Volunteers moved among them. Lena was at a whiteboard, tracking cure progress.

“Senator Moray wants to meet,” Marcus said. “She’s the first name on the list.”

“The list from the texter?” Claire asked.

“Yes.”

“Do we trust it?”

“We trust it enough to check it out.”

Damian crossed his arms. “I’ll go with you.”

“No. You stay here. Protect the sleepers. Kay, you’re with me.”

Kay looked up from her laptop. “Why me?”

“Because if the senator is legit, she’ll want to see the files. You’re the only one who can show them.”

“And Claire?”

Claire answered before Marcus could. “I’m coming too. My arm is fine.”

“Your arm is in a sling.”

“Then I’ll take it out of the sling.”

Marcus sighed. “Fine. But you stay in the car.”

---

The drive to Senator Moray’s field office took twenty minutes.

The building was a glass tower in the financial district. Security at the lobby. Metal detectors. Guards with sidearms.

Marcus showed his ID. The guard made a call. Then he waved them through.

Senator Moray’s office was on the twelfth floor. The door was oak, like every other door in the building. A receptionist in a navy suit smiled.

“Mr. Cole. The senator will see you now.”

Marcus walked in. Kay followed.

The office was large but not lavish. Bookshelves. A desk. A window overlooking the city. And a woman in her fifties with grey-streaked hair and sharp green eyes.

Senator Elizabeth Moray.

“Mr. Cole,” she said, standing. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for seeing me.”

She gestured to the chairs. Marcus sat. Kay sat beside him.

“I’ve read the leaks,” Moray said. “The files you released. The ones about the Lazarus Account.”

“Then you know what Silas Vane was doing.”

“I know what he was accused of doing. There’s a difference.”

Marcus pulled out his phone. He showed her a video—one of the recordings from the bunker. A client describing how he had paid for a new body. A younger body.

Moray watched. Her face didn’t change.

“That’s compelling,” she said. “But it’s not enough.”

“It’s enough to start an investigation.”

“The FBI is already investigating.”

“The FBI is compromised. The deputy director was protecting Volkov.”

Moray’s eyes narrowed. “You have proof of that?”

Kay opened her laptop. She showed the senator the transactions. The emails. The meetings.

Moray read in silence.

Then she looked up. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to use your position. Your committees. Your subpoena power. I want you to go after the people who funded this. The ones who are still free.”

“That’s a long list.”

“It’s ten names. To start.”

Marcus handed her the list from the texter. Senator Moray studied it.

“Some of these people are my colleagues.”

“I know.”

“If I go after them, I make enemies.”

“You already have enemies. The question is whether you have courage.”

Moray set the list down. She looked at Marcus for a long moment.

“I’ll need more evidence.”

“Kay will give you everything we have.”

“And what do you get in return?”

Marcus stood up. “I get to sleep at night.”

---

The meeting lasted two hours.

Kay transferred files. Moray asked questions. Marcus answered as best he could.

When they left, the sun was setting.

Claire was waiting in the car. “How did it go?”

“She’s going to help.”

“Just like that?”

“Nothing is just like that. But she’s the first.”

Marcus started the engine.

His phone buzzed. The texter: “One down. Nine to go. Next is a journalist. Name is Helen Vance. She’s in New York. She’s been covering the story for months. She’ll trust you.”

Marcus typed back: “How do you know all this?”

“Because I’ve been building this network for years. Longer than you’ve been fighting. Longer than Silas was in power.”

“Then why haven’t you done it yourself?”

“Because I’m not a fighter. I’m a planner. I find the people who can do what I can’t. You’re one of them.”

Marcus put the phone away.

Claire looked at him. “What did they say?”

“They want us to go to New York.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

---

The convention center was quieter at night.

The sleepers were resting. The volunteers were eating dinner in the cafeteria. Lena was reviewing charts.

Marcus found Mira in a corner, staring at her phone.

“Any news about your daughter?”

Mira shook her head. “She’s still safe. My sister moved her again. But I haven’t spoken to her in weeks.”

“You will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that we’re winning. Silas is in jail. Volkov is in custody. The sleepers are being cured. The only thing left is to make sure it never happens again.”

Mira looked at him. “You really believe that?”

“I have to.”

---

Damian was on the roof, watching the street.

Marcus climbed up to join him.

“Can’t sleep?” Damian asked.

“Never can.”

“Me neither.” Damian lit a cigarette. “My mother is doing better. She asked about you today.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her you were the man who saved her life.”

“I didn’t save her. You did.”

“I just drove the car.”

Marcus looked at the city. The lights. The traffic. The people who had no idea what had happened in their streets.

“The texter wants us to go to New York tomorrow. Meet a journalist.”

“Another ally?”

“Another test.”

Damian took a long drag. “When does it end?”

“When the last client is in jail. The last sleeper is cured. The last memory is restored.”

“That could take years.”

“Then it takes years.”

---

Marcus found Claire in the office they had claimed as a bedroom.

She was sitting on the cot, her sling off, her arm stretched out.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Sore. But better.” She looked up at him. “You’re going to New York tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming.”

“Claire—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me to stay behind. I’ve been behind. I’ve been erased. I’ve been a puppet. I’m not doing it anymore.”

Marcus sat beside her. “You almost died. Twice.”

“And you almost died more times than I can count. That doesn’t stop you.”

“I’m trained for this.”

“So am I. You trained me.”

He looked at her. At the fire in her eyes. The same fire that had made him fall in love with her.

“Fine. But you stay close to me.”

“Always.”

---

At 6:00 AM, Marcus received a message from an unexpected source.

Senator Moray: “I’ve started the process. Subpoenas go out tomorrow. The deputy director is stepping down. Pressure works.”

Marcus typed back: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when it’s done.”

He showed the message to Claire.

“One down,” she said.

“Nine to go.”

---

The flight to New York was short.

Marcus, Claire, and Kay took a private plane—arranged by the texter. Damian stayed behind with the sleepers.

The city was gray and cold. Rain streaked the windows of the taxi.

Helen Vance worked out of a newsroom in midtown. The building was old, the elevators slow, the halls filled with the smell of coffee and ink.

She met them in a conference room. Late forties. Dark hair. A face that had seen too much.

“Marcus Cole,” she said. “You’re hard to get a hold of.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve noticed.” She sat down. “Your leaks. The files. They’ve won awards. They’ve also made enemies.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you? Because the people you’re going after don’t just sue. They bury.”

Marcus leaned forward. “Then help me dig them up.”

Helen was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded.

“I’ve been tracking the financiers for a year. The ones who funded the Lazarus Account. I have names. Dates. Transactions.”

“So do I.”

“Then let’s compare notes.”

---

The meeting lasted four hours.

Kay and Helen went through every file. Every transaction. Every email.

By the end, they had a timeline. A map of who paid whom. A list of every person who had profited from the suffering of the sleepers.

“This is enough to bring them down,” Helen said.

“Then do it.”

“I will. But I need protection. When this goes public, they’ll come after me.”

Marcus looked at Kay. “Can we set up a dead man’s switch for her?”

“Already done.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “A dead man’s switch?”

“If you disappear, the files go public,” Kay said. “It’s insurance.”

“I like insurance.”

---

They flew back to Crescent City that night.

Claire slept on Marcus’s shoulder. Kay worked on her laptop. The rain had stopped. The sky was clear.

Marcus’s phone buzzed.

The texter: “Two down. Eight to go. You’re making progress.”

He typed back: “Who are you?”

“Soon. When the time is right. Not yet.”

“When will the time be right?”

“When the last name on the list is crossed off. When the last client is in jail. When the last sleeper is cured.”

“That could be years.”

“Then you’ll wait years. But not alone.”

Marcus put the phone away.

Claire stirred. “Who was that?”

“Our ghost.”

“Did they tell you their name?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you think they ever will?”

Marcus looked out the window at the lights of the city below.

“I think they will. When it matters.”

---

The convention center was quiet when they returned.

The sleepers were asleep. The volunteers were resting. Lena was dozing in a chair.

Marcus walked to the office. Claire followed.

“We’re getting there,” she said.

“We’re getting there.”

“How many more allies do we need?”

“All of them. Every person who can help. Every person who’s willing to fight.”

Claire sat on the cot. “That’s a lot of people.”

“It’s a lot of people. But we have time.”

She looked at him. “Do we?”

Marcus didn’t answer.

He lay down beside her.

His phone buzzed one last time.

The texter: “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, the real work begins. The third name on the list is a judge. She’s in Chicago. She’s been waiting for someone to bring her a case she can win. You’re going to give her that case.”

Marcus typed: “What case?”

“The case against the deputy director. He’s still free. He’s still powerful. He’s still protecting the clients. The judge can issue a warrant. But she needs evidence.”

“We have evidence.”

“Then pack your bags. You leave in the morning.”

Marcus set the phone down.

Claire was already asleep.

He closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, Chicago.

Tonight, he dreamed of gardens.