Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Burn shrugged. “I wasn’t gonna break his jaw. I was gonna break his ability to breathe.”
Disciple cleared his throat. “How does this get our boy out? Don’t tell me about making noise. Tell me about the legal leverage.”
Loco replied, “Talked to Devyn and a friend who has an in with the feds. We show that Walsh’s rulings were bought, that Hampton corrupted the court. That’s structural error. That’s level shit with huge fallout to all the cases, not just GJ. Devyn files a motion to vacate judgment based on judicial bias and newly discovered evidence, then petitions for habeas with Brady violations from the DA’s office playing lapdog.”
Burn nodded. “Exactly. But we need evidence not intel. These”—he tapped the photos—“are good for pressure. The receipt on a county card is better. The emails, better still. We need chain-of-custody for everything we intend to hand Devyn.”
“Parallel construction,” Loco added. “If we get something sketchy, we find a clean way to get it again.”
“Right,” Burn said. “So this is the plan: two tracks. Track one—dirty. We watch, we listen, we pull what we can to understand the shape of the monster. We pressure, we persuade, and we prevail. After which we take track two—clean. Paper trail requests. Open records. Procurement files. Vendor registrations. We use citizens’ groups and public records to build the connections all around Hampton.”
Dippy raised his hand like a kid. “I can set up dummy taxpayer groups, corporations, the whole shebang. Fake addresses. Stagger the requests so we don’t spook.”
“Do it,” I commanded, feeling like we were making progress.
Shanks leaned in, eyes like knives. “What about the mistress? Darlene. She flips, Walsh crumbles.”
Burn tilted his head. “She’s scared. Husband’s got his own throat on the line with those loans. Her HR file is clean but she’s got a brother with possession charges that disappeared like fog over a mountain. Hampton touches everything he needs to touch to keep people quiet. If we come at her, we come gentle. Or we wait until the feds warm the air and she wants to pick a side.”
Peanut scratched at the corner of a tattoo. “What about city hall safe? Can we get access?”
“Camera on the corridor,” Burn said. “Keypad, not biometric. Night janitor belongs to us. We can get the time and codes. But going in is a bell you can’t un-ring once we make that move. If we do it, we better have a use for what we take.”
I looked at the gavel, at the years worn into the wood by a man who taught me patience when I wanted to swing first. “We don’t go in yet.”
A rumble of disagreement rolled, quick and dull. I lifted my chin. The room went quiet.
“Walsh will fold with the mistress and the receipts. Hampton is the one that keeps everything standing. We yank on the wrong wire and he rebuilds before Devyn can file. We pull this slow, and when we pull, the whole damn house comes down. That means proof, not rumor. That means boxes of contracts, not whispers at the bar.”
Pull slid a yellow legal pad into the center and clicked a pen. “Assignments.”
I nodded. “Shanks—inside protection for GJ stays top priority. I want eyes on him at all hours. If he moves, somebody knows how many times he shits. If he coughs, I want a report.”
Shanks jerked his chin, already there. “Got two lifers who owe me. He’ll eat in peace. He won’t shower alone. He won’t walk alone. He’ll be safe from all sides.”
“Good,” I said. “Burn—you run the dig. But do it like we got a judge watching us, because we do. No cowboy shit without asking me first.”
Burn smirked. “Define cowboy.”
“Anything you’d write me a note about later.”
He nodded once. “Copy.”
“Dippy,” I said, “set up the dummy groups. Teach Chains and Clutch how to ask for what we already know but need to prove. Touch base with Waverly. She knows people. Waverly will phrase the requests so they don’t tip our hand.”
“On it,” Dippy said, fingers already moving like he was typing on a ghost keyboard. He was a bit odd like that but the brother was smart as they came.
“Shanks,” I said. “You and Lead sit on Walsh. Calendars. Habits. Who he drinks with, where he parks, what nights he doesn’t go home. If he trashes a burner, I want the pieces.”
Tower cracked his neck. “He jogs two nights a week after dark around the Reservoir Trail. If he trips, I’ll be there to help him up.” He said it in a way that sounded helpful and felt like a threat.
“Not yet,” Burn said, eyes cutting sideways.
“Not yet,” I echoed. “Every move needs to be calculated.”
Burn slid a card across. “Elena Cruz. Dreadnought Ledger. She hates Hampton like a religion. He cut her newsroom’s budget in half when they ran a story on the missing flood funds. She’ll print if we can give her something she can verify without coming near us.”