Chapter 22 - The Dock Master’s Confession
"Mr... Mr. Hale," Henderson stammered, wiping his sweaty palms against his grease-stained trousers. "I swear to God, I didn't know the pallet was flagged. I just sign what the automated routing system drops on my desk at dawn!"
I stepped into the cramped office, the air thick with the smell of cheap tobacco and damp cardboard. I didn't say a word. I simply walked over to the desk, picked up the manifest, and laid it flat before resting my palms on the wood, leaning in close until our eyes met.
"Henderson," I said softly, the quiet danger in my tone freezing him in place. "You've worked for the Hale family for twenty years. You watched me take over these docks when I was twenty-four. You know what happens to men who don't read the fine print on my manifests."
"Please, Boss! It wasn't me!" Henderson choked out, tears pooling in the corners of his aged eyes. "It was sent through a secondary relay server routed out of the financial district. A shell company called Apex Logistics. They used an override key linked to Raymond Vance’s old terminal credentials before his clearance was revoked!"
Marcus stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "Raymond’s terminal was wiped the morning we took him down on the terrace. Every cryptographic key was burned."
"Not every key," Henderson whimpered, reaching into his pocket with a trembling hand and pulling out a small, encrypted flash drive. "Raymond gave this to my nephew six months ago. He said if anything ever happened to him or Vincent, my nephew was supposed to plug this into the main terminal at midnight to release a secondary inventory log."
I took the flash drive from the old man's fingers, turning the cold metal over in my palm. The network was deeper than I thought. Raymond Vance hadn't just been a chief of security; he had been the architect of an entire shadow empire operating right beneath my nose.
"Where is your nephew right now, Henderson?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
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"He... he took the night shift at Warehouse 9," Henderson whispered, sobbing openly now. "He doesn't know what's on it, Mr. Hale! He’s just a kid trying to pay off his gambling debts!"
"Marcus," I said, handing the flash drive to my security chief without breaking eye contact with the dock master. "Take a team to Warehouse 9. Bring the kid in alive. I want to know who else has a key."
