Chapter 1 - The Black Leather LedgerThe metallic blade sliced through the worn yellow foam, releasing a stale, musty stench that made my stomach turn. Jerry stopped barking instantly. His ears pinned back against his head, his chest heaving as he stared fixedly at the opening.
My fingers trembled as I pushed the foam aside. Brushing past rusted steel springs and splintered oak frames, my hand brushed against something cold, stiff, and distinctly non-furniture related. I pulled.
It was a heavy, waterproof package wrapped in heavy-duty black electrical tape and sealed in vacuum packaging. Beneath the plastic layer lay a thick, obsidian-black leather notebook, bound with brass clasps, along with a heavy, encrypted titanium USB drive.
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What is this, Jerry?" I whispered.
I popped the brass clasp of the notebook. The yellowed pages inside weren't filled with personal diary entries or handwritten letters. They were crammed with meticulous, coded columns of numbers, wire transfer routing codes, safety deposit box numbers, and names.
And then my eyes hit the top of page three.
My own full name was written at the top, followed by my social security number, my home address, and a single, chilling red stamp: TARGET ACQUIRED â DELIVER VIA SECOND-HAND AUCTION.
My blood ran ice cold. I didn't buy this couch by chance. It had been intentionally routed to that small, obscure second-hand store. Someone knew I was hunting for vintage furniture. Someone wanted this inside my house.
Click.
May you like
The front door handle turned slowly from the outside.
I froze. I hadn't ordered food. I wasn't expecting anyone. Through the brass peephole, three men in dark tactical jackets stood in the dimly lit hallway. The man in the front was holding a master key, quietly slotting it into my deadbolt.
