Complaints.
Evidence forms.
Nothing unusual.
Then he noticed a false bottom.
He lifted it.
Inside was a second box.
Jasmine whispered:
"What is that?"
Marcus opened it.
Files.
Dozens of them.
Each marked with a red symbol.
He picked one up.
The first page contained a name.
Michael Torres.
Marcus opened another.
Daniel Price.
Another.
A woman named Angela Morris.
Another.
A teenager named Kevin Reed.
Marcus stopped.
His own surname.
He opened the file.
Kevin Reed was seventeen when he was arrested.
No relation.
The teenager had been accused of assaulting a police officer.
The official report said he attacked first.
But the file contained a handwritten statement from a witness.
It said the officer attacked Kevin.
The witness had later disappeared from the record.
Marcus turned another page.
A photograph fell out.
It showed a group of Riverside officers standing beside a table.
On the table were packages of cash.
And weapons.
Caldwell was there.
Hale was there.
Two detectives.
A city contractor.
And one man Marcus recognized immediately.
Councilman Richard Voss.
Marcus stared at the photograph.
Voss had publicly supported Marcus's appointment.
He had praised him during the city council hearing.
He had called him "the right man for Riverside."
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
Jasmine whispered:
"Chief..."
He held up another document.
It was a ledger.
Payments.
Dates.
Names.
Amounts.
The department had been selling information.
Confidential addresses.
Evidence details.
Witness names.
Drug-operation schedules.
Sometimes the payments came from criminals.
Sometimes from private security companies.
Sometimes from political campaigns.
Jasmine covered her mouth.
"This is huge."
Marcus nodded.
"No."
He looked at the files.
"It's bigger than the department."
A noise echoed from the far end of the warehouse.
Both froze.
Footsteps.
Jasmine reached for her weapon.
Marcus whispered:
"Wait."
Another sound.
Metal against metal.
Then silence.
Marcus moved carefully toward the sound.
He found a door.
It was locked.
He tried the handle.
Nothing.
Jasmine whispered:
"Should we call backup?"
Marcus looked at her.
"Who do you trust?"
She didn't answer.
That was the answer.
Marcus stepped back.
Then the door opened.
A man stumbled out.
He was bleeding.
Marcus caught him before he fell.
"Who are you?"
The man looked up.
Marcus recognized him.
Michael Torres.
The former officer.
"Chief..."
"What happened?"
"They know."
"Who?"
"Everyone."
Torres coughed.
"They knew you were coming."
Marcus helped him sit.
"Who attacked you?"
Torres looked toward the darkness.
"Caldwell."
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"What happened?"
"I kept copies."
"Copies of what?"
"Everything."
Torres reached inside his jacket.
He pulled out a small notebook.
"I couldn't trust computers."
Marcus took it.
Torres whispered:
"They've been doing it for years."
"Who?"
"Everyone."
Then headlights appeared outside.
Several vehicles.
Jasmine looked toward the windows.
"Chief."
Marcus stood.
"How many?"
"Four."
Torres grabbed Marcus's sleeve.
"Don't let them take me."
Marcus looked at him.
"They won't."
The warehouse doors suddenly slammed open.
Men entered.
Not patrol officers.
Private security.
Five of them.
One raised a weapon.
"Drop the weapon!"
Jasmine drew hers.
Marcus stepped between her and Torres.
"Lower it."
The man laughed.
"You should have stayed in your office, Chief."
Marcus looked at him.
"You made one mistake."
"What?"
"You came here expecting me to be alone."
Marcus touched the radio on his shoulder.
He pressed the transmit button.
"Unit command, emergency response."
The man froze.
There was no response.
Marcus smiled.
The man laughed again.
"Your radio isn't connected to anyone."
Marcus looked at him.
"Not yet."
He pressed another button.
The radio changed frequency.
A voice came through.
"Federal response unit standing by."
Every man in the warehouse froze.
Marcus said:
"Record everything."
Lights suddenly flooded the warehouse.
Federal agents entered from three sides.
Weapons raised.
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
The men surrendered almost instantly.
Jasmine stared at Marcus.
"You planned this?"
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
He looked at Torres.
"I hoped for it."
Two hours later, the warehouse was surrounded.
Federal investigators collected boxes.
Photographs.
Ledgers.
Weapons.
Hard drives.
Files.
Everything.
Marcus stood outside under the cold night sky.
Director Collins approached.
"You found the archive."
Marcus nodded.
Collins held up the notebook.
"Do you know what this contains?"
"No."
Collins looked at him.
"Names of officers, politicians, contractors, judges."
Marcus stared at the warehouse.
"How many?"
"Enough to bring down half the city."
Marcus exhaled.
"Then we do it properly."
Collins smiled.
"That's why they sent you."
Marcus looked at him.
"Who?"
Collins hesitated.
"Washington."
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
"Washington knew?"
"They knew Riverside had problems."
"How long?"
"Three years."
Marcus shook his head.
"So I wasn't sent here to reform a department."
Collins nodded.
"You were sent here because nobody else could survive the first thirty days."
Marcus thought about the handcuffs.
The desk.
Caldwell's hand against his neck.
Then he looked at the federal agents carrying evidence from the warehouse.
"I survived."
Collins smiled.
"You did more than that."
THE LAST STAND
The arrests began at dawn.
Captain Victor Hale was taken from his home.
Detective Aaron Blake was arrested at a gas station.
Evidence Officer Paul Grant surrendered through an attorney.
Councilman Richard Voss attempted to leave the state.
He was stopped at the airport.
But Sergeant Garrett Caldwell disappeared.
For twelve hours, nobody knew where he was.
Then Marcus received a phone call.
Caldwell.
Marcus answered.
"Chief."
"Sergeant."
"You've made a mistake."
Marcus sat in his office.
"No."
"You think you won?"
"I don't think anything."
"You don't know what you're dealing with."