“Malcolm found out before anyone contacted him,” Natalie said. “My office was searched. My computer disappeared. The investigator handling the case was reassigned. A week later, Malcolm told me that if I wanted to keep my family safe, I should stop asking questions.”
Agrippa looked at her carefully.
“Did you stop?”
“I stopped asking him.”
Natalie reached into the folder and removed a photograph of the black notebook.
Agrippa felt the room become unnaturally quiet.
It was the same notebook shown in the anonymous message. The silver wolf on its cover had been scratched near one corner, and a strip of dark tape ran along the spine. He remembered buying it at a stationery shop before his final training camp.
“You’ve seen it,” he said.
“I held it in my hands.”
“When?”
“The night before your championship fight. Malcolm had asked me to prepare a final reconciliation of the event’s accounts. He wanted me to verify that the bonuses had been paid and the medical expenses approved. While I was in his office, I saw the notebook inside an open drawer.”
“Why was it in his office?”
“Because someone had been using it to record the actual transactions.”
Agrippa stared at the photograph.
He had used the notebook to record training observations and contract discussions. He had also written down conversations with Malcolm, including promises about bonuses and the names of people who had witnessed those promises.
But he had never used it to document the company’s financial transactions.
“Who wrote the other entries?”
“I don’t know. The handwriting changed halfway through. The first pages were yours. The later pages belonged to someone who had access to the accounting system.”
Natalie removed another sheet.
“This is a photograph of one page. I took it before Malcolm realized I was in his office.”
Agrippa read the entries. Dates. Numbers. Company abbreviations. Initials. Several payments had been circled, and beside one entry someone had written: TRANSFER APPROVED—M.R.
Below it appeared another note.
A.F. MUST NOT SEE ORIGINAL FIGURES.
Agrippa’s hands tightened.
“Who wrote that?”
“I believe it was Daniel Voss.”
The name was unfamiliar, but Natalie noticed his reaction.
“Daniel was Malcolm’s financial consultant. He handled the offshore accounts and advised him on how to structure the transfers. He was clever enough to hide money in plain sight, but he made one mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“He assumed nobody would ever compare the official books with the original contracts.”
Agrippa looked at the page again.
“Where is the notebook now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did someone tell me to come here?”
Natalie’s expression changed.
For the first time since their meeting began, she looked genuinely frightened.
“Because I didn’t arrange this meeting.”
Agrippa stepped away from the table.
“Who did?”
“I received an envelope yesterday. It contained a photograph of you and a note saying you would come at eleven. The note said I should tell you everything I knew.”
“Did you recognize the handwriting?”
“No.”
“Was there anything else in the envelope?”
Natalie hesitated.
Then she reached into her bag and removed a second photograph.
It showed a young man standing outside a gym, his face partly turned away from the camera. He wore a gray sweatshirt and carried a duffel bag.
Agrippa recognized him.
“Daniel Voss,” Natalie said. “He was supposed to have left the country years ago.”
Agrippa studied the photograph.
“Where was this taken?”
“Two days ago.”
A metallic crash sounded outside.
Natalie flinched. Agrippa moved toward the window and saw a delivery van reversing into the alley. Its driver climbed out, opened the rear doors, and began unloading boxes.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Yet Agrippa had learned long ago that danger rarely announced itself in the way people expected.
He turned back to Natalie.
“You need to leave this building.”
“Where would I go?”
“Somewhere Malcolm doesn’t know about.”
“He knows everywhere I’ve been.”
“Then we make sure he doesn’t know where you’re going next.”
Agrippa took photographs of the documents with his phone. Natalie gave him permission to copy the records, but she refused to hand over the originals.
“If these disappear, I lose my only leverage,” she explained.
“Then keep them somewhere safe.”
“I thought I did that years ago.”
A shadow passed across the frosted glass of the door.
Agrippa immediately stepped between Natalie and the entrance.
Someone tried the handle.
Once.
Twice.
Then a voice came from the other side.
“Ms. Brooks? We need to talk.”
Natalie went pale.
Agrippa recognized the voice from an old memory: a man speaking beside Malcolm after a weigh-in, promising that the financial arrangements were perfectly legal.
Daniel Voss had found them.
And he had not come alone.
“Do not open that door,” Agrippa whispered.
Natalie backed away from the entrance. Her face had lost its color, and both hands were shaking.
“Daniel knows this building,” she said. “He used to come here when the accounts were being moved.”