“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.”
“Then he knows there’s a second exit.”
“There isn’t one.”
Agrippa looked toward the narrow window. It was old, but the lower frame appeared loose. He crossed the room and tested it. The window opened a few inches before sticking against the warped wood.
“Natalie, can you fit through there?”
She stared at the opening.
“I’m not climbing out of a window.”
“Then we stay here and let him decide what happens next.”
The handle moved again.
A man spoke through the door.
“Agrippa, I know you’re in there.”
The voice was calm, almost friendly.
“You don’t have to make this difficult.”
Agrippa recognized the tactic. Men who wanted to intimidate you often spoke softly because they wanted you to imagine what they might do if they stopped being polite.
“Daniel Voss,” Agrippa called. “It’s been a long time.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Daniel laughed.
“Longer for some of us than others.”
Agrippa looked at Natalie. She shook her head urgently, signaling that they should leave.