The hardest thing for a rigid man… is losing control of himself.
Ian's Facility – Interrogation Room
Marcus Heller sat restrained.
Back straight.
Gaze steady.
He didn't look defeated.
He looked prepared.
Daniel Cross stood in front of him.
Files.
Recordings.
Photographs.
"You have a chance," Cross said.
Silence.
"Talk… and we'll try to keep this legal."
A faint, mocking smile crossed Heller's face.
"Legal?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"You don't understand who you're dealing with."
The interrogation continued for an hour.
Direct questions.
Layered traps.
Legal pressure.
Heller responded with silence...or carefully shaped answers that implicated no one.
Eventually, Cross exited.
His expression tight.
"He knows the game."
Ian Vale stood outside.
"Let me."
Cross hesitated.
"This isn't a lab."
"And he's not an ordinary man," Ian replied.
He opened the door.
Entered.
Closed it behind him.
Inside the Room
Heller lifted his gaze.
"Finally."
He smirked.
"Did you come to ask about my feelings?"
Ian didn't respond.
Instead, he removed the wig from his pocket.
Placed it slowly on his head.
Cross watched through the glass...confused.
Heller laughed.
"Really?"
Ian stepped closer.
Then another step.
Stopped behind Heller.
Placed a hand on his head.
Pulled three metallic strands from the wig.
Each tipped with a microscopic barb.
Blue.
Red.
Yellow.
He held them before Heller's eyes.
"Which color do you prefer?"
For a moment
The sarcasm vanished.
Heller said nothing.
Ian smiled faintly.
"All right…"
He selected two.
Examined them briefly.
Then
Inserted them into Heller's hand with a motion almost invisible.
A sharp inhale escaped Heller.
He tried to mask the pain.
Ian spoke calmly:
"Now… ask him whatever you want."
And walked out.
Less Than an Hour Later
The door opened.
Cross stepped out.
He looked different.
Not triumphant.
But loaded with information.
He sat with Ian and Derya Aksoy.
Slowly, he said:
"I have a lot now."
He looked at them.
"Direct transfer names."
"Meeting schedules."
"Storage locations."
He paused.
"And more."
His eyes met Ian's.
"Lindsay isn't just a shield."
"He coordinates between political offices and the military network."
Derya asked:
"Did he talk?"
Cross nodded.
"Clearly… and probably more honestly than he intended."
Ian replied softly:
"Fear makes the tongue outrun the mind."
Cross leaned forward.
"But we can't just release this."
"It'll be buried."
Ian nodded.
"Then we catch them in motion."
The three gathered around the table.
"We have a scheduled meeting in New York," Cross said.
"What if we make sure it happens under light?"
Ian's smile was slow.
"Or… under recording."
New York – The Apex Meeting
The atmosphere was tense.
Richard Holmes sat at the head.
Beside him...Edward Lindsay.
The three military-linked figures nearby.
Reports spread across the table.
Screens dark.
Holmes spoke sharply:
"Marcus is missing."
One of the military men added:
"And additional leaks have surfaced."
Lindsay's expression remained cold.
"We are at a dangerous turn."
"Then we act."
Orders were issued quickly:
Delete sensitive archives.
• Move financial assets to intermediary accounts.
• Remove vulnerable intermediaries.
Then someone asked:
"What about the officer?"
Lindsay answered without hesitation:
"He's terminated."
"And the young man?"
A brief pause.
"We want his real name."
"And whoever stands behind him."
"Then he's terminated."
Silence settled.
Finally, Lindsay said coldly:
"No mistakes this time."
Ian's Facility
Cross looked at the live financial dashboard.
"They've activated the order."
Derya asked:
"How do you know?"
Cross pointed at the screen.
"One of the transfers Marcus mentioned… just moved."
Ian smiled.
"Good."
"Why is that good?"
"Because they're moving nervously."
He paused.
"And nervous people make mistakes."
His gaze shifted to Lindsay's image.
"A man who lives in the light…"
He let the sentence linger.
"…cannot survive being exposed in the dark."
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