บททั้งหมดของ Black Network: บทที่ 251 - บทที่ 260

Moss dragged herself up the back stairs to her fourth-floor apartment, leaning hard on the railing.Every step sent a sharp ache up from her bruised shin.She jammed the key into the lock, shoved the door open, and kicked it shut with her heel.The soaking wool coat dropped onto the floor with a wet slap.In the bathroom mirror, she looked like complete shit. Her hair was glued to her forehead, and a nasty purple bruise was already swelling along the side of her neck where that bastard had caught her.She turned the tap on and scrubbed the bloody yellow residue off her knuckles until the raw skin stung.Her phone buzzed twice on the kitchen counter.She limped over and picked it up.Fourth Street docket unsealed, Wallace texted.Moss leaned against the counter, typing back with cold fingers: Canal product just hit the bar on Third. Yellow junk cut with pills.Don't chase it, Wallace replied instantly. You're suspended.Moss deleted the text, turned the phone off, and tossed it into th

Dominic brought his palm down flat on the mahogany table, cutting through the low murmur in the room."Listen up," Dominic said, eyeing Hugo and the four senior enforcers lined up across from him. "We're consolidating everything. Pull every spare guy off the downtown side streets and move them to the docks and the hangar perimeter."Hugo leaned forward. "What about the surrounding neighborhoods?""That's part of the perimeter," Dominic replied, his tone flat and final. "Our cargo and our planes come first, but I don't want innocent people around our fence getting robbed, jumped, or caught in the crossfire. If any crew from outside the district creeps within two blocks, nobody shoots first, but you flag it to me the second they step onto the asphalt. Got it?""Understood, boss," Hugo said.Hugo walked out into the rain and pulled his radio. "Ivan, Yuri, get to the main dock gate right now. Lock the turnstiles and check every vehicle manifest. If a truck doesn't have my direct stamp, tu

Forty-eight hours later, the precinct dispatch board went dead silent.Not a single broken window. No muggings. Not even a drunken brawl in the canal alleys.Moss printed out the morning statistics sheet and walked straight into Mick's corner office. She set the paper down hard right in the middle of his desk."Zero calls since yesterday morning," Moss said, cutting right to the point. "That's bullshit, Mick. You don't go from forty violent break-ins a night to absolute silence without someone pulling the strings. We need a formal warrant and authorization for a full narcotics probe on the canal district today."Mick didn't yell. He didn't even push the paper away. He just looked at the zeroed-out numbers, closed his file folder, and pulled his coat off the stand."You think I'm faking the logs?" Mick asked, dangling a set of unmarked cruiser keys. "Come on. Grab your vest. You and me are taking a ride."They rolled out of the underground garage by ten in the morning, cruising the bor

Ella tossed the signed deed onto the low table."The paperwork cleared through an offshore shell registrar," Ella said. "Four million's already moved. The remaining three-eight is split in two — half releases when the planes clear customs at the border, half when they touch down here. Until then, the seller doesn't see a dime of it."Dominic took a sip of his black coffee and stared at the green confirmation light on the screen."Split the wire routing," Dominic said. "Push the remaining fees through a second freight shell. When the feds pull our domestic bank files on Monday, I want this purchase buried under foreign freight debt.""Already handled," Ella replied. "The ledger isn't touching anything domestic. No trail."The double doors swung open. Hugo walked in, rain still dripping off his shoulders, shaking his coat out over the entryway rug."Runway status?" Dominic asked."Ivan chained the freight gate," Hugo said. "He's got four guys in the maintenance shack with shotguns and t

Moss didn't hesitate. She pulled her hands from her pockets, snapped open the metal clasp, and took out the top stack of papers.She held the pages under the dim fluorescent bulb above the folding table and scanned the lines.For the first few seconds her expression stayed guarded. Then, as she flipped to the second sheet, the muscle in her jaw pulled tight."What the hell is this?" Moss muttered."That's the 48-hour comparison," Lina said, pointing with a gloved finger. "Left column is your precinct's official public board. Six total incidents logged between Tuesday and Thursday morning.""I know what my board says," Moss said, gripping the paper tighter. "I stare at it eight hours a day.""Now look at the right column," Lina said. "That's the actual 911 intake from the switchboard."Moss turned the page. Her thumb pressed hard enough to leave a crease. Her eyes widened as she scanned the timestamps, addresses, and incident codes."Twenty-two," Moss whispered. "Twenty-two separate co