Chapter 5 - The Glass House
Dr. Julian Adler lived in a multi-million-dollar modern glass home perched on a hill in Whitestone, overlooking the East River. It was the kind of house bought with blood money—clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows, expensive modern art, and zero soul.
It was 11:30 PM when the front glass door shattered inward.
Adler, a thin man in his fifties wearing a silk bathrobe and holding a glass of scotch, dropped his drink as three heavy-set men in black tactical gear burst into his living room. Before he could scream, Bruno hit him in the chest, knocking him flat onto his Italian marble floor.
The dog didn't bite. He simply pinned the doctor down with his two massive front paws, resting his jaws inches from the man's throat, letting out a low, vibrating growl that vibrated straight through the floorboards.
I stepped through the shattered glass entryway, my black coat dripping with rain.
"Dr. Adler," I said, walking over to his stainless-steel kitchen island and pulling out a leather barstool. "You have a very lovely home."
"Who... who are you?" Adler gasped, his eyes wild with terror as he stared up at the dog above him. "Call the police! I’m the Chief Medical Examiner for the district!"
"I know who you are," I said, pouring myself a glass of water from his tap. "I also know that three days ago, you signed a death certificate for Elena Vasquez. Cause of death: severe traumatic brain injury secondary to vehicular impact."
Adler’s face turned gray. "I... I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Get up," I barked.
Bruno stepped off him. Adler scrambled backward on his hands and knees, pressing himself against his leather sofa.
I threw a folder onto the glass coffee table. Inside were printouts of bank transactions from an offshore account in the Cayman Islands, detailing wire transfers signed by Victor Harlan’s shell corporation over the past two years.
"Your secret accounts were very easy to find once Marco gave us your name," I said calmly. "Fifty thousand dollars per child. You certify them dead, hand the 'corpses' over to Harlan’s transport crew, and they disappear into the dark."
Adler began to weep, pressing his palms against his face. "They threatened my family! Harlan said he would kill my daughter if I didn't cooperate!"
"Everyone has an excuse," I said, leaning forward. "Where is the shipping manifesto for tonight, doctor?"
Adler looked up, his eyes widening. "What?"
"Harlan doesn't just move one kid at a time," I said, reading the patterns of the mob better than the police ever could. "Elena was an accident. But Marco said the truck at Pier 42 was full. Where is the main shipment heading tonight?"
Adler swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I... I don't have that information. I just write the certificates!"
Bruno stepped forward, letting out a sharp, thunderous bark that echoed off the glass walls. Adler shrieked, covering his head.
"I swear! I swear I don't know the final destination!" Adler screamed. "All I know is the staging ground! Container Yard B at the Port of Newark! The ship leaves at 3:00 AM!"
I looked down at my watch. 11:45 PM.
We had three hours.
I stood up and looked at Tony. "Call the Chief of Police. Tell him we have a very generous donor who wants to turn himself in for medical malpractice and human trafficking."
"You're... you're not going to kill me?" Adler gasped, blinking through his tears.
I looked down at the pathetic man cowering on his expensive floor.
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"Death is too easy for men like you," I said coldly. "In prison, the other inmates will find out what you did to children. You’ll wish I had shot you here tonight."
I turned on my heel and walked out into the rain, Bruno following close at my heel.
