Chapter 8: One Chance to Walk Away
Paul Strick arrived at the restaurant on Michigan Avenue at noon, forty minutes after Roman's call.
He was a thin man in his mid-fifties, grey at the temples, with the careful posture of someone who had spent decades making himself appear smaller than the rooms he operated in.
He carried a leather portfolio and wore an expression of practiced calm that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Roman was already seated.
No Marco.
No visible security.
Just Roman at a corner table with two glasses of water and a menu he hadn't opened.
Strick sat down.
"You found me quickly," he said.
"I find most things quickly when I'm motivated," Roman said.
"Order something if you'd like.
This will take a few minutes."
Strick did not reach for the menu.
"I want you to understand my position," he began.
"I understand your position completely," Roman said.
"You were retained by Daniel Greer to manage the transfer of materials from Dmitri Hale to Greer's office.
You did so through a series of steps designed to give Greer distance from the acquisition.
You believed the materials would be used to initiate a federal investigation, at the conclusion of which a sitting judge would be compromised or removed, protecting a substantial financial interest in which Greer is a concealed stakeholder." Roman picked up his water glass.
"That's your position."
Strick was very still.
"What I'm interested in," Roman continued, "is whether that position is one you're prepared to defend.
Because here is what I know that you may not have considered.
Hale kept copies.
Those copies are no longer in Hale's possession.
They are in mine.
They document the chain of transfer clearly enough that your role is not a footnote — it is a chapter."
"I was acting as a legal intermediary—"
"You were facilitating the theft of private documents for use in a manufactured federal investigation to protect an undisclosed financial interest.
That is not legal intermediary work, Mr.
Strick.
That is conspiracy." Roman set the glass down.
"I'm not here to threaten you.
I'm here to offer you a single opportunity to correct your involvement before I correct it for you."
Strick's portfolio was on the table between them.
His hand rested on top of it.
"What do you want?" he said.
"The original ledgers.
All three.
Returned to me within twenty-four hours."
"I don't have them.
Greer's office—"
"Then you'll need to retrieve them from Greer's office.
That's your problem, not mine."
"If I go back to Greer and ask for those—"
"He'll know something has changed," Roman said.
"Yes.
Which means you have approximately twenty-four hours before he understands the architecture of his plan has shifted.
I suggest you use that time efficiently."
Strick looked at him.
"And in exchange?"
"Your name stays out of every conversation I have going forward.
You were never involved.
You were never in this restaurant."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Strick was quiet for a moment.
"You could have gone to Greer directly."
"I could have," Roman agreed.
"But you're the cleaner solution.
Greer is ambitious and frightened, which makes him unpredictable.
You're practical, which makes you reliable." He paused.
"I've dealt with both types for twenty years.
I prefer reliable."
Strick looked at the table.
His hand moved off the portfolio.
"Twenty-four hours," he said.
"Twenty-four hours."
Strick stood, picked up the portfolio, and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.
Marco appeared at the table thirty seconds later, sliding into the vacated seat.
"He'll do it," Marco said.
"Probably."
"And if he goes to Greer instead?"
Roman looked at the untouched menu.
"Then Greer will know I'm aware of the entire structure.
Which accelerates his timeline.
Which means he'll move on the ledgers before he's ready, which means he'll make mistakes." Roman set the menu aside.
"Either way, the next move is his.
And men who are frightened and in a hurry make the kind of mistakes that end careers."
Marco nodded slowly.
Then: "The ledgers aren't the only problem."
Roman looked at him.
"Greer already has copies," Marco said.
"Digital scans.
Made before Hale handed over the originals.
Strick returning the physical documents doesn't eliminate the copies."
Roman was quiet.
"I know," he said.
"Then returning the originals doesn't actually solve—"
"It solves the part where Greer believes he still controls the situation," Roman said.
"When the originals disappear from his possession, he'll understand that someone inside his operation moved against him.
He'll spend the next week looking inward." He paused.
"Which is when I go to the judge."
Marco looked at him carefully.
"You're going to warn him."
"I'm going to give him the information he needs to protect his own ruling.
What he does with it is his decision." Roman stood.
"But a federal judge who understands that a prosecutor in his district is running a concealed financial play against his courtroom is a very motivated man."
He put on his jacket.
"Set up the meeting," he said.
"Quietly.
Tonight if possible."
His phone lit up on the table.
A message from a number he didn't recognize.
May you like
Four words: *She's in labor.
Now.*
