Free Web NovelChapter 147: Chapter 147 - You’ve Done Your Job
He lowered the pen to the paper and began to write.
Iyisha focused on his hand because she could not afford to look anywhere else.
Her mouth had gone dry. She kept her face neutral, forcing her shoulders to remain loose, forcing her breathing to stay even while her pulse thudded hard against her ribs.
The ink flowed across the page without interruption, forming clean letters under firm pressure.
He lifted the pen slightly, studying it instead of the paper now. His thumb ran along the barrel, feeling the seam. He rotated it once between his fingers, testing the weight.
Iyisha felt the air leave her lungs.
He looked at her.
Then he extended the pen back to her.
"You shouldn’t wander."
She took it, murmured a thanks, and walked out without rushing, her heart pounding so violently she could feel it in her teeth. Thank God the spy camera can write.
She returned to the main hall and sat beside Malcolm.
Her fingers were trembling when she lowered herself into the chair.
She rested her hand lightly against his thigh, grounding herself through the solid warmth of him.
She kept her eyes forward and let her gaze move slowly across the room.
No one was staring at her.
No one whispering urgently.
The sermon continued without disruption.
Ishmael stood near the side aisle again, arms folded, listening.
Elizabeth smiled at someone in the front row.
Nothing looked different.
The normalcy eased something inside her chest. No one was suspicious.
She forced her breathing to slow.
When the final prayer ended and chairs began scraping across the floor, they stood with the rest of the congregation. Iyisha made sure not to move too quickly, not to be the first toward the exit, not to appear eager to leave.
They were halfway down the aisle when Elizabeth’s voice called out.
"Marybeth."
All three of them paused.
They exchanged a brief look before turning.
Elizabeth approached with the same soft expression she had worn all evening, hands clasped lightly in front of her.
"If you see Reya," she said gently, "can you tell her to come in as soon as she can?"
Marybeth blinked.
"Yes," she answered. "Of course."
Elizabeth’s smile lingered just a second too long.
"Good."
They turned back toward the exit and stepped into the night.
The walk to their apartment felt longer this time.
Iyisha opened her mouth to speak, but Malcolm’s fingers brushed her wrist.
"Not here," he said quietly.
She nodded immediately.
They did not speak again until they reached the building.
Inside the stairwell, her pulse began climbing again, the memory of the pen still fresh beneath her skin. She tried to organize what she would say, how she would explain the suspicion without sounding reckless.
The door to their apartment opened.
She stepped inside first.
And froze.
Waldo stood near the table.
Darius was beside him.
And five others she did not recognize occupied the rest of the room, positioned casually but not randomly, as though they had already chosen where they wanted to stand.
The door shut behind them with a solid click.
No one in the room looked relaxed when the door shut behind them. The air inside the apartment felt tighter than the church had, heavier in a different way.
Darius stepped forward first and gestured toward the five unfamiliar men positioned throughout the space, each of them standing with quiet awareness.
Their faces were grim.
"These are our brothers," Waldo said. "Whitewater."
Iyisha and Malcolm nodded. These were not inner city officials and not residents caught in rumor. These were men Darius and Waldo trusted enough to bring into their living quarters without explanation, which told her more about the severity of tonight than any raised voice could have.
Darius held out his hand.
"The pen."
She unclipped it and placed it in his palm.
"You got in?" he asked, watching her carefully.
"I reached the hallway," she answered. "There was a meeting behind one of the doors. I couldn’t get the pen in."
Malcolm remained just behind her shoulder, close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back, silent but tracking every movement in the room.
One of the Whitewater men stepped forward with a compact device already prepared, unscrewing the hidden compartment of the pen with steady fingers before extracting the memory chip and sliding it into a tablet waiting on the table.
The screen lit up.
The footage began to play.
The first segment showed the church hall from her perspective earlier that evening, Waldo handing her the pen. They fast-forwarded to the church, rows of congregants shifting in their seats, Ishmael near the aisle. The lens moved naturally with her breathing.
Several of the men leaned closer to the screen.
"That’s a lot of people." Darius said in dark tone.
"I don’t recognize most of these faces," one said quietly.
The video transitioned into the hallway, audio slightly muffled at first before sharpening as the pen angled closer to the gap beneath the door.
"...we need to finalize everything tonight."
The apartment fell silent.
Another voice followed.
"I think someone was watching the main church last night."
"Are you sure?"
A brief pause.
"We cannot wait much longer."
"Contact Red Tape."
The name settled into the room without anyone speaking.
The footage showed her pulling the pen back quickly, the angle shifting as she stood and moved away. The sequence transitioned into the office, the door opening, the gun raised.
When that man’s face filled the frame clearly, one of the Whitewater men swore under his breath.
"Pause it."
The image froze.
"That’s Jared," he said, stepping closer to the tablet.
Waldo narrowed his eyes. "You’re sure?"
"Positive. He’s one of the inner city resource managers. He oversees supply routing and transport authorization."
Darius’ expression changed subtly, the implications forming faster than he voiced them.
"So he’s attending private meetings at the church," he said evenly.
The footage resumed.
They watched Jared examine the pen carefully, rotating it, running his thumb along the barrel, holding it longer than necessary before returning it.
"He suspected something," one of the men observed quietly.
Another nodded. "He didn’t dismiss it."
They watched the bathroom confrontation, the gun raised, her explanation, the way Jared’s posture never fully relaxed even after lowering the weapon.
When the recording ended, the room remained silent for several seconds.
Waldo looked around.
"Anyone recognize the hallway voices?"
The men shook their heads.
"Audio’s clear enough," one replied, "but no definitive match."
Darius exhaled, not heavily, just measured.
"Red Tape."
The men exchanged looks. No one liked it.
One of the five swore under his breath and dragged a hand over his face. "This has been running inside the city without any of us knowing. If Waldo hadn’t come back when he did, this could’ve wiped out Whitewater before we even understood what was happening."
Waldo gave a single nod. "We were lucky."
His gaze flicked briefly to Iyisha, Malcolm and Marybeth.
"You sent someone to watch them?" one of the men asked Darius.
Darius nodded once. "Two. Rotating. We can’t move openly if they’ve got people embedded in the inner city. If they’re tied into resource management, they have leverage."
"And if Jared’s involved," another added, "then they have resources. Maybe even guns or explosives."
Silence followed that.
Darius looked at the five men one by one. "We need to move before they do."
"We don’t even know who all ’they’ are," one argued.
"We know enough," Darius replied. "Let’s capture everyone tied to the church. Doesn’t matter if they went once or hundreds."
"And if they’ve got more people hiding among us?" another pressed.
Darius’ expression hardened. "We got no choice. We’ll kill them all."
One by one, they nodded.
"Thank you," Darius said, turning briefly toward Malcolm, Iyisha, and Marybeth. "You did your part. We’ll take it from here."
Relief did not follow those words.
Only dread.
Iyisha felt the weight of it settle low in her stomach.
They do not want to stand in the middle of the war.
They did not want to be caught in a crossfire between the church and Whitewater.
Marybeth stepped forward suddenly.
"Where’s Reya?"
Waldo looked at her.
"In your room."
Marybeth did not wait for anything else. She rushed down the short hallway and disappeared behind the bedroom door.
The five men began moving out in pairs, already speaking in low tones about routes and timing. Darius and Waldo followed them, the door closing behind the last of them.
Silence filled the apartment.
Just Iyisha.
Malcolm.
The faint sound of Marybeth’s voice from the bedroom.
Malcolm turned toward her slowly.
There was no anger on his face now.
Only something tighter.
"You nearly died," he said.
Iyisha bit her lip.
