Page 26 of Axle
“Like the guy who built the fucking locks on this thing,” Jax replied. “Senior Data Security Engineer at Helix Core.Specializes in encryption protocols. And according to these logs, he’s been inside The Ledger more than anyone else.”
Deviant jumped in. “He wrote big pieces of the vault tech this thing sits on. He also wrote a lot of the test harness that’s supposed to keep it from…becoming this. I did not find his keys anywhere they shouldn’t be, but I found his fingerprints on the failsafes. And then fourteen days ago”—Jax switched the screen to another log. A line of access pings marched across the screen, each stamped with a time, a geo, and an internal ref—“someone using internal Helix credentials started pulling a string. Not a download. A check. It threw a probe at The Ledger host every two hours, then at six-minute increments, like someone was watching a clock and daring the guard dog to bark.”
Kane quirked a brow. “That isn’t a thief’s pattern.”
“Nope.” Jax drummed his fingers against the desk. “That’s a test pattern. A guy checking whether he can lift something out of the vault without tripping the sirens.”
“Leek?” I asked.
“Best guess.” Jax’s eyes cut to Ashlynn for the first time since he started. He didn’t soften the question. “Name ring a bell?”
Ashlynn’s brows pulled tight. “Leek…” She sat back slowly. “That was the alias used to hire me through the broker. I didn’t think twice about his name. Most of them use produce names, or birds, or colors. I never would have guessed it was a real one.” Her voice scraped at the end, a rasp of memory. “He said the contact would have a red cap. Was supposed to ask for directions to Redline Speedway. Cash on hand. No phones. No questions.”
“Which is why you didn’t carry ID.” It wasn’t an accusation, just putting it back in play so nobody pretended she’d been careless.
She nodded. “My clients don’t want a digital footprint. I don’t give them one either.”
Smart, angel.
Jax nodded. “That tracks. My read? He built the failsafes for storage. Only somebody decided to weaponize it. My gut says he found out what they were using it for and tried to get the information out before it burned him too. My instincts are screaming whistleblower. He wrote the harness. He would know exactly how it could be abused. So he tries to get it out. Something goes sideways. He hires a courier who won’t set off alarms. Only she does—because somebody else is already listening.”
“You were the delivery method,” Deviant added.
She frowned. “So he’s not the one after me.”
“No.” Jax’s tone was blunt. “The ones who owned The Ledger before it went missing are the ones after you.”
Kane scratched his chin. “The way they came at you? Probably trying to keep him from getting it into the wrong hands. Or the right ones, depending on which side you’re on.”
“And they’re not the type to let something like this slide,” I growled, my fury building with every word.
Kane’s voice was calm steel as he asked, “We know who hit her?”
Jax had that answer ready. The window shifted to a grid of scrapes he’d pulled from traffic cams, the speedway gate, two liquor stores, and a church front that still thought security was a “thou shalt not” sign.
“Same white van shows up on four feeds, two cars do lag-and-lead. Plates are a salad. The van got a county fleet tag welded over the real one for an hour on two cameras. That trick is not a hobby move. The driver profile matches a private-sector security outfit out of Jacksonville that moonlights for anyone with a checkbook and no scruples.”
“There’s something else, though,” Deviant grunted. “That bike your woman stole? It’s registered to an enforcer for the Broken Skulls MC.”
“Fuck,” Kane hissed, his hands curling into fists.
The Broken Skulls were an MC in the next territory over. They were every bad thing you’d ever heard about motorcycle clubs. Had no problem crossing any fucking line—the prez would sell out his mother if it meant gaining more power.
“Broken Skulls did this?” Edge asked even though his mouth said he already knew the answer wasn’t that clean.
I shook my head. “Skulls don’t have that kind of polish on their paperwork.”
“The people we’re looking for,” Jax murmured, “they’d outsource. Hire mercenaries to grab the bag and keep their fingerprints off the panic.”
“The Skulls were muscle, along with the professional mercenaries, then?” Edge mused.
“Maybe,” Deviant replied. “Or they have an insider who told them about the handoff, and they tried to intercept the ball.”
Jax pointed at the screen with The Ledger still displayed. “Whoever bankrolled this is still in the dark. I’m sniffing, but if the buyer used a cut-out shell, it’ll take us time.”
“How much?” Kane asked.
Jax shrugged one shoulder. “Helix layers are like nesting safes. You crack one, discover the next has a different lock brand. But The Ledger itself—this is the game-changer. We don’t have to knock on doors with guns and hope one opens. We have the addresses.” He turned the center screen back to us. “The first thing we need to decide is—how loud do we want to be? Because the second I poke this wrong, the people who think they own this will feel it like a wire yanked out of their tooth.”
