The cold steel of the handcuffs clinked as they snapped around Thomas Banning's wrists. Hayes shoved him into the back of the unmarked car, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Wallace, pacing nearby, looked around the desolate alley where they had parked, scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble. Despite the successful capture, both of them knew they weren't safe.
Banning sat slumped in the backseat, his face a mixture of fear and resignation. His earlier bravado had faded into silence, broken only by the occasional muttered curse. He didn't look at Hayes or Wallace as they climbed into the front of the car, his gaze fixed on the dirty floor beneath his feet.
"We need to move quickly," Wallace said, starting the engine. "Reed's people will know he's missing soon enough, and once they do, we'll have the entire city hunting us down."
Hayes nodded, checking the rearview mirror for any signs of pursuit. The neon lights from the club flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow across the empty street. They didn't trust this quiet for long.
"Banning," Hayes said, turning in their seat to face the man. "You've got one shot to make this right. Talk now, and maybe we can work something out. But if you wait until Reed's people find you, you're as good as dead."
Banning didn't respond at first, his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, it seemed like he might resist, like the fear of Jonathan Reed was stronger than the immediate threat of Hayes and Wallace. But then, slowly, he looked up, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a kind of desperate hopelessness.
"I'll talk," he muttered. "I'll tell you everything. Just... just get me out of here. Somewhere safe. You don't know what Reed's capable of."
"We know exactly what he's capable of," Wallace said, his tone grim. "That's why you're here, and that's why you're going to start talking."
Hayes pulled out a small recorder, clicking it on and holding it between the front seats. "Start from the beginning. How did you get involved with Reed, and what exactly do you know about his operation?"
Banning licked his dry lips, his eyes darting between them nervously. He hesitated for a second, as if weighing his options, before he finally began.
"It started a few years ago," he said, his voice low. "I was just doing some small-time work for a few of Reed's people. At first, it was nothing—moving money around, handling a few offshore accounts. But then things started getting... bigger. More dangerous. Reed's people started asking for more, and before I knew it, I was deep in."
Hayes leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean by bigger? What kind of deals are we talking about?"
"Drugs. Weapons. Human trafficking," Banning said, his voice trembling. "Reed's not just some corporate shark. He's running an entire underground network. And he's got people everywhere—cops, politicians, even judges. You can't touch him. No one can."
Hayes exchanged a glance with Wallace. They'd known Reed was dangerous, but hearing the full extent of his empire sent a chill through the car. This wasn't just about taking down a powerful businessman anymore—this was a war against a criminal empire.
"We need names," Wallace pressed. "Who's working with him? How does he keep everything hidden?"
Banning shook his head, panic flashing in his eyes. "I don't know all the names. I swear. Reed keeps things compartmentalized. The only people who know the full picture are his inner circle, and even they don't know everything. He trusts no one."
"But you know some of them," Hayes insisted. "Give us what you have."
Banning hesitated again, his face pale and drawn. "There's a man—Reed's right-hand. His name's Marcus Lowe. He handles the more... sensitive operations. If anyone knows the details, it's him. But good luck getting to him. He's a ghost. No one's seen him in public in years."
Hayes and Wallace exchanged another glance. Marcus Lowe was a name they had heard before, whispered in connection to some of the city's darkest dealings. But no one had ever been able to pin anything concrete on him. If Banning was telling the truth, then Lowe was the key to taking Reed down.
"What about the money?" Hayes asked, pressing further. "You were involved in the financial side of things. How does Reed hide it all?"
Banning wiped a hand across his face, beads of sweat forming on his brow despite the cool air. "Shell companies. Fake charities. He's got dozens of them set up all over the world. Money moves in and out constantly—millions of dollars. No one questions it because it all looks legitimate on paper."
"And offshore accounts?" Wallace asked.
"Hundreds," Banning replied. "In the Cayman Islands, Switzerland, the Bahamas—anywhere that's willing to look the other way. Reed's got people in every one of those places, making sure nothing ever gets traced back to him. I handled some of the smaller ones, but the big accounts? That's all Lowe's territory."
Hayes sat back, processing the information. This was more than they had expected, and yet it still wasn't enough. They needed something concrete—something that would tie Reed directly to these crimes. Otherwise, all they had was the word of a man with his back against the wall.
"You're going to need to do better than this, Banning," Hayes said after a long pause. "We can't take Reed down with just a list of names and some shell companies. We need evidence—documents, recordings, something that can hold up in court."
Banning's face twisted in frustration. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped, his voice rising. "Do you think I want to be here, spilling my guts to you? Reed's going to kill me the second he finds out I've talked. I'm dead no matter what I do."
Hayes leaned in, their voice cold and unwavering. "You're right. Reed will come after you. But if you give us what we need, we can take him down before he gets the chance. This is your only way out, Banning. Help us, and maybe you'll get to walk away from this alive."
The car fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them. Banning slumped back in his seat, defeated. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice barely audible.
"There's a safe house," he muttered. "Out in the countryside. Reed uses it to meet with Lowe and a few other key players. They keep records there—files, contracts, things that could tie them to everything. It's heavily guarded, but if you can get inside..."
He trailed off, glancing nervously out the window, as if expecting Reed's men to materialize at any moment.
Hayes exchanged a look with Wallace. This was it—the lead they needed.
"Where's the safe house?" Wallace asked, his voice tense.
Banning swallowed hard, his eyes flicking between them, his fear palpable.
"It's in a small town near the coast," he whispered. "I'll give you the exact address, but I'm not going with you. If I step foot near that place, I'm dead."
"You'll give us the address," Hayes said, their voice steely, "and you'll give us every detail you have on how to get inside. And if you're lying, we'll make sure Reed finds out exactly where you've been."
Banning nodded weakly, defeated. "I'll talk," he muttered. "I'll give you everything. Just... get me out of the city. Away from him."
As the car sped through the darkened streets, Hayes and Wallace knew the noose was tightening around Jonathan Reed. But they also knew the clock was ticking. Reed wouldn't sit idly by for long, and when he struck, it would be with deadly force.
They had to move fast.