Chapter 31 – The Devil's Bargain
The static from the encrypted line faded for a moment before the masked voice returned, its tone measured, almost amused.
"I knew you were reasonable, Al-Farooq."
Ibrahim remained silent, fingers tapping lightly on the desk. His mind was already working through the implications. Trusting this mysterious broker wasn't an option—but using them? That was another matter entirely.
"Let's be clear," Ibrahim said finally. "You don't get to dictate terms. You want protection, I want the Court's empire to collapse. What exactly are you offering?"
A low chuckle. "Access. I know where the bodies are buried—figuratively and literally. The Court's wealth is layered through offshore accounts, front companies, and silent partners in industries you wouldn't expect. I can give you names, locations, transaction trails."
Montoya folded her arms, watching him carefully. "Sounds like a setup."
The voice remained unfazed. "If I wanted you dead, Detective, I wouldn't be calling. The Court still thinks I'm loyal—at least for now. That gives me an advantage. One we can use."
Ibrahim's system ran simulations in the background. [Potential authenticity of information: 78%. Risk assessment: High.]
"How do I know you're not feeding me half-truths?"
A brief pause. "Because I want out."
That got his attention.
"You don't leave the Court," Montoya said, narrowing her eyes. "That's a death sentence."
"Exactly," the broker responded. "Which is why I need a shield. If I hand over everything I have, I need insurance that I don't end up like the others."
Ibrahim leaned back. This was dangerous. If this person truly had inside knowledge of the Court's financial network, they weren't just another informant—they were a key player. Someone high enough to be valuable, but desperate enough to turn traitor.
The question was, could they be controlled?
Montoya stepped forward. "If you have all this dirt, why haven't you used it already?"
A dry laugh. "Because until now, there was no one in Gotham bold enough—or stupid enough—to challenge the Court in broad daylight. But Al-Farooq? He's different. He's forcing their hand. Which means they're vulnerable."
Ibrahim's mind raced through possibilities. If this broker was telling the truth, this was an opportunity to hit the Court where it hurt most—their wealth.
"Alright," he said. "Give me something real. A name. An account. Prove you're useful."
Silence. Then, a soft beep.
Ibrahim's system flashed an alert. [Incoming data packet received. Decrypting…]
Montoya moved closer, reading the information as it loaded. Her breath hitched.
"Son of a—"
It was a transaction record. A direct payment funneled through multiple shell companies—one that ultimately led to a Gotham official Ibrahim recognized. A judge.
A judge who had ruled against every case Ibrahim had brought against the Court.
"You've got to be kidding me," Montoya muttered.
The broker's voice returned. "Consider it a gift. There's plenty more where that came from. But first, we need to talk about my exit plan."
Ibrahim exhaled slowly.
He had just made a deal with the devil.
To Be Continued…