Chapter 4: The Cover-Up

The alliance with Val gave me a renewed sense of purpose, but Marcus’s reach was far more extensive than I had initially imagined. My first move, following our meeting, was to formally request all security footage from the K9 facility for the day Kodiak was injured. I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try.

The reply came swiftly, a terse email from Thorne Security’s legal department. It cited “proprietary security protocols” and “ongoing internal investigations” as reasons for denying my request. It also, quite pointedly, informed me that my access credentials to the company’s internal systems had been revoked due to “unauthorized attempts to access sensitive data.”

They were watching me. Every move.

“They’re not even bothering with subtlety anymore,” I told Val over a secure line, pacing my small apartment.

“That’s usually a sign they’re nervous,” Val countered, her voice calm. “Means you’re hitting close to something important.”

But it also meant I was hitting a brick wall. Without the footage, it was my word against Marcus’s.

Meanwhile, Captain David Riley was under immense pressure. Marcus had called him into his opulent office, the expansive city view a stark contrast to Riley’s internal turmoil.

“Captain Riley,” Marcus began, his voice smooth as silk, yet with an underlying steel that brooked no argument. “I understand there was a minor… protocol breach during the K9 stress test in Zone Four.”

Riley’s stomach clenched. “Sir, yes, the dog—”

“Kodiak,” Marcus interrupted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “A regrettable accident. Highly unfortunate. But accidents happen, don’t they, Captain?”

Riley nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, sir.”

“However,” Marcus continued, leaning back in his chair, a predatory smile playing on his lips, “certain elements, shall we say, might misinterpret this. Might see it as more than just an unfortunate incident. We wouldn’t want that, would we, Captain? Not with the new federal contract on the line.”

He let the implication hang in the air. Riley’s career, his future, all tied to Marcus’s good graces.

“No, sir,” Riley said, his voice barely a squeak.

“Excellent,” Marcus purred. “So, you understand the need for discretion. I need you to go into the system. The K9 facility access logs for that specific day, and any camera feeds that might show anything other than a standard training exercise. Just ensure everything reflects the official report: a routine, if unfortunate, training incident.”

Riley knew what that meant. It meant deleting. It meant altering. His conscience screamed, but Marcus’s power, his reputation, his sheer presence, silenced it. Riley, ambitious and eager to please, rationalized it as protecting the company, covering for his boss’s ‘minor’ oversight. He thought he was just tidying up a messy accident, ensuring no one could spin it into a public relations nightmare. He didn’t know he was creating a false alibi for a deliberate act of cruelty.

Later that week, I made a desperate, final attempt to bypass their system. Using a backdoor entry I had coded years ago, before Marcus locked me out, I tried to pull up any residual data. My screen immediately flagged a deep system scrub, a recent one. And then, I saw it: a specific timestamp coinciding with Kodiak’s injury, flagged as a “manual log edit” performed by an administrator account. The administrator? Captain David Riley.

My blood ran cold. Riley hadn’t just ‘heard chatter.’ He was directly involved.

“He covered it up for Marcus,” I told Val, my voice tight with anger and despair. “Riley. The junior handler who gave me that vague tip. He went in and erased the logs, corrupted the footage.”

Val let out a low whistle. “That explains why Marcus’s legal team was so smug. They knew there was nothing for you to find.”

“He said Marcus wanted to make an example,” I recalled, the words echoing Riley’s terrified whisper. “And that Kodiak had found something. Riley must have seen something too, or at least been told enough to follow orders blindly.”

The realization hit me hard. Marcus wasn’t just working against me; he was co-opting and manipulating those around him, turning them into unwitting accomplices. Riley, in his eagerness to advance, had become Marcus’s tool. He didn’t know the full extent of the deception, only what Marcus wanted him to believe: that he was covering for a “protocol breach.”

“This complicates things,” Val admitted. “An inside man, actively tampering with evidence. It makes direct proof incredibly difficult. And it shields Marcus further.”

“So, what now?” I asked, feeling a cold dread settle in my stomach. “We have no footage. No verifiable logs. Just Riley’s terrified whisper and my gut.”

“We pivot,” Val said, her voice resolute. “Riley might have deleted the digital evidence, but he couldn’t delete the truth of what Kodiak found. And he couldn’t delete Kodiak himself.”

She paused.

“And now, my ‘Arthur Finch’ lead becomes even more critical,” Val continued. “If Kodiak found something, it’s likely related to Marcus’s illicit dealings. What if it was a physical ledger? A flash drive? Something tangible that he was hiding?”

I thought back to Riley’s comment: “finding something where he shouldn’t have.” It implied an object, a physical item, not just information.

“But how do we prove Riley tampered with it?” I asked, the frustration mounting. “He’ll deny it. Marcus will back him up.”

“We might not need to prove his specific act yet,” Val replied. “We need to focus on what he was trying to hide. The content. If Kodiak found something, it’s still out there, or it was at some point. And Marcus is clearly desperate to keep it buried.”

This meant a shift in strategy. Instead of focusing on the cover-up of the accident, we had to focus on the motive behind it. The “something” Kodiak found. The shell corporations. “Arthur Finch.”

“I need to get Kodiak out of there,” I stated, a fierce determination replacing my despair. “He’s Marcus’s last loose end. If he found something, Marcus will come for him again.”

The thought of Kodiak being targeted again, deliberately, sent a wave of icy fury through me. Marcus had almost killed him once. He wouldn’t hesitate a second time. My focus narrowed. Kodiak’s survival was paramount, not just for his own sake, but because he was the last, silent witness. He held the key to Marcus’s secrets, even if he couldn’t articulate them.

I knew then that Marcus would not rest until Kodiak was completely silenced. My next move had to be swift, decisive, and unexpected.