In his temporary operations center in Brooklyn, Vancouver Sell watched the news footage of the LIE arrest on a laptop. One of their people had filmed it from a distance before fleeing the scene—federal agents, HTBB operatives on their knees, the van being searched.
He picked up an encrypted phone and called King.
"Four arrested on the LIE. Liu, Reese, Barker, Santos. They were transporting documents from the Brooklyn warehouse—records we hadn't finished destroying."
King's voice was dangerously quiet. "How did Noah know about the transport?"
"Vega. Had to be. He knew about the Brooklyn warehouse, knew we'd be relocating materials from it. He probably told them to watch for any movement from that location."
"What's in those documents?"
"Financial records, transaction logs, communication protocols. Not everything, but enough to expand their investigation significantly. Names of associates, client references, operational patterns."
For a long moment, King was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and absolute. "This ends now. Noah has pushed us into a corner, forced us to react instead of plan. That changes today."
"What are you proposing?"
"We stop running from this investigation and start attacking it. Legal challenges to their warrants, public relations campaigns about overzealous enforcement, political pressure through our connected clients. And we make sure that anyone else thinking about cooperating understands exactly what happened to Vega."
"His family?"
"I said not yet. But Vega himself? He's made his choice. Let him live with the consequences."
Vancouver understood. "That's extremely risky. Going after a federal witness—"
"Is exactly what Noah would expect us to do, which is why we'll be smart about it. Not direct action. But accidents happen. Witnesses in protective custody have been reached before."
"I'll make inquiries." Vancouver paused. "Eliot, we need to be realistic. We've lost Vega, we've lost four more operatives, we've lost critical documents. Noah is dismantling us piece by piece. At what point do we accept that we've lost and try to negotiate?"
"We haven't lost until I say we've lost." King's voice was steel. "Mallman's transaction proceeds in three days. Eight million dollars, processed successfully while under federal investigation. That's the statement we need to make—that HTBB is still operational, still capable, still worth doing business with."
"And if Noah intercepts it?"
"Then we'll know we're truly finished. But until then, we fight."
Vancouver ended the call and sat in the darkness of his operations center, contemplating the chess game they were playing. Noah had made aggressive moves—turning Vega, intercepting the document transport, arresting four operatives. Each move put more pressure on HTBB, forced them to react, reduced their options.
But aggressive play created exposure. Noah was pushing hard, moving fast, taking risks. And risks created opportunities.
Vancouver began planning. If Noah wanted war, he'd get it.
But he might not like how it ended.
In the DEA headquarters, Noah stood in an interview room watching through one-way glass as Marcus Vega provided detailed testimony about HTBB's operations, Benjamin's murder, and the organization's response to the investigation.
"The documents they were transporting," Vega said, pointing to a map, "those are from their primary financial records. If you analyze them properly, you'll be able to trace money flows to at least a dozen major clients, including JK Mallman."
"And the four operatives we arrested?" Noah asked through the intercom.
"Liu and Reese were both involved in Perez's murder. They were in backup vehicles during the chase. Barker handled technical cleanup afterward. Santos is newer, probably didn't know about the murder, but he's worked on financial operations for about eight months."
Noah made notes. Four arrests, extensive documentation recovered, testimony from a cooperating insider. In less than forty-eight hours since Vega had made contact, they'd dealt HTBB a series of devastating blows.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was moving too fast, that they were being pulled forward into something they didn't fully understand.
"Marcus," Noah said, "Vancouver Sell visited you before you contacted us. What exactly did he say?"
Vega's expression tightened. "He gave me options. Run, stay loyal, or pretend to cooperate while feeding you false information. He also made it clear what would happen to my family if I genuinely cooperated."
"Did he make specific threats?"
"Not specific. But the implication was clear. HTBB doesn't forgive betrayal."
Noah considered this. "We have your family in protective custody. They're safe. But you need to understand that King and Vancouver will be looking for ways to get to you, to punish your cooperation. We'll do everything we can to protect you, but—"
"I know." Vega cut him off. "I know what I did. I know the consequences. But I couldn't keep going. I have daughters, Agent Jogensen. When I think about them growing up knowing what their father really did, what kind of person he really was..." He shook his head. "I had to stop. Whatever happens now, at least I can tell them I tried to do the right thing in the end."
Noah understood that motivation. It was the same one that drove cooperators in most cases—not fear of punishment, not hope for reward, but a fundamental need to reclaim some piece of their humanity, to prove to themselves and their loved ones that they weren't completely lost.
"Your cooperation is noted and appreciated," Noah said formally. "Your testimony, combined with the evidence we've recovered, is going to help us bring justice for Benjamin Perez and dismantle a criminal organization. That matters."
After leaving the interview room, Noah found Coe and Reeves waiting in the hallway.
"The documents from the van are being analyzed now," Reeves reported. "Preliminary assessment is that they contain financial records going back eighteen months—transaction logs, client accounts, money movement patterns. It's exactly what we need to build comprehensive money laundering charges."
"What about the four we arrested?"
"All lawyered up, no one's talking yet," Coe said. "But their attorneys are already making noises about deals. Liu and Reese are facing murder charges, so they're the most motivated to cooperate. Give it another day or two, and I bet at least one of them breaks."
Noah nodded. The pressure was working. HTBB was fracturing, operatives were being arrested, witnesses were cooperating. This was how you dismantled a criminal organization—not with one dramatic raid, but with patient, relentless pressure that eventually cracked their unity and turned members against each other.
But he also knew that wounded animals were dangerous. King and Vancouver were facing the destruction of everything they'd built. They wouldn't go down quietly.
"Double security on Vega and his family," Noah ordered. "And get protection details on any other potential witnesses. HTBB is going to retaliate. We need to be ready."
As if on cue, his phone buzzed with an alert from the night security supervisor: Suspicious vehicle observed near Vega's family's original residence in Queens. Possible HTBB surveillance.
Noah felt cold anger settle in his chest. They were sending a message—We know where they were. We could have reached them.
"Get units to that location now," he snapped to Coe. "I want anyone watching that house identified and arrested if possible. And make sure Vega knows his family is secure. I don't want him second-guessing his cooperation."
As Coe hurried off to coordinate the response, Reeves stepped closer. "Noah, this is escalating fast. We've dealt them serious damage, but they're fighting back. If they go after witnesses or their families, if they start using violence to protect themselves..."
"Then we hit them harder," Noah said coldly. "Every threat, every act of intimidation, every attempt to obstruct this investigation just adds charges and prison time. They can fight all they want. All they're doing is digging themselves deeper."
But as he walked back to his office, Noah couldn't shake a growing sense of unease. They were winning—arrests, evidence, cooperating witnesses. By any objective measure, HTBB was collapsing.
So why did it feel like they were walking into a trap?