Chapter 145

Pain came first. A deep, burning ache in his chest that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. Then sounds filtered in, the steady beep of machines, the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum, hushed voices just beyond his reach.

Herod Preston opened his eyes.

The hospital room swam into focus slowly. White ceiling. Blue curtains. Clear tubes running into his arms. And a man in a dark suit sitting beside his bed, watching him with tired eyes.

“Mr. Preston,” the man said, leaning forward. “I’m Special Agent Morgan with the FBI. Can you hear me?”

Herod tried to speak, but his throat felt like sandpaper. A nurse appeared, holding a small cup of water with a straw. He sipped, the cool liquid both painful and soothing as it went down.

“Yes,” he managed finally, his voice a raspy whisper. “I hear you.”

Agent Morgan nodded to someone Herod couldn’t see. A woman stepped into view, also in a dark suit. “Agent Chen,” she introduced herself. “You’ve been unc