Chapter 4 The Truth's Price

"Even if the path is dangerous, the search of truth will set you free." Ida b. Wells

Malik's mouth closed and his thoughts flew. He came onto the barrel-chested security guys, their attitudes a combination of obligation and contempt. The chaos inside the Metropolitan Club had calmed down, but Malik's arrest was just about to happen. His thoughts ran as he was being shackled and shown out. Their research has never carried such high risks.

The cops had been all too quick to hold him, notwithstanding his claims of innocence and demand for charges. Malik's wrists tied in cold steel cuffs, he sat in the rear of a police car. The cops in the front seat looked at each other as the flashing red and blue lights created streaks across his chiselled face.

The driver started with a smile and said, "Mr. Thompson, you don't look like the typical riff-raff we pick up on a Friday night." A millionaire is doing in the midst of a fight?

Malik's jaw locked. " just doing out my duties. You ought to give it a go someday.

The second cop laughed as well. "Very careful, Thompson." We hear you have been probing around in areas where you shouldn't. Possibly want to check your behind.

Malik gazed out the window as his thoughts flew. Ahead, the police station loomed, a severe, uninviting building offering only problems. Malik was dragged out of the vehicle and guided inside as they drew up. The station was a symphony of noise: keys clattering, fluorescent lights buzzing, and tired officials whispering.

The cops, who rapidly handled him with half-smirks and knowing looks, had not missed his billionaire status. They made sarcastic remarks about his riches and position. Even when they drove Malik into a darkly lit detention cell, he remained calm. The grandeur of Manhattan's elite was quite different from the poorly lighted police station. Sitting in the little, dirty cage, Clad in his now dishevelled charcoal grey suit. The chilly metal seat and the scuffed floor were illuminated by the pale glow the strong fluorescent light created over the concrete walls. With its concrete walls coated in graffiti and dirt, the cell's only window was a high, barred slot allowing in the purest sliver of light. The air smelt antiseptic mixed with the subtle aroma of perspiration and hopelessness. The air was tense and one flickering light bulb created lengthy shadows.

Malik saw the other people living in the cell as he reclined on the rough bench. One guy, huddled in a corner, gazed at him warily mixed with fascination.

The guy said, his voice harsh, "You're Thompson, right?."

Malik gave a nodding. Who's asking?

The guy moved in front of her, his eyes flickering frantically. " I have something for you. Intelligence. But you will pay for it.

Malik leaned forward with interest. " What do you know?"

The guy turned to look at the guard outside then said softly. " greystone" He has been buying off local authorities. Deals on real estate, zoning permits, the works. But concealed in the financial records of a shell business known as Sterling Holdings is a paper trail.

Malik's head ran. "Why tell me??"

The guy shrugs. I have my motives. Just remember me when you bring him down.

The guard hammered on the bars before Malik could answer. "Thompson! You have guests here.

Malik was sent to a tiny, sterilised room with a glass wall and phone. He grabbed the phone, and on the other side Riley Montgomery, his old friend and fellow writer, stood.

Riley, you tech guru, Malik grinned and remarked. "What drives you here?"

Riley grinned and had unkempt hair and a vintage graphic shirt. "Can't let Malik have all the fun. Besides, I reasoned you would need some assistance.

Malik chuckled. "You came at correct. Riley, I am in great depth. You should look at a firm named Sterling Holdings. Greystone is related to it.

Riley nodded, eager eyes shining in her direction. " Think about it done. But let us first get you out of here.

The cops who had handled him still seemed fascinated. One of them, a skinny cop with a cheeky twinkle in his eye, spoke to Malik as he passed.

"Hey, Mr. Thompson, next time try to minimise the millionaire drama. The cop grinned and replied, "We don't get many of your kind around here."

The police laughed. Mr. Thompson, keep your back under observation. And maybe stay away from any more well-publicized instances if you want to participate in any more. We would not want you aggravating extra problems. Malik answered with a sarcastic grin.

Malik was soon free, the cool night air a pleasant comfort; the paperwork was handled fast. Riley gave him his phone as they strolled towards his vehicle.

Riley pointed out, "You're lucky I was at the station." And Greystone is fortunate; she does not have you on a kill list.

Malik laughed, despite the comedy eluded his view. "not yet, at least."

"You have a talent for spotting problems, don't you?"

Malik laughingly. Come with the territory.

Malik's brain was already whirling with the fresh material as they left.

" You realise this isn't over, right?" As Rieley left the station, he remarked. Greystone is not going to back down.

Malik said, "Neither am I," with a focused look.

Aisha Rodriguez sat in her little New York apartment, a far cry from the luxury Malik usually lived in. With mismatched furnishings and a sprinkling of personal items giving the loft individuality, it was charming yet small. Just concluding a late-night work session at her messy desk, Aisha was wearing a basic yet sophisticated outfit-a blue shirt and trousers.

Evelyn 'Evie' Chang, her flatmate, was lying on the sofa with her vivid red lipstick as usual.

"Hey Aisha, I heard about the disturbance at the club that was trending online. Are you good?

Aisha sighed tiredly and smiled faintly. "I'm great." Just found myself trapped in the anarchy. Malik Thomsson was arrested instead, however. Surely amazing!

Emma asked an eyebrow raised. " Sounds like a film storyline. Next? A dramatic flee-from?

"You know," Evie continued without turning from her gossip column notes, "you wouldn't have to worry about rent if you married that billionaire." And he is easy on the eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Aisha filled a cup with coffee. "I appreciate you reminding me, Evie. But Malik and I approach things purely business.

Evie squinted. "Sure, and I am the English queen. Can I fire my shot if you don't want him?

Her phone rung as if on schedule. It was her mother.

Once more buzz emanated from Aisha's phone. Saved by the bell.

sighed and responded. "Hi, Mom.".

"Aisha, why not you come home? We sorely miss you.

"Mija, you're working too hard," her worried mother's voice permeated the room.

"Mija, are you okay?" her anxious mother said over the queue.

"I'm good, Mama." Just a bit busy working, Aisha said.

Her father urged her to return home. "This metropolis poses threats. Here you may find a decent career and relax.

Aisha exhaled. Papa, I like what I do. Additionally, I'm good. I assure you.

"We just worry about you," her mother remarked gently. And maybe you may meet a wonderful guy, get married.

Aisha rolled her eyes, but a grin pulled at her mouth. "Mama, I am working on it. One progressive step at a time.

"Why would you not find a decent man? Please relax. And you're not getting any younger, you know. Her mother's voice mixed worry with irritation. Regarding Malik you brought up, what about?

Aisha ran her hands over her temples. "Mom; we have discussed this. Malik and I just work together.

And I like working at it.

One could clearly hear her mother sigh. "You constantly say that. But keep in mind that your family is here for you no matter what.

Aisha rolled her eyes but could not suppress a grin. Mom, I know. Right now, I am totally focused on my job. I swear to pay a quick visit.

Her mother let out a big yawn. You say this constantly. Just guarantee me you will look after yourself.

"Mom, I will. I vow.

Aisha cut off the conversation after comforting her parents. She stared at her smiling flatmate.

Evie mocked her.

"They won't stop worrying, either. Sofia mocked.

"Never," Aisha shook her head and agreed. But I would not have it any other way.

"You know, one day you'll have to tell your parents a billionaire isn't going to fix all your problems."

Aisha giggled. "Perhaps." A little financial consistency, however, would not be detrimental.

Aisha hung up and settled on the sofa with Evie. You're correct, you know, she said. "Being with a billionaire would help to address many issues. Malik and me, nevertheless, It's difficult.

Evie started to chuckle. "Love always is.

Aisha entered the busy Newsroom of "The Manhattan Sentinel" early the following morning. Established in the late 1960s, the Sentinel had a legendary record of unafraid reporting. Over a century, its reporters have unearthed scandals, revealed corruption, and supported the underdog. Reflecting its tradition of excellence, the newsroom's walls were covered with framed front pages of innovative stories and Pulitzer Prizes.

Aisha entered with a flash of pride. The Sentinel served as her passion, her goal, not just a job. She headed towards her desk, past the hive of activity. Reporters crowded in heated debates, phones rang off-target, and the air was clattering keyboards.

Marcus Bennett, her editor, sat in his glass-walled office, his dominating authority earning respect. Marcus, a no-nonsense thinker with great intelligence, was the reason the Sentinel kept succeeding. Aisha saw Riley Montgomery, the eccentric tech-savvy intern, bent over their computer, gaze fixed on the screen as she walked towards her workstation.

"Morning, Riley," Aisha said.

The scene was tight, the air heavy with the intensity of breaking news. Marcus Bennett, the editor-in-chief, yelled out as she got to her desk.

Rodriguez! Right now, my office.

As Aisha headed to Marcus's office, the newsroom became quiet as her coworkers watched her every step. Her heart hammering, she went inside the office. Marcus seemed austere in his perfect suit.

The space consisted of a big desk, a wall of monitors, and a variety of publications and reports. Frustration clearly carved Jonathan's face.

"Aisha, I need you to explain why you were involved in that mess at the Metropolitan Club," Jonathan said with a stern tone.

"What the devil happened last night?" he said.

"We were following a lead on Greystone," Aisha said, when Marcus stopped her off.

And you arrived in the midst of a fight? What sort of heat does this bring down on us?

Deep breathing came first for Aisha. "I went there on a lead for research. Malik Thomson was arrested; I had nothing to do with it.

Marcus closed his eyes. "That could be, but your participation in well-publicized instances is generating unwarranted issues. This type of diversion is unaffordable for us.

Aisha spoke in a cool yet strong manner. "I see, Marcus." Still, this is a significant example. You must let me do my work if you want results.

Jonathan fixed her for a long annoyed glance before nodding sharply. Alright. Still, I am expecting results shortly. Eliminate distractions now.

Deep breathing came naturally to Aisha. "We learnt some very useful stuff. It relates everything around Greystone's actions.

Marcus was about to reply when the door behind Aisha cracked open. She turned to see Henry Greystone himself entering the office, his demeanour one of smug calm.

Greystone murmured gently, "Ms. Rodriguez," his predatory desire shining in his eyes. "I think we ought to have a conversation."

As Greystone's presence loomed, the room was charged with electric tension; Aisha understood the actual degree of the danger she was in. The game was far from over.