CHAPTER 270: OPERATIONAL CONTROL

"What’s the ownership of Black Cipher Ltd?"

Cho cleared his throat, hesitation etched in the lines around his mouth. "Black Cipher’s a Matryoshka doll, Lilian. Shells within shells. But..." He pulled up a scanned document – a faded investor agreement from Steele’s nascent crypto days. "Hold on, I think I’ve found something."

Lilian hurried to his position. "What? What is it? Show me right away!"

Cho isolated a buried file path. His screen dissolved into a loading bar, seconds stretching as the system churned. Finally, the document resolved, revealing not the expected agreement, but a meticulously obscured ledger entry: a high-value money transfer. "Got it," he breathed.

"What’s this?" Lilian said, squinting at the glowing numbers, her voice tight with suspicion. "You said it was an investor agreement. This looks more like a specially hidden money transfer. Deliberately buried."

Cho jabbed a finger at a specific field on the screen, the cursor hovering. "Look where the money was originating. The source account."

She followed his finger, tracing the line of data until the name resolved: Red Fang Association.

Lilian’s eyes widened, the color draining slightly from her face. "The Red Fang?" she muttered, her voice turning hoarse. "They were dismantled last year, wiped clean by the LAPD raid... triggered by an anonymous tip."

"An anonymous tip indeed," Cho echoed, leaning back in his chair with a grim satisfaction, the glow of the screen reflecting in his glasses. Pride warred with unease in his expression.

Lilian’s mind raced, struggling to connect the jagged pieces. "Darren Steele was an associate of Red Fang. This transfer... it’s dated the same day, just hours before the raid. It has to be part of a frantic money laundering scramble before the net closed."

Cho pursed his lips, considering, then offered a darker possibility. "Or think about this. What if the anonymous tip... was Darren Steele?"

Lilian snapped her gaze to him. Instantly, the implications slammed into place with brutal clarity. "He ratted them out," she breathed, a fierce understanding dawning. "He tipped off the cops after siphoning their cash. Used their downfall to bankroll his own shady empire. It all makes sickening sense now!"

A surge of adrenaline-fueled triumph washed over her. If she could definitively link this stolen capital to the seed money for his current operation – laundering through Bitcoin fronts like Black Cipher – she’d have Darren Steele behind bars before the end of the week. This wasn’t just a lead; it was a potential cornerstone.

This discovery alone might compel a judge to grant an emergency warrant, especially for his Nevarro warehouse. She needed to move fast, before Steele could purge his systems or destroy evidence. He wouldn’t get the time.

With a burst of fierce determination, Lilian tapped Cho firmly on the shoulder. "Good work, Cho. Damn good." Her voice was tight with urgency. "Print it out. Every shred. And then – cross-reference everything. Find me the link between this money, Bitcoin transactions through Nevarro, and any of his shell companies – Black Cipher, Delvarate, Trendteller. Scour his digital assets. He buries things deep; dig deeper."

"Will do, ma’am," Cho replied, already turning back to his keyboard.

She spun on her heel, addressing the room. "The rest of you. Eyes sharp. Back to work. Now." Her command sliced through the air.

Exchanging brief, knowing glances – a mix of apprehension and shared purpose – Cho and the team bent to their tasks as Lilian strode out, the door clicking shut with sharp finality behind her.

She moved swiftly down the sterile corridors, bypassing security with a curt nod, clutching the freshly printed, warm pages Cho had handed her at the printer bay just outside the tech room. The evidence felt heavy, potent. She didn’t pause until she reached Caldridge’s office, pushing the door open without knocking.

Caldridge stood as always, a silhouette against the window, staring out at the cloudless sky, hands clasped tightly behind his back. The ever-present shades masked his eyes.

"Doesn’t seem like a friendly visit, Agent Greaves," he muttered, not turning.

"He’s tied to the Red Fang," Lilian stated flatly, cutting through the formality.

Caldridge went utterly still. A beat of heavy silence followed before he slowly turned his head, just enough to look at her over his shoulder. "Tied? Darren Steele?"

"Yes." Lilian stepped forward, thrusting the printed evidence towards him. "These transfers. From the Red Fang’s confiscated primary account. Directly into a personal account linked to Steele. Buried so deep standard forensics missed it. TALON is the only reason Cho unearthed it." She leaned in, her intensity palpable. "Do you realize the scale? If he had a channel to move millions unnoticed then, imagine what he’s laundering now?"

Caldridge took the papers, his movements deliberate. He studied the accounts, the transfer amounts, the damning date and timestamp. A minute stretched. Finally, he lowered the pages, his expression unreadable behind the shades. He extended the papers back towards her, dismissively. "This only proves he wouldn’t need Bitcoin for laundering. It undermines your current case theory, Lilian. And this," he tapped the sheet, "shows a transaction. A connection, perhaps opportunistic. Not proof of active affiliation or current criminal enterprise."

Lilian’s frown deepened into anger. "A *sophisticated* money launderer doesn’t rely on one channel! They diversify, layer, spread their operations precisely because channels get shut down! This is his pattern!"

Caldridge sighed, a weary sound. "How would I know the mind of a criminal financier?"

"And even if it doesn’t scream ’active membership’," Lilian pressed, stepping closer, her voice rising, "it shows enough of a connection – a criminal financial connection – to establish probable cause for a warrant, doesn’t it? The FBI hunted Red Fang for years! Murder, extortion, trafficking... and if Steele profited from that, and is still profiting through new schemes, we have a duty to act now!"

Caldridge remained silent, turning fully back to the window, his posture rigid. The sunlight glinted off his lenses.

"Sir!" Lilian snapped, moving deliberately into his line of sight, forcing him to acknowledge her presence. The papers crumpled slightly in her clenched fist. "I need an answer! Can I go catch this son of a bitch or not?! Can I get a judge to sign off on an emergency warrant for Nevarro?!"

Caldridge’s gaze dropped from the skyline to her face. His voice, when it came, was low and flat. "What are you waiting for? This is your mission. You have operational control. Use it."

Lilian held his obscured gaze for a charged moment. Then, resolve hardened her features into flint. She gave him a single, sharp, devoted nod, turned on her heel, and strode out as he watched.