"From the raid?"
I felt my pulse quicken.
She paused.
"Nine days before the raid."
I stared toward the dark kitchen window.
Then asked, "What's on it?"
Dana took a breath.
"Mercer. Sloane. And Isaac Brooks."
For several seconds, I could not speak.
Then she continued.
"They're discussing the property."
I looked toward the clock.
"How soon can I get there?"
I reached for my jacket.
And twenty minutes later, I was driving through the city toward the laboratory, knowing that a few recovered minutes might explain why an entire police precinct had been willing to make evidence disappear.
The recording began with the sound of a door opening.
Then footsteps.
A chair scraping against the floor.
And a voice I recognized immediately from my interviews.
Isaac Brooks.
"What exactly do you want from me?"
The quality was imperfect.
There was background noise from the garage.
A compressor running somewhere nearby.
A telephone ringing.
But the words were clear enough to understand.
A second man answered.
Graham Sloane.
"We want to resolve the property situation."
Isaac sounded tired.
"I've already told you. I'm not selling."
Sloane sighed.
"Mr. Brooks, you're standing in the way of an investment that could transform this district."
"My family built this business."
"We understand that."
"No, you don't."
A pause followed.
Then Isaac continued.
"My father worked on this property before I owned it. I spent thirty-five years turning it into something. Eleven people work here. Some have children in college. Some have mortgages."
Sloane's voice became impatient.
"You've made your position clear."
"Then why are you here?"
A third man spoke.
Deputy Chief Harold Mercer.
"Isaac, nobody wants trouble."
I felt the room around me become very still.
The examiner sat beside the computer.
Dana stood behind me.
Mercer's voice continued.
"But you need to understand that this property has attracted attention."
Isaac answered sharply.
"From whom?"
"Several agencies."
"What kind of attention?"
"Regulatory. Criminal. Administrative."
A brief silence followed.
Then Isaac said something that made my skin tighten.
"Are you threatening me?"
Mercer answered calmly.
"I'm telling you that cooperation can prevent complications."
Isaac gave a bitter laugh.
"So that's what this is."
Sloane interrupted.
"Don't make this emotional."
The recording continued.
Isaac said he had an attorney.
Sloane replied that lawyers were expensive.
Mercer suggested that ongoing investigations could affect the company's ability to operate.
Then Isaac asked why a senior police commander was attending a private real-estate negotiation.
For several seconds, nobody answered.
Finally, Mercer spoke.
"I'm here to encourage a peaceful resolution."
Isaac's response was immediate.
"Then encourage him to leave my property."
The chair moved.
Footsteps followed.
Then Sloane's voice returned, colder than before.
"This offer won't remain available."
Isaac answered.