Chapter 49: Cut Signal

No one slept that night.

The confession letter lay beneath a sheet of protective plastic on the conference table.

Every sentence had been photographed, scanned and backed up in three separate locations.

Victor refused to take any chances.

"If Briggs dies," he said quietly, "this statement survives."

Arthur looked up from his laptop.

"Still nothing on his phone."

"It went dark at 8:17 yesterday morning."

"Bank cards?" Damien asked.

"Unused."

"Vehicle?"

"Abandoned outside the old courthouse."

Victor folded his arms.

"He wanted us looking in the wrong place."

"Or someone wanted that," I replied.

Rose entered carrying fresh coffee.

"Madam... there's another package."

She placed a small cardboard box on the table.

No return address.

No postage stamp.

It had been hand-delivered.

"Careful," Arthur warned.

Victor slowly opened the lid.

Inside rested a disposable mobile phone.

Nothing else.

The screen suddenly lit up.

Incoming call.

Unknown.

Nobody reached for it.

The phone continued vibrating until the ringing stopped.

A second later, another notification appeared.

One voicemail.

Victor activated the speaker.

Static crackled through the room.

Then came Detective Briggs's voice.

"If you're hearing this..."

He sounded exhausted.

"Don't try tracing the call."

"It won't work."

"They're listening."

Heavy breathing followed.

"Mercer isn't his real name."

"None of the names are real anymore."

"The files..."

"Don't trust the digital copies."

"Only the originals matter."

A loud metallic bang interrupted him.

"They're here."

"Vivian..."

"Your brother was never supposed to die."

The recording ended abruptly.

Silence returned.

"That wasn't a voicemail," Arthur said.

"It was pre-recorded."

"Scheduled to send."

"Can you locate where it was recorded?" Victor asked.

"Trying now."

Arthur connected the phone to his computer.

Minutes passed.

Finally he looked up.

"I've got something."

"The message originated from an abandoned telecommunications exchange on the east side of the city."

"When?" Damien asked.

"Three hours ago."

"Let's move," Victor said.

Within twenty minutes, two vehicles pulled up outside the abandoned exchange.

The concrete building stood surrounded by rusted fencing.

Telephone cables hung loose from broken walls.

"No lights," Arthur observed.

"No electricity either."

Victor signalled everyone to remain silent.

They entered through a damaged side door.

Dust covered the floor.

The building had clearly been empty for years.

Except...

"Footprints," I whispered.

Fresh.

Still damp from the rain.

Someone had entered recently.

The trail led downstairs.

Into the old communications room.

Rows of obsolete equipment lined the walls.

Arthur suddenly pointed ahead.

"There."

A portable satellite transmitter sat on a folding table.

Its battery indicator still glowed green.

"This transmitted the recording," Arthur said.

"Recently."

"Very recently."

Victor searched the room.

"Nobody's here."

"They're gone."

Then Damien noticed something taped beneath the transmitter.

Another envelope.

This one addressed to me.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Typed.

No signature.

"You keep chasing voices."

"You should be chasing silence."

At the bottom was a list of six telephone numbers.

Only one remained active.

Arthur immediately dialled it.

The call connected.

Somewhere inside the building, a mobile phone began ringing.

Everyone froze.

The sound echoed through the empty corridors.

Victor followed it into the next room.

An old filing cabinet stood against the wall.

The ringing came from inside.

He opened the top drawer.

A smartphone lay beneath several newspapers.

Its screen displayed Arthur's number.

"Trap," Damien muttered.

"Probably," Victor agreed.

The ringing stopped.

A new message appeared automatically.

Video received.

Arthur opened it.

The footage lasted only twenty-three seconds.

Detective Briggs sat tied to a chair.

His face was bruised.

A black hooded figure stood behind him.

The figure never spoke.

Instead, another unseen voice filled the room.

"Midnight tomorrow."

"One confession."

"One exchange."

"Bring Vivian Carter alone."

"Or Detective Briggs dies."

The screen went black.

Arthur checked the file.

"Metadata's gone."

"Completely stripped."

Victor remained expressionless.

"No."

"They made one mistake."

"What?" I asked.

He replayed the final second of the video.

Just before it ended, the camera shifted slightly.

In the reflection of a cracked window, another figure appeared.

Not the hooded man.

Someone standing beside the camera.

Only half a face was visible.

Damien stepped closer.

"Zoom in."

Arthur enlarged the reflection.

The image blurred.

Then sharpened.

My heart stopped.

"That's impossible..." I whispered.

The woman in the reflection looked exactly like Colette.

Except...

She wasn't wearing a maid's uniform.

She wore a dark business suit.

And hanging from her neck was an executive security pass.

Across the badge, barely visible beneath the glare, were three words.

Raven Capital Group.