The meeting place was an abandoned printing warehouse beyond the crowded center of Phnom Penh.
I saw none of it live.
That was Harris’s condition.
No operational feed.
No open police radio.
No connection Arthur might detect.
So I waited in Lena’s apartment while darkness fell there and morning light strengthened here, measuring time by Nora’s feedings and the changing expressions on Ruiz’s face.
Waiting was worse than action.
In the basement cage, I had at least been able to move a floor panel, hide a phone, watch Marcus’s mother, count contractions.
Now other people were moving.
I could only receive consequences.
Mae entered the warehouse at 8:17 p.m. local time.
Alone, apparently.
She carried a hard black case.
Arthur’s people searched her.
No weapon.
No tracker they could find.
The case contained four encrypted drives and a paper binder.
The decoy archive.
Arthur arrived six minutes later.
Harris did not tell me that immediately.
He waited until visual identification was confirmed.
“Arthur is there.”
I closed my eyes.
“Arthur Bell?”
“Positive identification.”
Not Arthur Rose.
Not a representative.
Not a double.
Arthur himself.
Charles’s rule had worked.
Make him stand in front.
“Samuel?”
“Not visible.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Then Mae shouldn’t hand him anything.”
“She knows.”
“What is Arthur doing?”
“Talking.”
“Can you hear?”
“No.”
That was unbearable.
Two siblings who had spent thirty years fighting through files and proxies were finally standing in the same room.
No one could hear them.
Ten minutes passed.
Then Mae opened the case.
Arthur examined the binder.
One drive.
Then another.
He had brought a laptop.
“Can the decoy survive inspection?”
“For a while.”
“What happens when he decrypts it?”
“Mae says it contains genuine old material.”
“Real?”
“Yes.”
“So he’ll recognize it.”
“That is the point.”
“But incomplete.”
“Very.”
Arthur would see enough truth to believe the container.
Not enough to recover his power.
“What about Samuel?”
“No movement.”
“Then Arthur may have hidden him somewhere else.”
“Likely.”
The plan depended on Arthur ordering release once satisfied.
If he did not, Mae had traded nothing for nothing.
Then a second vehicle approached.
Ruiz stood.
“What?”
Harris listened through his earpiece.
“Three people.”
My heart hammered.
“Samuel?”
“Wait.”
I hated that word.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Then Harris nodded.
“Adult male matching Samuel. Adult female. Teenage girl.”
All alive.
I covered my mouth.
Arthur had brought them.
“Restrained?”
“Samuel’s hands appear bound. Wife and daughter not visibly restrained.”
“Guards?”
“Four.”
“Dr. Kent?”
“No.”
“Charles double?”
“Unknown.”
Mae turned toward her family.
Arthur stopped her.
Even without audio, the movement was clear to observers.
He wanted something else.
“What?”
Harris did not know.
Arthur pointed at the laptop.
Mae shook her head.
Arthur pointed toward Samuel.
My stomach tightened.
“He wants the password.”
“Probably.”
Mae had planned for that.
She entered something.
The decoy opened.
Arthur searched.
Pages.
Directories.
Index entries.
Enough genuine information to convince him.
Then he smiled.
Harris told me later that this was the moment everything changed.
Arthur relaxed.
Not much.
Enough.
He believed he had won.
He ordered one guard to cut Samuel’s restraints.
Samuel’s wife moved toward him.
Their daughter followed.
Mae stayed where she was.
Arthur closed the case.
Then a man stepped out from behind stacked printing equipment.
Charles Mercer.
Alive.
Older than the double.
Tired.
Thin.
But unmistakably Charles.
Arthur stopped.
Even at distance, observers saw it.
His entire posture changed.
“Charles went in?”
“Yes.”
“Was that planned?”
“Mae told police she had support. She never named him.”
“Is he armed?”
“Unknown.”
“Arthur?”
“No visible weapon.”
“Guards?”
“Still armed.”
I stood even though standing accomplished nothing.
“What is Charles doing?”
“Talking.”
Again.
No audio.
The two men faced each other.
Arthur’s old collaborator.
Peter’s brother.
The man who helped fake Arthur’s death and spent years trying to contain the consequences.
Then Charles held up something.
A small recorder.
Arthur looked at Mae.
She did not move.
“What is it?”
“We don’t know.”
Charles pressed a button.
One of Arthur’s guards reacted.
Another looked toward Arthur.
Then the first guard lowered his weapon.
“What happened?”
“Wait.”
The second guard lowered his too.
Arthur turned sharply.
Something on the recorder had changed them.
“What could Charles have?”
Lena had come into the room.
“Arthur threatening them?”
“Maybe.”
Ruiz listened.
Then looked at us.
“Cambodian officers are receiving audio now.”
“How?”
“Charles placed a transmitter inside the recorder.”
So he had not trusted Mae’s no-tracker rule entirely.
Good.
For once, someone broke a rule in a useful direction.
The audio came through in fragments.
Arthur’s voice.
Not current.
Recorded.
“…once the exchange is complete…”
Static.
“…Lennox family…”
Then clearer:
“…no witnesses from the local team.”
I felt cold.
Arthur planned to kill his own guards.
Charles had played the recording for them.
Arthur’s certainty again.
He assumed paid people remained loyal because money made them predictable.
Charles showed them they were disposable.
The guards moved away from Arthur.
One stepped toward the exit.
Arthur said something sharply.
Nobody obeyed.
Then Samuel grabbed his daughter and pulled her behind him.
Mae moved toward them.
Arthur reached inside his jacket.
Everything happened at once.
Police shouted.
Guards scattered.
Charles lunged.
Mae dropped.
A gunshot cracked through the transmitted audio.
I stopped breathing.
Another shot.
Then shouting.
The feed died.
Ruiz’s face went white.
“Harris.”
He was already trying to get information.
No one spoke for nearly a minute.
Nora began crying upstairs.
The sound broke me out of the paralysis.
Lena went to her.
I remained beside the phone.
“Harris.”
“Teams entered.”
“Arthur?”
“Unknown.”
“Mae?”
“Unknown.”
“Samuel?”
“Unknown.”
“Charles?”
“Unknown.”
Another minute.
Then:
“Family recovered.”
“Alive?”
“Samuel alive. Wife alive. Daughter alive.”
I exhaled.
“Mae?”
Pause.
“Alive.”
“Shot?”
“No.”
“Charles?”
Longer pause.
“Wounded.”
“How bad?”
“Gunshot to shoulder. Conscious.”
“And Arthur?”
Harris listened.
His expression hardened.
“He escaped.”
Of course.
“How?”
“Rear service exit.”
“Police perimeter?”
“Vehicle breached it.”
“Who drove?”
“Unknown.”
“Case?”
Harris listened again.
“Arthur took the decoy.”
That was good.
At least partially.
“He thinks it’s real.”
“Probably.”
“Can Mae track it?”
“No conventional tracker.”
“What does that mean?”
Harris almost smiled.
“The drives report access through a hidden network handshake.”
Mae had refused a tracker on herself.
Not on her own fake archive.
“Can it locate him?”
“When he connects a drive to an internet-enabled device.”
Arthur would.
He needed to verify the archive.
“How long?”
“Unknown.”
I hated that answer.
But now it meant waiting for Arthur to make the next move.
Charles was taken to hospital under guard.
Mae and Samuel’s family were moved to protection.
The warehouse was processed.
One of Arthur’s guards surrendered.
Another escaped.
Two were detained.
The surrendered guard confirmed Arthur had planned to eliminate everyone after obtaining the archive.
Including him.
Including Samuel’s family.
Including Mae.
Arthur never intended an exchange.
Only acquisition.
“What about the driver who got him out?”
“Vehicle found abandoned.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Cameras?”
“Being checked.”
“Could he leave Cambodia?”
“Alerts are active.”
“False passport.”
“Yes.”
“Bell Strategic document center.”
“Seized.”
“Other resources?”
“Unknown.”
Arthur had spent decades preparing alternatives.
One seized office would not strand him.
Then Mae called.
Her voice was tired.
“You were right.”
I almost laughed.
“About what?”
“I needed more than Charles.”
“Are you going to make a habit of admitting that?”
“No.”
Fair.
“How is Samuel?”
“Angry.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“He has been angry with me for twenty years.”
“Why?”
“Because I disappeared from his life to protect him.”
“Did it?”
“For a long time.”
Until Arthur found him.
“Does he know who Arthur is?”
“Now.”
“Did he know you had the archive?”
“No.”
“Does he forgive you?”
“That is not tonight’s problem.”
There was something in her tone I understood.
Survival first.
Meaning later.
“What did Charles play for the guards?”
“An intercepted instruction Arthur gave their supervisor.”
“He knew Arthur would kill them.”
“Yes.”
“How did Charles get it?”
“He has been inside Bell Strategic’s communications for months.”
That surprised me.
“Months?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not expose Arthur earlier?”
“Because Arthur never placed himself inside the communications.”
“Until?”
“Northstar reopened.”
“He started giving direct orders.”
“Yes.”
“Charles was waiting for evidence tying Arthur personally to current crimes.”
“Yes.”
“And tonight forced him into the open.”
“Yes.”
The old agreement had not truly stood.
Charles had used Arthur’s belief in it.
“What happens now?”
“Arthur opens the drives.”
“And?”
“He discovers the archive is real enough to hurt him and incomplete enough to be useless.”
“Then he knows you deceived him.”
“Yes.”
“He comes after you again.”
“No.”
Mae sounded certain.
“Why not?”
“Because the decoy contains one file he will care about more.”
“What file?”
“His own.”
Silence.
“You have a file on Arthur.”
“Thomas and I built one.”
“What is in it?”
“Enough to make him believe Charles betrayed him long before Peter died.”
“Did Charles?”
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
“How long?”
“Thirty years.”
“Since Jonathan Reed?”
“Shortly after.”
“So Charles was never truly loyal?”
“Loyalty is complicated.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Charles helped Arthur do terrible things. Then spent decades trying to limit them without admitting his own responsibility.”
That sounded more believable than redemption.
“What does Arthur’s file say?”
“Where Charles kept the first copy of the Jonathan Reed evidence.”
“Where?”
Mae paused.
“Back where Arthur began.”
“The original Carter office?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“The garage where Jonathan’s car was altered.”
My skin chilled.
“Still exists?”
“Yes.”
“What is there now?”
“A private repair business.”
“Evidence after thirty-one years?”
“Not physical evidence from the car.”
“Then what?”
“Arthur’s original payment record.”
“Why would Charles hide it there?”
“Because Arthur never imagined anyone would preserve the first proof at the scene of his first successful cover-up.”
The decoy told Arthur that evidence existed there.
“You want him to go.”
“Yes.”
“It’s bait.”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
“Being informed now.”
I understood.
Mae’s false archive was not merely something Arthur could steal.
It was a path.
One carefully designed to pull him toward the place where his system began.
Arthur believed he had escaped with Northstar.
In reality, he was carrying directions to his own first crime.
Click here to continue reading: PART 35: Arthur Followed the Decoy Archive Back to His First Crime, but the Garage Held One Witness He Had Believed Dead for Thirty Years
The Night My Husband Carried a Welding Torch Downstairs and Told Me Nobody Would Ever Come Looking
Part 34 of 40
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