Chương 8 - The Inside Man
The silence in the interrogation room was sudden and absolute.
Director Vance sat perfectly still, his eyes locked on me.
Charlotte slowly lowered the phone, the color completely draining from her face as she turned to look at me.
"What did he just say?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"He said the real thief is sitting right next to you," Vance repeated, his tone shifting from bureaucratic ally to federal investigator in a heartbeat.
My mind raced, trying to process the sudden, violent shift in reality.
"He's lying," I said, my voice rising in panic.
"He's trying to frame me to distract you!"
"He set this whole thing up!"
Charlotte stared at me, her sharp eyes searching my face for the truth she had believed an hour ago.
"You recognized the ring on the security footage," she said slowly, the realization dawning in her eyes.
"You identified David as the thief."
"You were the one who pointed us toward the marina."
"I did that because I saw his ring!" I protested, standing up from the metal chair.
"He was trying to escape!"
Vance stood up as well, his imposing frame blocking the door.
"Or," Vance suggested coldly, "you knew David was taking the fall, and you directed Ms. Mercer to the marina to ensure the evidence against you ended up at the bottom of the harbor."
"I dove into the freezing water to save that evidence!" I yelled, gesturing wildly.
"If I was the thief, I would have let it sink!"
"Unless you knew the hard drive was already encrypted and you needed to appear heroic to maintain your cover," Charlotte added, her voice now devoid of any warmth.
She stepped away from me, her posture rigid and defensive.
"You were the one who proposed the extortion call."
"You knew he wouldn't take the bait, but you needed to look like you were trying to help."
I felt the walls of the small room closing in on me.
The perfect logic of their accusations was terrifying because it fit the narrative Vale had constructed flawlessly.
"Charlotte, you have to believe me," I pleaded, my voice cracking.
"I didn't sell those blueprints."
"I want to save this firm just as much as you do!"
She looked at me, a cold, unfamiliar mask settling over her features.
"I don't know who you are anymore," she said quietly.
"Director Vance, I withdraw my request for an audit."
"I would like to formally press charges against this man for corporate espionage."
Vance nodded sharply.
"Wait outside, Ms. Mercer."
"We will take his official statement now."
Charlotte turned and walked out of the interrogation room without looking back.
The heavy metal door slammed shut, echoing with finality.
I was alone with Director Vance, officially a suspect in a federal crime, abandoned by the woman I was pretending to be engaged to.
Vance pulled out a small digital recorder and set it on the table.
"Sit down," he ordered.
I slowly sat back down in the metal chair, feeling completely defeated.
Vale had outplayed us at every turn, anticipating every move, using our own actions against us.
"Let's start from the beginning," Vance said, his voice flat and professional.
"Walk me through your movements at the Halberg Foundation gala."
I recounted the evening, trying to remember every detail, every conversation, every person I had interacted with before the blackout.
I told him about Peter Lang, the champagne, the sculpture gallery.
Vance listened silently, taking occasional notes.
"And you claim you have no memory of meeting with Marcus Sterling?" he asked.
"None," I insisted.
"I swear, the last thing I remember is talking to Charlotte in the gallery."
Vance paused, his pen hovering over the notepad.
"That's interesting," he said slowly.
"Because the security footage from the hotel bar clearly shows you sitting with Marcus Sterling at ten-fifteen p.m."
"I know," I said, hanging my head.
"Vale showed us the photos."
"Not the photos," Vance corrected, leaning forward.
"The video footage."
"My agents secured the hotel's security feeds an hour ago."
He reached into his file and pulled out a small tablet.
He tapped the screen and slid it across the table toward me.
"Watch it."
I looked at the screen.
It was a black-and-white feed showing a busy hotel bar.
A man who looked exactly like me, wearing the same tuxedo, was sitting at a corner table.
Marcus Sterling approached, sat down, and the man slid a thick architectural tube across the table.
But something was wrong.
I leaned closer, squinting at the grainy footage.
The man in the video was wearing a watch on his right wrist.
I am left-handed.
I always wear my watch on my left wrist.
I looked up at Vance, my heart pounding with a sudden, desperate hope.
"That's not me," I said, pointing at the screen.
"I wear my watch on the other wrist."
"That's a body double."
Vance stared at the screen, then back at me.
His expression remained unreadable for a long, agonizing moment.
Then, he reached over and turned off the digital recorder.
"I know," Vance said, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
"I noticed the watch discrepancy twenty minutes ago."
I stared at him in absolute shock.
"Then why did you just let Charlotte press charges against me?"
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"Because," Vance said, a grim smile appearing on his face, "if Richard Vale thinks you are taking the fall and Charlotte has abandoned you, he will finally lower his guard."
"We need him to believe he has won completely before he makes his final, fatal mistake."
