Chapter 10 - The False Haven
Eleanor dropped to her knees beside the dying private investigator.
"Arthur, who did this to you?" Eleanor cried, pressing her hands against his bleeding chest.
Arthur coughed violently, forcing the small, silver flash drive into Eleanor's bloody palm.
"This drive has all the unencrypted offshore bank transfers," Arthur gasped, his eyes losing focus.
"It proves exactly who paid the doctor and who funded the hitmen."
Arthur took one final, rattling breath and died on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse.
Eleanor and Emily had no time to mourn, as the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the docks.
They abandoned the stolen truck and vanished into the labyrinth of the city's underground subway system.
Eleanor knew there was only one place left in the entire world where they could truly be safe.
They traveled for hours, taking a confusing route of trains and buses to reach a highly secure luxury apartment complex in Manhattan.
It was the secret safehouse of Marcus, Eleanor's lifelong best friend and the lead attorney for her company.
Marcus opened the door, his eyes widening in absolute shock when he saw their battered and bloody appearance.
"My god, Eleanor, come inside quickly," Marcus urged, ushering them into the opulent, soundproofed living room.
He locked the heavy steel-reinforced door behind them, engaging four separate deadbolts.
Eleanor finally collapsed onto the expensive sofa, weeping tears of pure relief as Emily sat closely beside her.
They were finally safe, completely hidden from the police and from Richard's brutal assassins.
Marcus poured them both a steaming cup of expensive chamomile tea to calm their shattered nerves.
"We have the proof, Marcus," Eleanor said triumphantly, handing him the silver flash drive.
"This will clear my name and send Richard to prison for the rest of his miserable life."
Marcus smiled warmly, taking the flash drive and plugging it into his sleek silver laptop on the desk.
He opened the decrypted financial files, displaying the massive list of illegal wire transfers on the large monitor.
Eleanor leaned forward to read the screen, but her smile completely vanished as she recognized the offshore routing numbers.
The accounts funding the hitmen and the doctor did not belong to her husband.
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They were Marcus's personal, highly guarded offshore accounts.
Marcus slowly closed the laptop, pulled a suppressed pistol from his desk drawer, and smiled coldly at the two women.
