Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
I was violently pulled from my truck, thrown against the cold metal door, and handcuffed tightly.
The FBI agents didn't read me my rights, they simply shoved me into the back of a heavily armored transport vehicle.
I was taken to a secret federal facility located deep underground in downtown Houston.
They locked me inside a freezing, windowless interrogation room made entirely of concrete and steel.
I sat alone at the metal table for three agonizing hours, my wrists bleeding from the tight steel cuffs.
Finally, the heavy door swung open and a woman in a sharp gray suit walked into the room.
She tossed a thick manila folder onto the table and introduced herself as Special Agent Reynolds.
She didn't look like a standard agent; she had the cold, calculating eyes of a seasoned intelligence officer.
"We have been building a RICO case against Marcus and the Santiago Cartel for five years," Reynolds stated bluntly.
She accused me of using Redwood Capital to clean millions of dollars in illegal drug profits.
I shook my head violently, maintaining my absolute innocence.
I explained that my son had forged my signature to sell the company out from under me.
Reynolds smirked and pulled a glossy photograph from the folder, sliding it toward me.
It was a surveillance photo taken inside the cartel warehouse near the ship channel.
The picture showed Brandon and Amber sitting comfortably at a luxury dining table with Hector, the cartel boss.
They weren't hostages tied to chairs, they were drinking expensive champagne and laughing.
"Your son wasn't kidnapped, Mr. Reeves," Agent Reynolds explained coldly.
"He orchestrated the fake kidnapping to trick you into voluntarily sending the fifty million to the cartel."
"If you had successfully completed that transfer tonight, the money would be legally untraceable."
My heart completely shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
Brandon had planned to take my money, fake his own death, and disappear with his greedy wife to a non-extradition country.
Agent Reynolds leaned closer, resting her hands flat on the metal table.
"We know you are innocent, Franklin, but we need your help to nail them all," she whispered.
She offered me a dangerous deal right there in the dark room.
The FBI wanted me to wear a hidden wire and deliver a fake bearer bond to the cartel warehouse tonight.
They needed me to get Hector and Brandon to explicitly confess to the conspiracy on tape.
If I agreed, I would get full immunity and my company back.
If I refused, I would spend the rest of my life in federal prison for the financial crimes Brandon committed in my name.
I looked at the photograph of my smiling, treacherous son one last time.
"Wire me up," I told the agent with a voice made of pure ice.
Reynolds smiled slightly and signaled to the mirror on the wall.
Two technicians walked in, but they weren't holding listening devices.
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They were holding a straightjacket and a syringe filled with a cloudy, yellow liquid.
"I'm sorry, Franklin, but Brandon pays us much better than the government does," Reynolds whispered as they grabbed my arms.
