Chapter 8 - THE REVERSAL
Two days later, the first message arrived.
It was handwritten, delivered by an unknown courier to the front gate. No return address. No signature. Just a single line in elegant, slanted ink: Stop digging. Or the next death will not be slow.
Daniel turned pale when he read it. “This is a threat. Against us.”
“It is confirmation,” I said, folding the note carefully. “They know we have spoken to the specialist. They know we are asking questions. They are afraid.”
“Afraid enough to kill us?”
“They already killed Arthur.” I placed the note beside the ledger. “And they are watching us closely. Too closely. Which means someone in our circle is reporting everything we do.”
Daniel looked up sharply. “Here? In this house?”
“Either here or very close.” I walked to the door. “Which means we must be careful what we say. Even in private. Even to people we have known for years.”
That evening brought another, more personal blow.
Daniel received a telephone call from his own attorney—retained since Rachel’s arrest. The man informed him, calmly and professionally, that he could no longer represent us. The allegations against us were too serious. The risk to his reputation too great. He advised us to cooperate fully with the authorities and accept whatever punishment we deserved.
“He didn’t even sound like himself,” Daniel said after hanging up. “He was nervous. Distant. As if someone was standing right beside him while he spoke.”
“They reached him,” I said. “Just as they reached the board, the police, the investigators, and the press. They are systematically removing every person who might help us.”
“Then we are truly alone.”
“Not entirely.” I pulled a folded paper from my desk drawer. “Arthur anticipated this possibility. Years ago, he gave me this name. He said if everything else fell apart… if everyone turned against us… we should go to this man.”
Daniel leaned forward. “Who is he?”
“An old friend. From long before Whitmore Holdings existed. Someone who owes Arthur his life. Someone who cannot be bought.” I handed him the paper. “His name is William Ashworth. And his initials are W.A. Not A.W.”
Daniel frowned. “Close. But reversed.”
May you like
“Deliberately, perhaps. Or perhaps a coincidence. But Arthur trusted him. And right now, that is more than we can say for anyone else.”
I stood up and reached for my coat. “We leave at dawn. We go to him. We tell him everything. And we hope that Arthur’s faith in him was not misplaced.”
