Chapter 13: The Mastermind Revealed
The distorted voice echoed through every room of the Whitmore mansion.
“Good evening, everyone.”
No one moved.
The steel shutters covering every window reflected the flashing emergency lights, turning the elegant estate into a fortress.
Special Agent Rebecca Mills immediately spoke into her radio.
“All teams, stay alert. No one separates.”
Static answered her.
Then silence.
“Our radios are being jammed,” one agent said.
Detective Daniel Carter pulled out his cell phone.
“No signal.”
Marcus checked his satellite phone.
Even it displayed CONNECTION LOST.
The mastermind had prepared for this.
The voice returned over the mansion’s intercom.
“You’ve all worked very hard to reach this point.”
There was a hint of amusement in the speaker’s tone.
“Marcus… Daniel… Rebecca… Eleanor…”
A brief pause followed.
“…and Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel’s heart pounded.
“You know all our names.”
“I know much more than your names.”
The voice continued calmly.
“For fifteen years, every decision you believed was your own was carefully anticipated.”
Rebecca whispered to Carter,
“He’s watching us.”
“Find the security room,” Carter replied.
Two FBI agents forced open the door to the mansion’s surveillance office.
Rows of monitors displayed live video from every hallway, every staircase, and every room.
Except one.
The screen controlling the surveillance system was black.
Across the monitor appeared a single sentence.
YOU ARE ALREADY TOO LATE.
One agent hurried to the equipment rack.
“The hard drives are gone.”
“They were removed recently.”
Meanwhile, Eleanor slowly walked toward the center of the foyer.
“You wanted me alive.”
The voice answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because only you can legally approve the emergency transfer.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“What transfer?”
Marcus’s expression suddenly changed.
“No…”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You know?”
Marcus nodded grimly.
“The Founder’s Reserve.”
Nathaniel had never heard the term before.
“What is that?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“My husband established a contingency fund decades ago.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“Nearly six billion dollars.”
The room fell silent.
Nathaniel stared at her in disbelief.
“There’s another fortune?”
“It was never meant to be touched.”
Marcus spoke quietly.
“It activates only if the Whitmore Foundation is facing collapse.”
Rebecca immediately understood.
“And only Eleanor can authorize it.”
Eleanor nodded.
“That’s why they kept me alive.”
Suddenly, the grandfather clock chimed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Marcus looked toward it.
“That’s strange.”
James frowned.
“It shouldn’t chime until midnight.”
The clock continued.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Then…
A mechanical click echoed inside the foyer.
Detective Carter spun around.
“Everyone back!”
The marble floor beneath the clock slowly separated.
A circular platform rose silently from below.
Standing on it…
…was a man in an expensive charcoal-gray suit.
He appeared to be in his early sixties, with neatly combed silver hair and calm blue eyes.
He wasn't wearing a mask.
He wasn't armed.
He smiled politely.
“Good evening.”
Nathaniel stared at him.
“I know you.”
The man nodded.
“Yes.”
“You attended my father’s funeral.”
“I did.”
“You served on our Foundation’s board.”
Again, the man smiled.
“My name is Charles Ashford.”
Eleanor’s face went completely pale.
“No…”
Marcus whispered under his breath,
“It can’t be.”
Nathaniel looked between them.
“You know him?”
Eleanor’s voice trembled.
“He was Richard’s oldest friend.”
Charles inclined his head.
“For over forty years.”
Nathaniel’s breathing became uneven.
“You murdered my father?”
Charles sighed.
“I had hoped we could have a civilized conversation.”
Rebecca Mills raised her service weapon.
“Charles Ashford, you’re under arrest.”
Charles didn’t even look at her.
“You still believe this is about murder.”
His smile widened.
“You're thinking much too small.”
Charles slowly removed a gold pocket watch from his vest.
He checked the time.
“Three minutes.”
Marcus frowned.
“Three minutes until what?”
Charles looked directly at Eleanor.
“Until every account controlled by the Whitmore Foundation transfers to offshore holding companies beyond the reach of any government.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened.
“He already started the transfer.”
Charles nodded.
“Hours ago.”
Nathaniel lunged toward him.
“You’ll never get away with this!”
Before Nathaniel could reach him, the floor beneath Charles’ platform suddenly began descending.
“No!” Marcus shouted.
Charles remained perfectly calm as the hidden elevator carried him downward.
“You’re welcome to follow me,” he said.
“But I should warn you…”
The platform disappeared into darkness.
His final words echoed through the shaft.
“…not everyone in this house is on your side.”
The hidden passage sealed shut.
Silence filled the foyer.
Then…
One of the FBI agents quietly raised his rifle.
Not toward the tunnel.
Toward Detective Carter.
Rebecca slowly turned.
Three more “FBI agents” did the same.
Marcus immediately understood.
Charles hadn’t come alone.
May you like
The Whitmore mansion had been infiltrated from the very beginning.
And the final battle had just begun.
