Ray took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden tremor in his hand. "Who is it?" He yelled, his voice indicating a slight sway that he regretted right away. "We represent a party interested in your recent... activities, Mr. Carter," the voice replied, cool and precise, unmistakably belonging to the woman he'd seen from the window. "It would be in your best interest to open the door." Activities?
What activities? He was a nobody in this life, just a guy working at a car wash, trying to restart his trading career. Unless... unless this was about his past self, the one he barely remembered. Or worse, what if it was about the AI trading bot? Had his brief foray into the market already attracted unwanted attention? Against his better judgment, Ray slowly reached for the doorknob.
He had no weapons, no escape route. Running was impossible. He had to deal with this. He turned the knob and slammed the door open, taking a steady breath again. The woman stood there, exactly as he'd seen her, radiating an almost intimidating composure. Her eyes, a piercing shade of grey, swept over him, taking in his rumpled clothes and the worn interior of his apartment.
Behind her, two burly men in dark suits stood silently, their expressions unreadable, their presence radiating a subtle threat. "Mr. Carter," she stated, not a question, her voice like ice. "Ms. is my name. Eleanor Vance. May we come in?" Ray hesitated, but he knew he had no choice because the men behind her changed almost imperceptibly. He stepped back and pushed the door open wider to let them in.
The small apartment suddenly felt even smaller, suffocating under their presence. Ms. Vance walked in first, her gaze immediately locking onto his old laptop on the table. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "We understand you've recently taken an interest in the financial markets,"
Ms. Vance began, her voice low but carrying an undeniable weight. She didn't sit; rather, she stood in the middle of his living room, giving him the impression that he was the one being questioned there.
Ray swallowed. "I... I'm trying to make a living," he stammered, trying to sound like the unassuming Ray Carter of this timeline. "Just a small personal investment." "A 'small personal investment' that has shown an abnormal rate of return for someone with your... historical trading record," she countered, her gaze unwavering. "And a still odder reliance on sophisticated algorithmic trading for a person of your current means." Ray felt his heart pounding against his ribs.
How did they become aware of the bot? How did they know his "historical trading record" in this life? His cover was blown before he even properly started. "We have reason to believe, Mr. Carter," Ms. Vance continued, stepping closer to the laptop, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "that you possess knowledge that you shouldn't.
Knowledge that could disrupt... certain established orders." Her fingers lightly grazed the lid of his laptop. "Tell me, Mr. Where did you acquire such cutting-edge techniques, Carter? And more importantly, what are your intentions with them?"
Ray looked at the three figures looming over him. He was trapped. The dream of his easy second chance was shattering around him, revealing a far more dangerous reality. They weren't here about the Thompson twins. They were here about the Forex God.