"Yes."
Everyone stared at the photo projected on the wall, their skin crawling with goosebumps. Paso's stomach churned at the sight.
Owen switched the image from the mangled body to a photo of the rooftop pool, giving everyone some relief.
Owen and Tony had been the first to secure the scene after the incident. They'd gone up to the rooftop themselves and saw the gaping hole in person.
The suspended portion of the pool was made entirely of reinforced transparent glass, but only one pane had shattered—the rest remained completely intact.
Tony had personally questioned Jabbar Bernie's bodyguards, but none of them had noticed anything unusual.
That same night, Tony contacted the rooftop pool's designer, who confirmed that the pool's suspended section was built using Chinese-made tempered glass.
Chinese tempered glass had a stellar international reputation for durability and shock resistance, outperforming similar products by several multiples. In tests, even sledgehammers couldn't break it.
Tempered glass was typically vulnerable only to sharp, high-pressure points—like stiletto heels—but those obviously wouldn't be in a pool. So, the designer himself was baffled as to why the glass had failed.
The autopsy confirmed that Jabbar Bernie died from a high-altitude fall. Everything pointed to a freak accident—but no one in the room believed that. Especially not the CIA, who were masters at staging "accidents."
Tony didn't beat around the bush. He looked at Owen and said, "Tell everyone your theory."
Owen nodded. "Jabbar Bernie's death looked like an accident, but it was a deliberate killing. The killer is a professional assassin known as 'The Mechanic.' His signature is making deaths look accidental."
"The Mechanic?" Director Mueller asked, skeptical.
Owen nodded again and projected a new image—a bald man. "We reviewed surveillance from the building. Yesterday, this man disguised himself as a prospective tenant and visited the apartment just below the victim's. We also discovered signs that the glass curtain wall of that unit had been tampered with. There's no solid evidence yet, but we strongly suspect this man is The Mechanic."
Mueller lit another cigarette, his brow furrowed. Every target they'd identified was being silenced—someone was clearly trying to cover something up.
"This is bad," Mueller said grimly. "All the suspects we'd locked onto are dead. Clay Boone vanished last night. Heather Ruth's whereabouts are unknown, and we still have no reliable intel on him…"
The room fell silent. Every promising lead had hit a wall. It was obvious to everyone that the key lay within Aselcon Biopharmaceuticals—but Russell Franklin was a major player. They didn't have the evidence or leverage to go after someone that powerful.
After a long pause, Owen asked, frowning, "Russell Franklin is the major shareholder of Aselcon, and Jabbar Bernie was the third-largest. Who's the second-largest shareholder?"
Mueller looked at Paso, who quickly pulled up Aselcon's shareholder chart on his laptop.
"According to our intel, the second-largest shareholder is a 19-year-old girl named Beth Kinney. She's originally from Los Angeles but is currently enrolled at NYU studying art. Records show she has never been involved in Aselcon's operations."
As Paso spoke, Owen's eyes widened. The others noticed and Tony asked, "What is it, Owen?"
Owen double-checked the girl's photo. "If this intel is accurate... I think I know Beth."
"You know her?" Others in the room looked surprised. How would a low-ranking agent like Owen know a wealthy heiress?
Owen couldn't possibly tell them about their kidnapping and near-death experience at the hands of the Doghead Gang, so he kept it simple. "I met her on a train trip with my girlfriend in Europe. We're both from LA, so we got to talking and stayed in touch."
Everyone nodded—it sounded plausible. Owen wasn't worried about them investigating further. Beth had likely already cleaned up the details after returning to the U.S.
Suddenly, another thought hit Owen. If someone was systematically eliminating Aselcon's shareholders and security heads, what about Beth—the second-largest shareholder?
Just as the idea formed, Owen's phone rang. His expression changed. He looked at Tony and Mueller. "It's Beth. She's calling me. We haven't spoken in a long time…"
Speak of the devil. The moment they mentioned her, she called. Tony and Mueller exchanged a look, then Tony nodded.
Owen answered the call. Before he could speak, Beth's voice came through, sounding tense. "Owen? Owen, is that you?"
"It's me, Beth. What's going on?"
Owen immediately picked up on the panic in her voice. She said quickly, "Owen, someone's trying to kill me! They killed my entire security team. Please help me…"
Owen had her on speaker, so everyone in the room heard. Their faces darkened—Beth was clearly another target of whoever was behind the killings.
"Calm down. Tell me what happened, everything in detail."
"This morning, a man broke into my house and started killing everyone. He's terrifying. My security team had 24 people—he killed all of them. My head of security held him off long enough for me to escape through a secret tunnel."
"You're saying… he killed your entire security team by himself?" Owen was stunned.
"Yes, just him. Short hair, about six feet tall. He's incredibly skilled. Owen, I trust only you and Monica. Please help me…"
"Beth, listen to me…"
Owen looked at Tony and Mueller. They exchanged another glance and nodded.
With their approval, Owen spoke into the phone, "Beth, you're in serious danger. One of Aselcon's shareholders and their head of security have both been assassinated. We're investigating the case. You're likely their next target. Where are you now?"
"But why? I've never even been involved in the company's business. Oh—I'm in New York, on Frank Street…"
"No, Beth, don't tell me your exact location. Don't tell anyone. Listen carefully—I'm coming to you, but it'll take about ten hours. After we hang up, ditch your phone and buy a burner—one that's not registered. Don't use any credit cards. Use only cash.
Contact me again ten hours from now. In the meantime, don't reach out to anyone else. Change your appearance. Don't use anything old—no clothes, bags, phones, or your car.
Hide somewhere in public—someplace unexpected. Avoid all cameras. Do nothing until I arrive. Got it?"
"Yes, okay… I'll wait for you."
Beth hung up. Owen knew her personality—strong and independent. If the assassin didn't find her, she could hold out.
"I'll send Harry with you," Mueller offered.
Owen shook his head. "I have to go alone. She only trusts me."
------------------
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