"Will he be alright?"
"He is a wanted man."
"He didn't kill Klayton, someone else did."
"I'm sorry Kate Hardy, but the news says otherwise. We're looking at seven years, if the judge will be lenient enough."
"Seven years?"
"That's the best help we can offer you under the circumstances. Our hands are tied."
Victor opened his eyes to a bald man walking out the door with guided steps.
He made to move his hands but it was locked in a silver curl of handcuffs and bound to the hospital bed. Cold steel against tired skin.
Then it dawned on him, he was both a patient and a prisoner. The manhunt of the high profile murder case had finally caught up with him.
Kate Hardy flashed him a smile which didn't hide the traces of worry on her face. By the door sat a uniformed man, his gun sat innocently on his hips and his face was black and emotionless.
"Kate…" Victor croaked, his voice raspy like an old man on drugs.
She glanced at the officer, then back at Victor. "You've got some strange guardian angels."
The officer cleared his throat and held up the letter. "This just came in. A full protection in jail… signed off by Damon Industries."
Victor blinked. Jail!
"High-profiled Anonymous payment. No argument from above. You'll be in custody until trial."
Kate folded her arms, now staring from Victor to the officer, with suspicion. "I tried to ask who Damon was. They told me no one's ever seen him. But they say he's rich, powerful and untouchable. Is he your friend?"
Victor sat up, pulling at the cuffs as the officer finally reached over with the keys. "Let's just say… he's my guardian angel."
A sharp pain flared through his spine. Something inside felt wrong, like his blood was burning from the inside out.
Kate looked at him. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"Well, I'm not dead yet."
This response was drowned by the loud ringing of his phone which the officer handed to him. It held no name or number. Victor answered.
A familiar voice came through the line, cold, sharp and feminine.
"Victor," Isabella's voice dripped with venom. "I wanted to be sure you'll be dead either in there or in jail."
Victor stiffened. Isabella.
"I just thought I should let you know…" She paused. "I had found another way to deal with you."
"What?"
"My cure. The healing I gave you. The touch that healed your cancer, I've undone it. I had warned you, Victor, but you chose her."
"You're kidding." he replied.
"I wish I was?" she whispered. "How does your spine feel right now? Your legs? Your marrow? That's where it starts."
"Of what use will my death be to you?"
"Oh…Victor darling," Her voice was crispy, like wrapped paper. "You'll either be with me or be with your maker."
Victor swallowed hard. It was pointless bargaining with Isabella; she was the type of lady who struck, and struck hard. And with a guttural laughter like maleficent giving a farewell wish, the line went dead.
The cancer had returned and he could feel it in his bones. His breath now came in hollow successions.
He lowered the phone slowly and the door swung open ushering in Lily. "Victor!" she said with surprised energy. "Oh thank God. You're alive."
He forced a breath through clenched teeth. "Barely."
Lily looked between Kate and Victor, sensing the tension. "You look like someone poured acid in your breakfast."
She scoffed and continued. "You need to know something… Senator Greek? The consignment?"
Victor turned to her.
"He escaped."
"What do you mean escaped?"
"Gone. Vanished. Which means… you've lost him."
Victor sank into his seat. The silence pressed in.
Kate was lost in frustration. "Can someone explain to me what is going on!?"
"I'll explain when we get to the bus. But first let's get outta' here!"
She moved but stopped dead when her gaze met the handcuff curled around Victor's wrist.
And just then, Federal Agents in black suits walked in and anchored Victor out as Kate and Lily trailed behind, helplessly.
Several miles away at the estate, the failure of the consignment exchange had hit Lord Hartwell like a wave of tragedy. Senator Greek was missing. The buyer had gone dark, rumors were growing loud everyday.
And Lord Hartwell had discovered Tape's betrayal.
Hartwell's team of security had intercepted a text message and voice notes from Tape to an encrypted number. And from the evidence, he was not who he said he was, he was neither the CEO's son nor anyone of importance. And since he had known so much, it would be foolish to keep him alive. The Hartwell family couldn't afford loose ends.
Also, Tape's confession that he works for Damon — whosoever that was— had further infuriated Lord Hartwell.
And so with the wrath of man, Tape was bundled like a sacrifice into a black Sedan which pulled up at London Bridge above the Thames river.
Tape was dragged out of the car, weak but still conscious. He looked around, groaning through the gag, fighting weakly against the grip of the men.
A figure stepped out from another vehicle; it was Lord Hartwell himself.
He walked toward Tape slowly, hands in his pockets, a look of disappointment more than anger on his face.
"I've always thought you were an asset…but I was wrong," he said coolly. "And you already know too much about me, and I can't allow that."
Tape's eyes burned with defiance.
Hartwell stepped closer, his breath caressing Tape's face. "What you don't understand is that I'll protect my family's name and my empire at all cost. It's nothing personal, anyway."
He stood, gave a nod and Darnell came out from the shadows. Tape's eyes glistened at the sight of the betrayer. Darnell, just like Julius, was playing both ways.
He drew a silenced pistol and BANG.
Tape's body dropped limp, tumbling into the Thames.
And as the water swallowed him whole, Big Ben struck 12:00.
The tape was gone. Dead.