Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 309

Phillip leaned forward, his hands pressed together as he gestured at Amber. "You know it's the only thing that's kept me alive and my family fed for all these years, right?"

"Mm." Amber adjusted her glasses and said, "I'm aware. However, with Mr. Gerrard's passing, it is no longer a threat to him. Its only value to my company is in its acquisition. Despite the artifact's diminished value to you, Brantwood is willing to double the original financial offer Mr. Gerrard gave you and sponsor efforts to have you exonerated."

That made Castor sit back in his chair, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Amber said. All we would require is your signature for the new contract and information on where the ledger is. Of course, verification would be needed before we could honor the agreement in its entirety."

Phillip brought a finger to his mouth and chewed on it worriedly as he stared at the contract. He looked like a man completely torn. It was understandable; the information he held had been his lifeline for so long that the possibility of giving it up had to seem tantamount to suicide. It was an emotional decision. However, the idea of being free had to be just as tempting. Especially considering the amount of money Brantwood was offering him.

"I can tell you where it is," Phillip finally said, "But it won't do you any good."

Amber folded her hands in front of her. "May I ask why?"

"I have to be there to get it," Phillip said. "It's a Swiss bank."

"I see," Amber said. "And I assume you have the key somewhere safe?"

He nodded and said, "Yes. There's a key card, but that won't be enough. I have to be there in person. They do a retinal and fingerprint scan."

"Unfortunate but not impossible," Amber said, picking up her phone. She opened the browser. "What bank is it?"

Phillip hesitated.

"I understand your need for caution. Please understand that this deal won't be honored without the ledger. Once you're released, you can work with us to retrieve the artifact. However, I need to verify your story to protect my client's interests. If you wish to be a free man with more money than you could ever hope to spend, please sign the forms. They're tabbed and highlighted for your convenience."

With a long sigh, Castor began skimming through the documents. "How do I know you'll keep your end of the deal?"

"As you'll notice, there are two copies. You can keep one and pursue prosecution if you choose. You'll find that this deal is much less clandestine than Mr. Gerrard's and more legally actionable."

Without another word, Castor began filling out the forms. "The ledger's stored in a safe deposit box at Montreaux Heritage Bank. They're in Bern, Switzerland."

Amber started a search for the bank on her phone. "And the key?"

"It's a card, so it's thin. I put it in the lining of a photo of me and my wife in my office."

"And where is the photo now?"

"Still in my office, I assume," Castor said. "I paid to keep it." He provided the address.

"Very good," Amber said as she skimmed through some information about the bank on her phone. "And the box number?"

Philip hesitated, and Amber looked up from her phone when she didn't receive a response.

"I think I'd rather wait until I'm free to give you that information. It's kept me alive for so long," he said.

Amber stared at him for a long moment and decided that she had reached the limits of his ability to trust. She didn't understand why this was going to be the hill he chose to die on. Given enough time, they could determine the identity of the deposit box without his help. Besides, access to the box required two forms of identity that were not easily replicable. Even if he did divulge the exact location, a Swiss bank was notorious for honoring privacy and wouldn't allow just anyone near Castor's box.

"I… understand," Amber said, relatively sure she wouldn't get any more information from the man. She glanced at the sheet he was currently signing and saw he was on one that would require the signature of a notary. "I should sign that before you move on."

Phillip seemed relieved she wasn't pushing for the box number as he handed Amber her pen.

"Thank you," Amber said, giving him a small smile.

Then she promptly buried half of it into the side of Castor's neck as hard as she could. A spray of bright blood spattered across her face and clothes. The man immediately grabbed for his throat, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he pushed away from the table. The sound of the chair scraping across the floor barely covered the ragged gurgle of Phillip Castor's attempts to breathe. Viscous scarlet spilled from his fingers like oil from a punctured drum, thick and warm as it cascaded down his neck and soaked his shirt. Attempting to stand up, his legs failed before he took two steps toward the door, and he collapsed to the ground like a sack of money.

Amber fished a handkerchief from her bag, stood up, pulled her glasses off her face, and began wiping away the crimson droplets clinging to her lenses. She glanced at the dying form on the floor, no more than a blurry shape while cleaning it with the care of someone who'd found a wayward fingerprint. Once done, she continued to ignore the desperate gurgling sounds from Castor as she calmly pulled a shirt and pair of pants out of her bag. They looked exactly like the ones she was wearing.

She glanced at the floor to see a pool of blood slowly creeping toward her and stepped around the side of the table, careful to not get any on her shoes. Men rarely looked at a woman's feet, but one of the officers at the security checkpoint had been a woman, and Amber didn't care to find trouble because of a fashion-conscious woman in law enforcement.

She stripped off her blouse, exposing a pair of breasts held in a plain D-cup bra and a feminine belly—soft and supple. Once she'd slipped on the clean top, she did the same with the pants, sliding khakis stained with droplets of blood over generous hips and a shapely ass, discarding them in favor of the freshly laundered pants.