Chapter 8 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room at the federal precinct smelled of stale coffee, industrial cleaning fluid, and decades of quiet despair. The walls were a dull, institutional gray, adorned with a single two-way mirror that reflected the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent tube. Marcus sat at the center of the scarred metal table, his wrists still locked in the steel cuffs, which were bolted to a secure ring in the center of the tabletop.
The door clicked open, and two men entered. The lead federal agent from the penthouse, whose name badge read Special Agent Thomas, sat down opposite Marcus, tossing a thick manila folder onto the table. Beside him sat a younger, sharp-eyed prosecutor named Miller, who immediately powered on a small digital audio recorder.
"Let's go over the timeline one more time, Mr. Vance," Agent Thomas said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. "Starting with the morning of October 14, 2018, in Whistler, British Columbia."
Marcus stared at his cuffed hands, his breathing slow and measured. He didn't flinch at the mention of the date. "I have already told you everything I intend to say without legal counsel present."
"Legal counsel isn't going to help you unpack a multi-million-dollar international conspiracy, Marcus," Prosecutor Miller interjected, tapping a finger against the folder. "We have the wire transfer logs, the shell corporation filings, the digital signature verifications, and a signed confession from David Vance himself, delivered to our office less than twenty minutes ago."
Marcus looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. "David confessed? What did he tell you?"
"He told us that you orchestrated the entire Alpine climbing incident," Thomas said flatly. "That you lured him up the ridge, sabotaged his safety harness, and pushed him into the crevasse so you could absorb his share of the tech startup capital. He survived by sheer luck, spent three years in hiding building a case against you, and today he finally reclaimed what was stolen."
Marcus let out a dry, humorless chuckle that echoed hollowly in the small room. "And you believed him? You actually believe David is the victim in this?"
"We believe the forensic accounting, Mr. Vance," Miller said coldly. "The money trail doesn't lie. Four million wired this morning to an account controlled by Elena Vance, acting as David’s legal proxy."
"Elena isn't his proxy," Marcus whispered, leaning back in his chair. "She is his partner. She helped him orchestrate the entire thing from the inside."
Agent Thomas frowned, exchanging a quick glance with Miller. "What are you talking about?"
Before Marcus could answer, the heavy metal door of the interrogation room swung open violently. A junior precinct officer rushed in, breathless and clutching a printed tablet, looking directly at Special Agent Thomas.
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"Sir, you need to see this right now," the officer said, his voice frantic. "The account transfer we tracked to Elena Vance... it just bounced. The money isn't in her account."
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