The Love Of Money - Episode 309
01-09-25 (04:52)
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. Don't forget to leave a Comment 
