Chapter 8 - The Cracks in the Mirror
In the quiet darkness of the basement studio, a small red warning light began to flash on the secondary console.
It wasn't an alarm from the biometric monitors, nor was it a drop in video engagement. It was an internal network notification from their automated surveillance grid on the street level.
David snapped his head toward the console. He hit a key, bringing up the street-level camera feed.
Outside The Golden Lotus, the street was dark and slick with rain. Parked across the street under the dripping awning of a closed hardware store was an unmarked black sedan. Its engine was off, but through the rain-streaked windshield, a figure was visible in the driver's seat.
"How long has that vehicle been sitting there?" David asked, his voice tightening slightly.
Arthur walked over to the console, leaning over David’s shoulder to study the monitor. "It arrived twenty minutes ago. Just after we brought Lin Wei down."
"Did you check the plate?"
"Unregistered government transport or a cold private plate," Arthur muttered, his sharp eyes narrowing. "It doesn't match any local police patrol routes."
David clicked through several camera angles, zooming in on the sedan's side mirror. He adjusted the infrared filter, cutting through the darkness and rain.
Inside the car, a middle-aged woman sat behind the wheel. She wore a dark blue rain jacket with the hood pulled down. In her hands, she held a long, high-resolution telephoto camera lens pointed directly at the front entrance of The Golden Lotus.
"She's not a cop," David observed quietly. "A cop would have called for uniformed backup before stopping across the street. She's independent."
"An investigative journalist?" Arthur suggested, a cold thread of tension entering his voice.
"Or an investigator hired by someone's family," David corrected.
He stood up, walking over to a drawer beneath the central desk. He unlocked it with a fingerprint scanner and pulled out a small, sleek black pistol fitted with an integrated suppressor.
"Which asset did she follow?" David asked.
"It has to be Eleanor," Arthur said, looking back at the sleeping woman on the operating table. "Lin Wei hasn't been searched for in three years. But Eleanor... her daughter signed her conservatorship over, but that doesn't mean her daughter stopped feeling guilty."
David racked the slide of the pistol with a sharp, dry clack.
"Go upstairs, Arthur," David instructed softly. "Unlock the alley door. Leave the lights on in the kitchen to make it look like we're doing late-night prep work. Let her come inside."
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"And if she stays outside?"
"She won't," David smiled grimly. "Curiosity is just like pity, Arthur. It always makes people walk into places they shouldn't."
