Chapter 506 Psychologist
Jack shook his head, staying quiet. Even though he and George weren't close, they were still father and son. George wouldn't go too far, especially with Charles in the picture. George wouldn't be that heartless.
"George, cut the crap. What's going on? Why'd you bring your mom to a place like this?"
"For the truth." Michael's voice suddenly shifted, and he yanked off his glasses, revealing a sinister grin. "Just like eighteen years ago, what you did to my parents."
Jack's face went pale, and his phone slipped from his hand. "You're Michael?"
Inside the warehouse, Scarlett heard her husband's voice and screamed, "Michael! You're Michael! You're not George!"
But it was too late.
Michael had already pulled out a handgun and pressed it against Jack's lower back. "Let's go inside, Jack. It's time for a family chat."
In the dim warehouse, the spotlight flickered on again, lighting up three pale faces.
Michael tied Jack to a chair next to Scarlett and casually toyed with a scalpel.
"Where's the ledger?" He lightly traced the blade across Jack's wrinkled face. "Where did the company funds go that you transferred back then?"
Jack's breathing quickened. "Michael, you've got it wrong. I had nothing to do with your parents' deaths."
"Liar!" Michael furiously stabbed the scalpel into the armrest. "Scarlett has confessed! Orion has confessed! Now I just want to know," he leaned in close to the old man's ear, "where's the ledger?"
Just then, sirens blared outside the warehouse. A glimmer of hope flashed in Jack's eyes, but Michael grabbed his throat viciously. "You called the cops?"
"It wasn't me," Jack gasped.
The iron door was suddenly kicked open, and a fierce look flashed in Michael's eyes. He quickly released Jack, drew a silenced handgun from his waist, and slipped into the shadows of the warehouse like a ghost.
Blinding spotlights suddenly lit up, and twelve shadows shot into the warehouse like arrows.
They wore matching black combat uniforms, moving silently, with only the golden "Russell" badge on their chests gleaming in the light.
"Dad! Mom!"
A cold voice came from the doorway.
George, wearing custom smart glasses and holding a guide cane, quickly entered, escorted by two guards.
The lenses of his glasses flashed with 3D imaging of the surrounding environment, projecting the entire warehouse structure onto his visual cortex.
"George," Scarlett called weakly, tears blurring her vision. "Be careful, he's here."
George tapped his guide cane on the ground three times, and four guards immediately stepped forward to untie them, while the other eight spread out in a fan shape, sealing all exits.
"Scan the entire area," George ordered softly. "He can't escape that quickly."
Suddenly, a faint sound came from the ventilation duct at the top of the warehouse. George looked up sharply, unable to see but clearly hearing the vent cover trembling.
"Up there!"
Two guards immediately aimed their guns, but a smoke bomb exploded inside the duct.
Thick smoke quickly filled the warehouse, rendering the guards' thermal imaging devices useless.
"Protect Mr. Jack Russell and Mrs. Russell!" the guard captain shouted, and everyone formed a defensive formation.
George stood still, listening to the artificial intelligence's prompt in his earpiece, "Detected abnormal airflow in the northwest corner, probability 87%."
"Northwest!"
Four guards immediately moved to encircle the northwest corner, but just as they were about to close in, one of them, code-named "Shadow Seven," suddenly hesitated, his eyes flickering.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Shadow Seven raised his hand and shot a micro-disruptor from his sleeve, precisely hitting another guard's communication device.
Instantly, a piercing static filled the guards' earpieces, and their communication system went down.
"Damn it! The signal's out!" the guard captain cursed.
Shadow Seven seized the moment to shout softly in Michael's direction, "Go!"
Michael's lips curled into a cold smile, and he slipped away through the side door that Shadow Seven had secretly opened, using the smoke as cover.
When the smoke cleared, the guards searched the entire warehouse but found nothing.
"Mr. George Russell, he's gone," the guard captain reported solemnly.
George frowned, tapping his guide cane lightly, and reviewed the last frame of his smart glasses' recording.
There was indeed a blurry figure in the northwest corner, but the next second, the image was disrupted.
"Check the ventilation ducts," he ordered coldly.
The guards quickly inspected but found the duct walls had been wiped with a special solvent, leaving no fingerprints.
Shadow Seven stood in the corner, discreetly putting away the disruptor in his sleeve, his face showing no signs of guilt.
Three days later, at The Russell Villa.
Joshua handed a cup of hot tea to George, who was standing by the window. "The police searched the entire abandoned factory, but aside from that drop of blood, they found nothing."
George removed his smart glasses, his empty gaze fixed on the distance. "He can't just disappear into thin air."
Joshua hesitated. "There's one more thing. The equipment check report for the guard team came back. The communication system failure was caused by deliberate interference."
George's fingers tightened slightly. "A mole?"
Joshua nodded. "It's highly likely."
George was silent for a moment before speaking. "Have the Twelve Guards shown any unusual behavior lately?"
Joshua was taken aback. "The Twelve Guards? They've never made a mistake."
George sneered. "The more perfect they seem, the more suspicious they are."
In the police interrogation room, the harsh light from the fluorescent lamp shone directly on Scarlett's pale face.
Her trembling fingers clutched a disposable cup, the hot water long since cold.
"Mrs. Russell, are you sure it was Michael Russell who kidnapped you?" Darre asked, flipping through the notes, his brow furrowed.
"It was him!" Scarlett suddenly looked up, her eyes bloodshot. "He injected me with drugs and forced me to talk about what happened eighteen years ago!"
In the adjacent interrogation room, Jack's statement had a subtle discrepancy. "The man who claimed to be Michael Russell wore a mask, and his voice was altered. I can't be 100% sure it was him."
The door to the forensic office opened, and psychological expert Wanda Salazar walked in with the test report.
"Mr. Moore, both Scarlett and Jack's blood tests showed high levels of LSD, a hallucinogen that can distort memory and cause hallucinations."
Darre took the report, deep in thought. "So their statements might not be reliable?"
"Medically speaking, yes," Wanda adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses. "And on the night of the incident, Michael has an alibi."
"What alibi?"
Wanda pulled up a surveillance screenshot on her phone. "From seven to ten that night, he was in my counseling office for a session. My assistant can testify."
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