Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 39 Collapse Under the Evidence of Guilt

Henry was furious as he looked at the young man sitting comfortably in his office chair. That was his seat, and how could this dirty temporary worker sit there without his permission?

His face turned a deep purplish-red, and he lowered his voice, "You're fired! Don't you want your salary?! Get out of here right now! And how did you even get in?! This is trespassing! I can call security to break your legs and throw you out!"

Green ignored his roar and instead slowly picked up the expensive-looking gold-plated pen from Henry's desk, toying with it between his fingers.

“A fountain pen,” Green began calmly, “is a fascinating invention. It looks exquisite and elegant, a symbol of status and power, just like you, Mr. Manager.”

He paused, his gaze falling on the pen tip. "But its function is writing, is recording. Recording orders, recording transactions, recording... secrets."

He looked up at Henry, "Especially when it's in the hands of someone who likes to 'record' things."

Henry's breath hitched; a sense of foreboding gripped him.

"You, you... what nonsense are you talking about?" His voice was still firm, but his confidence had already waned by half.

“I’m talking about,” Green said, gently placing the pen back on the desk, “the ‘art collection’ in your office, and the ‘private accounts’ in your safe.”

"What art collection? What accounts? I don't know what you're talking about!" Henry retorted, his voice trembling with barely concealed unease. But he was absolutely certain that the room was perfectly safe, and only he and certain important figures knew about it.

Green did not answer immediately, but instead slowly shifted his gaze to the rather large oil painting on one side of the office wall.

It depicts a woman in a languid posture, breastfeeding.

"This painting is beautiful and compassionate," Green said in a low voice, but it seemed to have a deeper meaning.

"The lighting is dim, the furnishings...exquisite. The expressions in those photos are dazed, even somewhat forced...humiliated?" He turned to Henry and sneered, "Tsk, you really know how to play the game—"

Green opened his desk drawer, took out the bottle of "male enhancement" supplement, and threw it directly at Henry. The bottle rolled and came to a stop right at Henry's feet.

"And I noticed that several of the faces seemed to belong to female staff members from different departments of the port authority. Dates, code names, even brief comments... Supervisor, your 'artistic taste' and 'record-keeping habits' are truly impressive."

Henry's face instantly turned from liver red to deathly pale, and cold sweat soaked his back.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, as if someone had choked him. Green not only knew about the secret room, but he even saw its contents! How could this be?! He'd only been there three days; how did he find out?!

"That...that's my personal hobby! It's none of your business!" Henry spat out his rebuttal through gritted teeth, but the trembling in his voice betrayed him.

"Personal hobby?"

Green raised an eyebrow slightly. "When these 'hobbies' involve coercion, control, and become tools for manipulating others and satisfying your own desires, they cease to be hobbies, sir. They become evidence. Evidence that can ruin your reputation and send you to spend the rest of your life in prison."

He paused, giving Henry time to process his fear, before continuing, "Of course, if it were merely some unethical 'collections,' it might not be enough to explain the problem. But coincidentally, in the same place, in your secret room... in that sturdy black safe, I also found another 'record.'"

Green slowly took out the blue-covered ledger from his pocket, but did not open it; he simply let it lie quietly on the table.

"What's recorded here is even more interesting. Would you like to hear it?"

"From deducting a few shillings from dockworkers' compensation for work-related injuries, to charging the 'anchor company' a £150 'expedited processing fee.' From paying 'Golden Bell Orchid' a £20 'special escort service fee,' to paying £500 for the smooth approval of the 'port expansion assessment' report... the items are clear, and the codes are well-defined."

Henry's body began to tremble uncontrollably. He stared intently at the ledger as if he were seeing his own death sentence.

"The real story is yet to come. The records from the past year show that your 'business' has clearly evolved. The targets of your bribery have started to include higher-ups within the Port Authority and even the City Hall. 'Annual consultant gifts,' 'classical artworks' as gifts for 'important clients,' 'monthly information fees' to ensure you're well-informed... especially this one."

Greene pointed to a page in the ledger: "Fast Track" project, £3000 advance payment, £1200 to be used as 'upper-level bribery', distributed to 'DL', 'parliamentary assistant', 'internal audit coordinator'... The accounting is clear, and the amount is not small."

He looked up at the nearly limp Henry: "Mr. Supervisor, you are not only a morally corrupt coercer, but also a daring bribery middleman, a white glove for the dirty deals of certain powerful figures. The photos on the wall are the chains that control the weak, and this ledger..."

He gently patted the cover of the ledger, "It is your death warrant, the one that binds you to the powerful and wealthy, and that you may be abandoned by them at any moment."

"Now, take a guess," Green said, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice.

"If those bigwigs who took the money, those 'parliamentary assistants' and 'internal audit coordinators,' knew that every detail of their payments was so 'dedicated' to being recorded by you, and that this record had fallen into the hands of outsiders... would they thank you for your meticulousness, or would they feel that... you, this 'partner' who knows too much and has not kept the records properly, have become a risk that must be eliminated as soon as possible?"

"No...no..." Henry finally broke down completely. His legs went weak, and he slid from the sofa to his knees on the carpet, tears streaming down his face. His previous arrogance and ferocity vanished, leaving only the most primal fear and will to survive.

"Mr. Maurice...please...spare me...I'll give you everything! My job, my money, my position...I'll give you everything! Just don't tell anyone...don't tell those people...they'll kill me! They really will!"

He crawled a few steps on his knees, trying to grab Green's trouser leg, but was stopped by Green's indifferent gaze.

Green looked at the man at his feet who had completely lost his dignity, without a trace of pity in his eyes.

His calm analysis and the way he gradually revealed the truth had completely shattered Henry's mental defenses.

"Kill you?" Green repeated, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Yes, very likely. So, Director Henry, can we now calmly discuss how to keep these secrets... secrets? Under new, more secure methods of safekeeping, of course."

He sat up straight again, looking down at the limp Henry as if examining a newly acquired, troublesome but necessary item.

"First, let's start with how to 'properly' handle Miss Anaïs's situation. I think she needs a generous 'severance package' and 'compensation for emotional distress,' what do you think, Mr. Supervisor? Of course, you'll need to obtain the lady's consent and a sincere apology."

Henry nodded frantically. At this moment, he dared not object to any of Green's requests.

"Yes! Yes! Miss Anaïs... I will handle it, I will make sure she is satisfied! Compensation, apology, everything will be done as you say!"

He was breathing heavily, his eyes darting around, eager to demonstrate his 'value' and 'sincerity':

"Mr. Morris... no, Mr. Green! That kind of place, the underground warehouse, is too beneath you! I can transfer you out immediately and arrange a leisurely and respectable position for you. How about the clerk's office? Or how about being an administrator in the archives? It's clean and easy there! I can even process your formal employment immediately! It's not difficult for me at all! Really!"

He paused, observing Green's expression, and seeing that the other did not immediately object, lowered his voice:

"And... money! I can give you money! Lots of money! All that's in the ledgers... I can give you a portion! Enough for you to live comfortably and never have to be beholden to anyone again!"

This is Henry's most common tactic. No one is indifferent to money; as long as the other party agrees, he feels at ease.