IN THE WAKE OF THE SILENT TYCOON

2

Jaxon was met by Axton as soon as he arrived in the driveway. The broad-shouldered man looked alarmed when he saw his boss.

“Are you all right, sir?” Axton asked.

“Of course I am—if I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. Let’s go.”

Jaxon tossed his car keys to another servant and walked toward the waiting car.

“Forgive me, sir. I didn’t mean to alarm you—I’m just worried because you were unreachable all night,” Axton said.

“What, this is the first time you’ve seen me drink and come home late?”

Jaxon fixed Axton with a sharp look as he slid into the passenger seat. “I was at the bar, as usual. I turned off the GPS.”

“I understand, sir. I’m sorry. It’s just… you haven’t touched alcohol in over three months.”

“Nausea and exhaustion—those are what have haunted me these past few weeks. You know I’ve been taking medicine again; do you think that makes me comfortable? The extension to investigate my parents’ case is almost up. I can’t keep idling.”

He clenched his fists. At twenty-seven, his face was hard with resentment and disappointment. Memories flooded him—the night he was seven, the gunshots and screams that tore through their villa in Sanbergh. A night he could never forget.

Jaxon inhaled sharply to push the memory away, then thought of Callie.

“Hey, I want you to look into someone,” he said.

“May I know the description?” Axton asked.

“Her name’s Callie. She works at PnM bar—oval face, hazel eyes, blonde hair. I want a thorough background check. Something about her seems off.”

Axton nodded, his expression grave. “Understood, sir. I’ll prepare a detailed report as soon as possible.”

The drive to the airport passed in silence, the wipers the only sound cutting through the light rain on the windshield. Jaxon watched the city slide by, the image of Callie and the masked man who picked her up at the bar looping in his mind.

This wasn’t the first time Jaxon had spent a night with a stranger, but Callie had captured his attention. Even up in the air, he could not stop thinking about her—as if the one-track obsession with his parents’ case had room now for someone else.

Sanbergh, 19 July 2024

Jaxon stepped out of his black car and scanned the police headquarters in downtown Sanbergh. Morning light glanced off the tall glass facade, but his focus was on the man waiting in the lobby.

“Sir,” greeted a middle-aged man in a formal suit, offering his hand. “Detective Miller. Good to finally meet you in person.”

“Jaxon,” he replied, shaking the hand briefly. He studied Miller’s face, gauging whether the man could be trusted. “Did you bring something?”

Miller nodded and led him to a small conference room in the corner of the building. Several documents lay spread across the table, and in the center sat an old VHS tape with a handwritten label: ‘Case File – Family’.

“Detective Hudson and I found this in an old archive warehouse, sir. It was just handed over by forensics,” Miller explained, tapping the tape lightly. “It looks old, but the quality is clear enough for analysis.”

Jaxon leaned forward, eyes fixed on the tape. “Who found it?”

“A patrol officer, sir. They uncovered an archive box hidden beneath the wooden floorboards of an old warehouse. There were several files, but this tape is the most interesting—a covert conversation, it seems,” Miller answered.

Jaxon raised an eyebrow. “A covert conversation? What does it say?”

“Discussion about arms and human trafficking. This could point to whoever orchestrated your parents’ murder.”

Jaxon reached for the tape carefully. “Good. Let’s watch it.”

Miller gave a thin smile. “We have the player ready, sir. One more thing—there are other voices on the recording. Identities might be recognizable, but we must be careful. Not everything on tape is clear.”

Jaxon signaled for Miller to be quiet and focus as the tape began to roll. His eyes narrowed, listening intently.

[The recording hissed softly, then a heavy male voice came through.]

Man 1: “The last shipment’s in at the port. Those weapons need to be distributed before the authorities catch wind.”

Man 2: “What about the Hargrove family? They know too much. I warned you.”

Man 1 [coldly]: “Relax. Tonight it will be finished. After that, nothing will stand in the way of the operation.”

[A brief silence; the sound of a chair scraping.]

Man 3: “But… the kid. Are you sure you’ll let him live?”

Man 2: “A seven-year-old won’t remember details. Besides, who would believe him?”

[Low, uneasy laughter, then the slam of a door.]

Man 1: “Enough. Don’t use real names here. From now on, use codes. ‘Master’ will handle the next steps. Make sure you’re at the villa before midnight.”

[A faint child’s sob can be heard, then a quick staccato sound like distant gunfire.]

[The recording hissed again and cut off.]

The tape clicked to a stop and the screen went black. The conference room fell silent; only the tick of the wall clock broke the stillness.

Jaxon sat motionless, jaw clenched, knuckles white on the table. His gaze drifted to the VCR as the night of blood came back—his mother’s screams, the smell of gunpowder, his father’s last look.

“Sir…” Detective Miller’s voice broke the silence, cautious. “Did you… recognize any of the voices?”

Jaxon met Miller’s eyes and shook his head. “If I had, I would have stood up and killed them.”

Miller and Axton exchanged a look at that. Jaxon turned his gaze back to Miller. “Find their names and their traces. Now. I’ll pay three times our original agreement. Don’t let this case be closed without answers.”

Miller bowed his head briefly before looking up. A flicker of conflict passed over his face, but professionalism took over. “Understood, sir. I’ll start tonight. I’ll brief Detective Hudson first.”

Jaxon raised an eyebrow. “If he refuses, will you act on your own?”

The question made Miller swallow hard; he nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I’ll follow your instructions.”

“Good.” Jaxon tapped Miller on the shoulder, his tone softening only slightly but still authoritative. “I’m leaving now. Thanks for what you’ve found.”

Miller packed the tape and documents carefully, wrapping them as if handling something both fragile and dangerous. “I won’t disappoint you, sir,” he said, then escorted Jaxon out of the conference room.

Once the door closed, Axton turned to Jaxon with a serious look. “Are you sure about this, sir?”

Jaxon stared out the window at rain-slick Sanbergh. The image of Callie and the masked man flashed through his mind again, tightening his jaw. Quietly, resolutely, he said, “Yes. And don’t forget your task—give me Callie’s identity as soon as you can.”