Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN BLACK
The hallway footage was clear enough to be useful and bad enough to be infuriating.
The killer was tall.
Maybe six feet two.
Black jacket.
Black trousers.
Black gloves.
Black baseball cap.
Face hidden by a dark medical mask.
He carried nothing obvious.
At 9:12:08, he approached Michael’s door.
At 9:12:14, the door opened from inside.
That mattered.
Michael let him in.
No struggle.
No hesitation.
The man stepped inside.
Door shut.
At 9:13:02, smart-lock logs recorded:
INTERIOR MANUAL DEADBOLT ENGAGED.
Then nothing.
Jack replayed the clip twelve times.
Robert watched him.
“You think it’s fake?”
“No.”
“Edited?”
“Maybe.”
Digital forensics checked.
No evidence of deletion in the hallway video.
Continuous timestamps.
No dropped frames.
No file break.
Then Jack noticed something.
The man in black did not look toward the camera.
Not once.
Robert shrugged.
“He knew it was there.”
“Or he’d been here before.”
Michael’s assistant, Laura Chen, gave them names.
Business rivals.
Former employees.
Ex-wife.
Two investors.
One contractor who had threatened him.
Then Jack asked:
“Who would Michael open the door for at nine at night?”
Laura answered:
“Someone he expected.”
“Did he have a meeting?”
“Nothing on his calendar.”
“Private?”
Michael kept private meetings off company systems.
Laura admitted it.
Then:
“He used a paper notebook.”
They searched.
Found no notebook.
Jack frowned.
“Someone took it.”
Robert said:
“Or Michael destroyed it.”
Then the medical examiner called.
The puncture wound was not consistent with a standard kitchen knife.
Narrow.
Deep.
Almost circular.
Entry diameter:
less than half an inch.
No serration.
No slicing.
Jack looked at Robert.
“Stiletto?”
“Maybe.”
Then another detail.
Cause of death was likely cardiac injury.
One precise puncture.
Fast.
The killer knew where to strike.
Or got lucky.
Jack looked again at the hallway footage.
Tall man.
No bag.
No visible weapon.
If the murder weapon was a blade, it was small enough to conceal.
But still missing.
Then the building engineer arrived with a floor plan.
Jack spread it across Michael’s marble kitchen island.
One entrance.
Balcony.
Windows.
Bathrooms.
Bedrooms.
Utility closet.
No second door.
No service corridor.
Robert tapped the plan.
“That’s it.”
Jack stared.
“Officially.”
Robert looked at him.
“Don’t start.”
May you like
Jack smiled.
“Clean plans lie too.”
