Chapter 2: Prelude

The silence that followed Wilson's statement was suffocating. James could feel his pulse quicken, the grip on his empty coffee cup tightening as if it might ground him. How in the hell did this man know so much about him? His name, his parents, his address, even what he had done last night.

O'Connor, ever the stoic, didn’t flinch. He leaned back in his chair, the faintest twitch of his jaw the only sign that Wilson's words had unsettled him. But James saw through it. He could feel the undercurrent of tension shift in the room, like the air before a storm.

"That's quite a party trick," O'Connor said, voice calm.

Wilson smiled, the kind of smile that sent a shiver down James' spine. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in everyone involved,"

O'Connor, however, wasn’t about to be rattled. He crossed his arms and leaned forward, staring Wilson down with a steely gaze.

"Cut the theatrics, Wilson. We’re here for your financials, not whatever game you're trying to play."

Wilson’s smile didn’t falter. "Oh, I know exactly why you're here, Agent O'Connor. But your investigation is... quaint. You think you’re hunting a man with hidden assets. But the truth is far different."

O'Connor's jaw clenched. " Oh, and what is the truth exactly?”

Wilson leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering how much to reveal. "You’re asking the wrong question but I suppose now is a fine enough time to start."

He paused, his eyes flicking between James and O'Connor. "First, let's establish the stakes. Detective O'Connor here should be receiving a call in precisely 37 seconds, informing him of two things. Firstly the investigation into me is to be dropped effective immediately. Second, your wife and children are missing. While there’s no conclusive evidence of foul play yet, things... aren’t looking the best. As for Mr. Balfour, if he were to try to contact any immediate family members, I believe he’ll find that not a single one would be able to answer their pho-"

Ring ding-a-ling- Ring ding-a-ling- Ring ding-a-ling

"Oh, 9 Seconds early, my apologies."

O'Connor froze, his eyes narrowing at Wilson as the sound of his phone echoed through the interrogation room. James watched, his throat tightening with a growing sense of dread. O'Connor hesitated for only a moment before pulling the phone from his pocket and glancing at the screen. For the briefest second, James thought O'Connor would ignore the call. But without a word, he answered, keeping his gaze locked on Wilson the entire time.

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"This is O'Connor," he barked into the phone.

James strained to hear the voice on the other end, but the only thing that reached him was the muted murmur of a panicked voice. O'Connor's expression hardened as the seconds ticked by, and James knew something had gone wrong.

Wilson's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with that unsettling, predatory amusement. He sat there, composed and relaxed, as if he were merely a spectator watching the predictable unravelling of events.

O'Connor's knuckles whitened as he gripped the phone. "What do you mean they're missing?" His voice was sharp now, barely restrained anger laced with an emotion James couldn't properly identify but he could feel that the agent’s composure was crumbling, piece by piece.

Wilson hummed softly as the call continued, at some point, the detective had stood up and began pacing like a caged tiger. O'Connor stood still for a moment, his back to both Wilson and James. His broad shoulders rose and fell with shallow breaths, and the barely contained fury in him was palpable. Then, without turning around, he spoke.

" I need to leave the room for a moment." His voice was low, steady—dangerous. "I'll be back."

He didn’t wait for a response. O'Connor stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Wilson let out a slow exhale as he glanced sideways at James, who remained frozen in place.

“Well, Mr. Balfour,” Wilson began, his voice like silk. “It seems our dear Agent O'Connor has more pressing matters to attend to. Shall we continue?”

James swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Wilson’s gaze on him. He wanted to stand up, to leave the room as quickly as O'Connor had, but his legs refused to move. Something in Wilson's presence rooted him to the spot, a mix of fear and morbid curiosity keeping him there.

“What do you want from me?” James finally managed to spit out.

Wilson chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair as though they were just two colleagues having a casual conversation. "Not so fast, James. You wouldn’t want to waste your questions," he said, his tone almost playful. "But since you’ve caught me in such a great mood, I’ll give you this one for free—entertainment."

He leaned forward. " To be more specific. We're going to play a little Game I’ve devised. A rather simple one, actually. All you have to do is find me, and then kill me. Now, that might sound easy with me handcuffed in this interrogation room, but it might surprise you to know I believe this game is far too weighted in my favor. So, I’ve introduced several handicaps to even the odds. Bend the game more in your favor, so to speak."

Wilson paused, watching James carefully. "Right about now, you’re probably wondering why you’d even entertain the idea of playing this old man’s Game. After all, we both know you don’t have any immediate living family, so my earlier comment about them was likely just some off-color joke, right? And you’d be correct—except for two things. First, I know you, James. You’re far too curious for your own good. The chance to figure out what the hell is going on here is too tempting for you to pass up. Second, I’m not just some cheap old man. How could I host a game without any prizes?"

Wilson’s smile widened. "I apologize that I can’t inform you what those prizes entail—it would spoil the ending, and ruining the fun is the last thing I’d want to do.