Chapter 12: The Name on the Tape
The aircraft dropped several hundred feet.
I grabbed the seat in front of me.
Margaret shouted, “Daniel!””
“I've got it!””
He fought the controls.
The engine sputtered.
Then recovered.
The plane leveled.
Everyone breathed again.
Daniel wiped blood from his forehead.
“We're landing.””
“Where?””
“Old military strip.””
Margaret shook her head.
“That's Victor's territory.””
“We don't have a choice.””
The plane descended.
Through the window, I saw a narrow runway surrounded by jungle.
No lights.
No buildings.
Nothing.
We landed hard.
The aircraft bounced twice before stopping.
Daniel killed the engine.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Margaret whispered:
“We're alive.””
I looked at her.
“That's becoming a habit.””
She gave me a tired smile.
We stepped onto the runway.
Daniel checked the aircraft.
“Fuel line was cut.””
“How?””
“Someone had access before we left.””
I looked at Richard.
He wasn't there.
My stomach tightened.
“Richard.””
Daniel shook his head.
“He didn't do this.””
“How do you know?””
“Because if Richard wanted us dead, he wouldn't have left you alive in the river.””
“That doesn't exactly make me trust him.””
“It shouldn't.””
Margaret opened her bag.
“We need shelter.””
I noticed a small building near the runway.
An abandoned control station.
Inside, there was a desk, a radio, and a metal cabinet.
Daniel opened it.
Nothing.
I walked toward the desk.
A cassette recorder sat beneath a layer of dust.
I froze.
Another recording.
My father's handwriting was on the label.
*For Eleanor.*
I picked it up.
Daniel stared at it.
“You should listen.””
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my father's voice.
“Eleanor, if you're hearing this, the people around you have already begun turning against one another.””
I closed my eyes.
His voice continued.
“Your husband will tell you he was forced.””
Richard's voice seemed to echo in my head.
“I was trapped.””
“He was not.””
I opened my eyes.
“He chose.””
Margaret looked down.
My father continued.
“Julian will tell you he wants to protect the company.””
I whispered, “He wanted the company.””
“He does.””
A pause.
“But he doesn't understand who taught him to want it.””
Daniel looked at me.
I felt a chill.
My father continued.
“Eleanor, your son has been receiving instructions from someone for years.””
My heart hammered.
“Someone who knows our family better than anyone.””
The recording crackled.
Then:
“Someone who has been waiting for the right moment to take everything.””
I stopped the tape.
“Who?””
Daniel stared at me.
“Play it.””
I pressed the button again.
My father's voice returned.
“The name is—”
Static swallowed the next words.
I hit rewind.
Again.
The same static.
I tried another section.
Nothing.
Daniel took the recorder.
“It's damaged.””
Margaret shook her head.
“No.””
“What?””
She pointed at the tape.
“The damage is deliberate.””
I looked at her.
“You're saying someone erased the name?””
“Yes.””
I felt my chest tighten.
Then the radio on the desk crackled.
A voice came through.
“Eleanor.””
I froze.
It was Julian.
“Mom, if you can hear me, don't trust Daniel.””
Daniel reached for the radio.
“Julian?””
The voice continued.
“Dad didn't tell you the truth.””
Richard.
Again.
“Margaret didn't either.””
The signal broke.
Then Julian's voice returned.
“There's one person who knows everything.””
I leaned toward the radio.
“Who?””
Static.
Then:
“Your mother.””
I stepped backward.
“My mother is dead.””
Julian's voice became faint.
“No.””
A pause.
“She isn't.””
The radio went silent.
Margaret's face turned white.
I stared at her.
“You knew.””
She didn't answer.
“Margaret.””
Still nothing.
Daniel grabbed her shoulders.
“What does he mean?””
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“I thought she died.””
I felt the world tilt.
“My mother?””
“She disappeared the year your father died.””
“You told me she died.””
“I believed it.””
“Then why did Julian say she's alive?””
Margaret looked at the recorder.
“Because someone has been using her identity.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
She nodded.
“Eleanor, your mother's death certificate was never filed.””
Silence.
I remembered the funeral.
The closed casket.
My father's insistence that nobody open it.
The strange priest I had never seen before.
The documents I had signed without reading because I was twenty-six and devastated.
My father had told me my mother was gone.
I had believed him for forty-six years.
Then my phone rang.
A video call.
No number.
I answered.
The screen showed a dark room.
A woman sat in a chair.
Her hair was silver.
Her face was older.
But the eyes—
I knew those eyes.
I stopped breathing.
“Mom?””
The woman leaned toward the camera.
And smiled.
“Hello, Eleanor.””
Behind her, my grandson was sitting on the floor.
Alive.
Terrified.
Then another figure stepped into the frame.
Richard.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
My husband looked directly into the camera.
And beside him stood the woman I had buried forty-six years ago.
