"Who would've thought?" I think out loud as Eliot Kingston coast into the room, fully and lively.

He gives me a tight-lipped smile but he doesn't gloat. "I'm sure you did. Right?" he probes quietly.

"Barely," I confess.

I indeed had a hunch; I wasn't sure, though. I was just exploring possibilities yet it was goddamn right that the mastermind has been Patrick's young son living in his shadows.

"Well... surprise?" Anne pipes in her sass.

None of us respond. We just stare at each other calmly, and contemplatively, gauging each other's collected reactions.

"I'm sure you have questions," Eliot Kingston utters in a quiet voice, looking so different from his peers in every regard.

The way he talks, the way he moves, and even his propriety resembles an old school gentleman residing in a young modern body of average height, shape, and classy fashion sense of blazer and jeans, and sneakers.

"I do. Shall we?" I fling a hand toward the living area; my facial features are hard and flexed from this overwhelming reveal.

It's like I've reached the peak, but only by appearance. The climbing is yet to be done. It's fucking innerving. But we sit, the three of us. Eliot is across from me; he doesn't seem to know where to begin.

"I had to make sure you're on our side before I expose my identity to you," he finally says, quietly. "I didn't know whom to trust. Everyone is looking for something but the double coincidence of want is hard to attain. Cora Mitchell said I could trust you; I'm sure you've had the pleasure of doing business with her?" He smiles again, almost nervously.

I narrow my eyes, studying him to no avail. He seems frail, but mentally tenacious. I knew he was smart, but his intelligence outnumbered my wit now. So even Cora Mitchell worked for him. Not for Derek or his father.

"How did you end up working together, you and her?" I break the ice, talking about Anne who barely fits his conscious choice of ally.

He looks at her briefly and replies, "Means justify the end. It's what I'd call my alliance with Miss Scott. She was my father's lover, as the whole world knows, and he wanted her dead. Then I find out somehow that she worked for my brother, Derek, to screw my father. A complicated tale, of course, involving Mia and the murder case and all the Kingston drama. Well, God bless my dysfunctional family, but hey... we don't choose family, do we?" He's got humor too.

"So, how come she's working for you now?" I demand clarity.

"I gave her a bigger offer, she accepted, shifted sides, and here we are. I can be pretty much persuasive and that's why you're here too Red. No?" He smiles again, and the bastard does know how to play his cards-I give him that.

"And you trust her?"

"Well.." He glances at Anne for a heartbeat and says, "I trust our deal."

"I see." I'm looking at Anne, connecting the chain of transpired events linked to her death. "She makes a good manipulator. I'm sure her skills come in handy."

"I give her that," Eliot remarks.

"Okay, I'm here. You don't all need to be nasty, okay?" Anne barks. "And correction... I didn't work for Derek! He was blackmailing me, forcing me to do his bidding since he saved my life. And well, I had no one else to protect me against Patrick so I accepted to fake my death to protect myself. End of the story!"

It does make sense. I'm not interested, though.

Back to Eliot, I continue, "How did find out about my real identity? You know my real name, and my job, and even offered to give me something ice been searching for. How--"

"I grew up surrounded by criminals, Red," he cuts in rather ferociously. A sudden flex of his demeanor from the sweet mama boy to something else I hardly recognize. "Not your average goons with knives and guns, but well-wrapped crimes capable of breaking the world to pieces. Economic atrocities, biological warfare, and political shenanigans that you know one or two things about. I have a good eye for mystery and intrigue and you were one of them from the very first day I saw you."

How romantic. I'd be in love if he were a chick but all I do is roll my eyes.

"Cut to the chase. You're not a writer, are you?" Not relevant, but I ask.

"Heck, I am," he replies. My eyebrows harden. "What do you think the Ex-File is, Red?" Now he smiles. Excited. Eyed brimming with vigor. "Or better yet...who do you think made it?"

"I don't know," I reply. "You tell me."

Truthfully, I always believed it was a myth. Even when Marlow and the FBI insisted it's collection of deadly information and all stuff a James Bond movie would be thrilled to share, I still found no connection to its existence except people dying for it.

Eliot stands up, suddenly enticed. Anne and I look up at him, equally suspended.

"As a kid, I always waited in the corners, watching everything pass me by," h continues. "At my dad's company, at school, at home-I always observed. It's the only thing I could do. I had no talent. No friends. So I always hid in the shadows, watching, listening, and taking notes. Well, I had my fair share of violence: the bullying, and mostly...my father's nasty temper and hatred for anything different. Oh, I was everything different."

I don't realize the silence frosted in the walls like a cold, winter midnight until Eliot Kingston pauses. Conflicted, I wait. Anne waits too. It sounds like a confession to a therapist, except we're the last people to hug a poor boy we see right now. Not me, and certainly not Anne.

And then we hear, "Don't worry, I'm not a psychopath clinging to brooding childhood memories. I'm just a son trying to rectify all the wrongs his family does behind the scenes. I was sent to Russia for college; my father thought I was too fragile and needed to toughen up. Deep down he knew who I was, and he was scared to be right. I learned to persevere. I became the perfect son he wanted, and my only mission in life became to outdo him in a way he'd never think I would."

I squint tightly, trying to get into his head. I think I can the photo. He's Patrick's downfall. He's the seed of destruction Patrick saw.

"You decided to collect everything you know about him," I say. "You made the Ex-File. The Soviet encryption-how?"

"I'm not a fighter but I'm a strategist. You're an ex-marine; you know that best." He smiles indulgently, sauntering back from the window. "I learned the WW2 cryptology and it was fascinating. What was a better way to write about my father's memoirs but in codes? No one was supposed to read it. No one could. But Lara Cooper-well, she was something else, that nosy woman." He laughs and takes a seat.

Anne's lips are slightly ajar, and my forehead is crinkled to a frown.

"So," she utters, "you and Lara knew each other?"

"She was my ally. She's the one who came up with the Ex-File idea to create chaos and they all bit the bone," Eliot explains. "Yes, I put together some of the sensitive secrets the Kingston Group and its associates have been up to but it wasn't some sort of a file with a pinned flash drive waiting to be stolen."

"What was it?" I ask.

"Chto-to, chto tol'ko ty mozhesh' videt'," he replies in Russian.

(Something only you can see)

His response makes me recline back and take a deep breath. This I'd unexpected, honestly. I'm not sure if I've been chasing pavement but it does sound like child's play.

"What do you want?" I ask him, ignoring Anne's left-out expression marring her face.

"Destroy the Project Z but leave my brother and Kingston Pharmaceutical out of it," he answers. "I can't lose my family's heritage, and to have a clean slate, I ought to plow the dead and stubborn weed."

"So it's a battle for power? In the end...you want what your brother wants, right? The Kingston Empire."

"Kingston empire?" Eliot laughs smoothly. "You're entitled to your opinion, Red. We all have priorities and mine is Kingston pharmaceutical," he replies coolly.

Yes, we do. Mine is my family.

"Why Kingston pharmaceutical?" I ask because it's not the money-making machine among all the businesses they have.

"Let's say," he utters with a pause, "It's the only thing Patrick worked hard for. He wanted to save lives, not destroy them. It's his roots, but he lost its true purpose of it. So I'll live to remind him that more than money and unlimited power... it's family and love that matters. Something he cares so little about. Something he takes for granted." Anger resurfaces in his eyes, and at last, I can tell why he's doing this.

"What do you have in mind?" I go ahead, ready to get this done by any means possible.

I need to end this war. I need to finish my mission and leave Portland for good.

"How about we discuss it somewhere else?" Eliot suggests.

I look at Anne who growls, " Seriously? After everything we've gone through, you want me out of this?"

Eliot shrugs.

Yeah, she's the last person I'd trust too.

_________________

A/N: Okay, Patrick is really in deep shit! Everyone wants to delete him haha. Now let's move forward, no more mysteries...Promise.