CODED BETRAYAL

Chapter 2: The Wrong Man

The next morning, Julian arrived at the warehouse with the bank slip folded inside his trouser pocket. He had checked the date enough times to remember it without looking.

March 7.

He was supposed to be thinking about the trainee application Daniel had sent him, but his mind kept returning to the old business account. Someone had tried to change its contact details after three years of inactivity. He still had no idea who had made the request or why.

His phone vibrated as he entered the warehouse.

Daniel had sent him a message.

You keep asking people for help, but whenever something goes wrong, you shut everyone out. You need to stop acting like everybody is against you.

Julian read it twice before putting the phone away. Daniel was not completely wrong, which made the message more irritating.

Near the loading area, he spotted Etim, his former logistics assistant. They had not parted on good terms. Julian had accused him of losing a receipt, and when it turned up in the wrong file, he never apologized.

Etim noticed him approaching.

What do you want?

I owe you an apology. I blamed you before checking properly.

Etim gave him a hard look. You took your time.

I know.

Etim returned to the cartons. Julian almost let the matter drop, but he still had something to ask.

My old business account has a problem. Someone tried to change the contact details around the time my deliveries started going wrong.

Etim froze.

What happened to the business?

Missing orders. Payments that never reached the account. Records that didn't match.

I don't know anything about your bank, Etim said.

You handled dispatch records back then. Do you remember a shipment of eighteen cartons around that period?

Etim checked the office before continuing. A man in a blue shirt stood inside with the shift supervisor. Julian had seen him the previous day but still didn't know his name.

The original record showed your truck had collected them, Etim said quietly. Later, the system showed it left empty.

Where did the cartons go?

I don't know. I asked questions, and the office manager told me to stop making trouble over paperwork.

Julian looked at him in confusion. Why didn't you push it?

Etim looked at him sharply. I needed my job. And after the way you treated me before, don't expect me to risk it for you.

Julian let that go.

Is the original record still there?

There used to be a dispatch book with carbon copies. It was kept near the dispatch office before they changed the system.

The supervisor called Etim back to work.

Etim picked up another carton. Don't tell anyone we spoke. I have no proof of anything.

Julian went back to his station. He spent the next few hours moving stock and checking delivery labels, but the missing shipment kept bothering him. He had once trusted those records without question. Now he couldn't even tell which version was real.

During the afternoon shift change, workers crowded near the sign-out desk. Julian was waiting to clock out when he noticed the supervisor crossing the dispatch room with a ring of keys.

The supervisor stopped at the tall metal cupboard beside the office, unlocked it, and took out a folder. He checked a page, put the folder back, then locked the cupboard before joining the other staff.

It was an ordinary thing to do. The warehouse stored old paperwork there, and the supervisor was responsible for it.

Still, Julian remembered Etim's words about the dispatch book.

As the workers moved toward the exit, Julian noticed a small white label on the cupboard door. Most of the writing had rubbed away, but the words ARCHIVED DISPATCH RECORDS remained visible.

He stood there until someone behind him told him to keep moving.

The records from those years were supposed to be old paperwork, the kind nobody cared about anymore. Yet the cupboard was locked, and the supervisor carried the key.

Julian looked at the dispatch office one last time before leaving. Somewhere behind that locked door was the paper trail he had once trusted.