The 1968 Broadcast Tapes: How My Uncle Used an Underground Radio Show to Cover Up Serial Murder
👉 Previous Decision: You arrived here from Chapter 7 after escaping the studio and finding your apartment ransacked.
I met Clara Finch in a dimly lit corner booth of a back-alley bar, the kind where nobody asked questions. My mind was still reeling from the ransacked apartment, the eviction notice. I dropped my canvas bag, still containing the master reels, under the table.
Clara, her usual tenacity undimmed, slid a sheaf of papers across the scarred wood. “You were right to keep those tapes, Julian. And I was right to dig deeper into Sallow.”
“What did you find?” I asked, my voice tight.
“A contact in the Treasury Department owed me a favor,” she explained, tapping the documents. “I had them pull the ledger for your frozen radio account. It wasn’t just your personal savings they were after.”
My eyes scanned the dense columns of numbers. There, clear as day, was a record of the $4,200 drained from my personal account. But below it, a far more staggering sum leaped out: $185,000. It was military funds, specifically marked as disbursements from a Saigon army depot.
“See this?” Clara pointed to a series of routing numbers. “Both your $4,200 and that $185,000 in military payroll were funneled through the exact same private shell account.”
My blood ran cold as I followed her finger. The beneficiary. The name printed in stark black ink. Arthur Albright. My uncle.
“Arthur Albright,” Clara stated, her voice grim. “The sole owner of that shell corporation. The $185,000 from Saigon, the stolen payroll that the murdered auditors were investigating—it all ended up in your uncle’s pocket.”
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The cunning, the ruthlessness. He hadn’t just used Sallow to steal from me; he’d used him to cover his tracks in a far more elaborate scheme. The man who sat at family dinners, who had offered me “guidance” in D.C., was a cold-blooded killer and a war profiteer.
“He drained my accounts,” I murmured, the full weight of the betrayal settling over me. “To make me look like I was a part of it. To silence me.”
Clara nodded, her gaze hardened. “Now we have the paper trail. The undeniable link between Arthur, the stolen funds, and the very motive for the auditors’ deaths. This is big, Julian. Bigger than anyone imagined.”
She folded the papers carefully. “But getting this published will be another battle. Arthur’s reach runs deep.”
➡️ Read CHAPTER 11 to continue the story.
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