The train was late. Again.
You lit a cigarette with one hand and checked your watch with the other, pretending not to notice the man watching you from across the platform.
You knew the type. Tall, pinstripe suit a little too clean. Shoes that hadn’t walked far. Eyes that catalogued everything. He walked with the confidence of someone who either owned the train—or had no intention of paying for a ticket.
He approached with a smile sharp enough to cut rope.
“You’re Mitchell, right? From Camden. Your team’s already boarding in Car 5. They told me to flag you down—some mix-up with the routing paperwork.”
You blinked.
He knew your name. Your origin. Your company.
He was even holding a stamped folder with the logo from central dispatch.
Everything looked right.
But it felt wrong.
You’d been briefed for scenarios like this—paperwork swaps, staged urgency, people with too much information and no chain of command.
“Just need your initials here,” he said, flipping open the folder.
You hesitated. Not because of what he said—but because of what he didn’t.
No ID. No badge. No verification code.
And too much convenience.
“I’ll confirm with Car 5,” you said, stepping past him.
His expression didn’t change. He just nodded.
And disappeared.
By the time you made it to Car 5, the team was exactly where they should be. No mix-up. No folder. No trace.
You didn’t just dodge a mistake.
You dodged a con.
Funny how the people who know just enough… always know it too soon.
Because the most dangerous story is the one you want to hear.
This is Part 1 of The Phishing Files—a five-part story series.
🕵️♂️ This investigation is part of The Deductionists—a league of legendary minds exposing the subtle cons, quiet manipulations, and everyday illusions hiding in plain sight.
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