Estelle Ryan

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The

Valadon Connection

Valuable masterpieces. Counterfeit goods. Extortion.

Dr. Genevieve Lenard is instantly wary when the First Lady of a European nation pleads for her help to find a missing woman. Convinced that her sister has been kidnapped, the First Lady trusts no one—not even her own husband, the President.

With the missing woman's health deteriorating rapidly, Genevieve and her team are racing against the clock. Yet as they delve deeper into the corporate environment surrounding the missing sister, they unravel a web of intrigue and hidden crimes, all strategically orchestrated to sway crucial legislation with devastating consequences.

Can Genevieve uncover the truth behind the sister's disappearance? Will they find the First Lady’s missing sister before it’s too late? Or will powerful enemies, determined to keep their secrets buried, stop Genevieve before she exposes a truth that could shatter the nation's foundations?

The Valadon Connection

A Genevieve Lenard Novel

By Estelle Ryan

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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First published 2025

Copyright © 2025 by Estelle Ryan

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely incidental.

Chapter ONE

“Post-Impressionism emerged in the late nineteenth century as a reaction against the limitations of Impressionism.” Colin smiled at the one hundred and twenty people watching him with rapt attention. Every person in this consulate was dressed in designer outfits, wearing exclusive jewellery and taking dainty bites of the expensive canapés.

Most people had glanced around in slight boredom when Colin had been introduced, but within the first thirty seconds of his presentation, he’d had everyone’s undivided attention. I wasn’t surprised. Colin was not only my romantic partner, but his expert knowledge of art and unique insight made him a true asset to our investigative team. Whenever he spoke about art, he became animated and engaging in a manner that was impossible to ignore.

Colin leaned a bit forward, his nonverbal cues inviting the audience to listen closely. “Impressionism emphasised light, colour and the spontaneous atmosphere of a scene, as we can see in the works of Monet and Renoir. But, as always, there were artists who sought to push the boundaries and express themselves in a method different from what was expected and accepted at that time.”

Most people watched Colin with interest, awe or fascination, but one woman caught my attention. Her micro-expressions revealed fear as she studied Colin. Only once did I catch her glancing at me, but since then, she’d made a concerted effort not to look at me.

I estimated her to be in her early forties. She was wearing a black and gold dress that looked even more sophisticated because of its simple design. Her curly shoulder-length brown hair was elegantly styled, the thin gold chain around her neck adding to the chic simplicity of her outfit. Apart from the brief nonverbal cue of fear that I’d nearly missed, her body language communicated relaxed confidence.

Colin fleetingly made eye contact with her, his smile widening as he looked at the rest of the crowd. “Instead of an entirely different art movement, Post-Impressionism expanded upon its predecessor. The artists wanted to break away from the limitations of Impressionism, which focused less on capturing fleeting moments. They wanted their art to explore deeper emotions, symbolism and personal interpretation.”

He turned to the paintings on the wall behind him. I narrowed my eyes at his micro-expression of discomfort as he pointed at a painting to his left. “Take this amazing work of Suzanne Valadon as an example. This captivating oil painting depicts four nude and semi-nude women in a natural landscape and a nude man watching them.” He paused when there were a few snickers. “We are used to nudity in art, so what makes this painting special? Well, firstly, it includes male and female nudes together. This was extremely daring for that time—1911 to be exact.”

He stepped closer and pointed at the four women on the left of the painting, on what looked like a grassy hill, with large trees surrounding them. “These women seem disconnected from each other.” He pointed at the man to the right of the painting. “He is completely separated from the women, which makes this painting even more significant. It challenges the traditional gender roles and the male gaze. In this painting, the women are not portrayed as objects of desire as so often seen in similar paintings in previous eras. Here, the women are shown as figures within nature. It is also significant because it toppled typical art themes of that era and offered a more ambiguous and complex view of human relationships and nature.”

He turned his full attention back to the people in the large room and smiled. “Post-Impressionism paved the way for modern art movements like Expressionism and Cubism. It moved beyond mere visual presentation to evoke introspection and a heightened sense of reality. It gave us artists like Valadon, Gauguin, Van Gogh and many others that the consulate is so perfectly displaying here for us to enjoy in this private exhibition.”

He smiled at the woman standing to his left. “Thank you for this wonderful exhibition and the opportunity to be here.”

“We are the ones to thank you, Mister Frey.” The Romanian First Lady took a step closer to Colin when the crowd applauded warmly. Milera Popescu was a petite woman in her mid-fifties, her long brown hair fell in soft waves down her back. Her smile lifted her cheeks as she took her time to look around the room. “It is our honour to have every single one of you join us here.” She turned back to Colin, her smile widening. “Thank you again for your fascinating presentation. I’m sure everyone will agree that you made it much easier to understand these paintings and Post-Impressionism.”

The audience applauded again, many people nodding their heads.

Milera Popescu turned back to her guests, then smiled at the woman I’d noticed earlier. “I would like to thank First Lady Victoriya Kostadinova from Bulgaria for joining us tonight. She so kindly organised for the Suzanna Valadon painting to be part of our exhibition.” She clapped her hands twice. “Enough talk. Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening. The tables with the food and refreshments are in the next room. Eat, drink, chat and have a lovely evening.”

After another round of applause, Colin and the First Lady walked into the crowd. I stood to the side, watching as numerous people stopped Colin to chat about his presentation. He had been extremely surprised to receive the invitation to speak at the Romanian consulate tonight, especially since the invitation had come in the form of an order from the President of France himself.

Our team investigated crimes that mostly had strong connections to the art world and we worked directly under the president. In the twelve years we’d worked as a team, we’d not yet received an order like this. Colonel Manfred Millard headed up our team and had been extremely suspicious, yet he’d given Colin no choice but to be ready to give an impressive presentation. Manny had also insisted that I attend. He wanted me to use my expertise in nonverbal communication to figure out why Colin specifically had been asked to be the one to address this exclusive group of individuals.

Once again, I looked at the people milling about as they evaluated everyone around them and decided whom to approach. Most of the interactions were professional, controlled and calculated. The industry leaders, politicians, millionaires and billionaires attending had come mostly for the opportunity to network. They were willing to dig deep into their pockets to pay for this opportunity.

Only when we’d arrived at the Romanian consulate here in Strasbourg had I learned that tonight’s event was a fundraising effort for disadvantaged and disabled children. First Lady Mirela Popescu had proudly presented the organisation she’d taken over when her husband had become president.

She had passionately shared her determination to change the notorious legacy of institutional care in Romania. Too many children were still living in underfunded orphanages or unregulated foster care. Since she’d taken control, much had already changed, and the funds from this event would provide hundreds of children with education opportunities, mental health support and stable living conditions. I applauded her goals.

Colin finished talking to a couple in their late sixties and made his way to me. His expression softened when he saw me watching him. He kissed me gently on my forehead as soon as he reached me. “Still okay?”

I nodded. “It’s easier now that more people are moving to the food in the next room.”

“Should I find some bottled water for you?” Colin looked at the two unopened bottles on the table and smiled. “Okay, maybe not.”

For some reason, my germaphobia was at a heightened level tonight. The thought of the many hands that had touched those bottles and the glasses next to them sent renewed shudders down my spine. “I’m not dehydrated and we’ll be home soon enough.”

“I hope.” Colin leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice. “Did you see anything or anyone that might’ve given you a clue as to why we are here? Has Manny maybe sent you some intel?”

“Mister Frey.” First Lady Mirela Popescu walked towards our table, her smile not as relaxed as before. “Thank you again for coming on such short notice.”

Colin turned to face her and place his hand over his heart. “This was truly my pleasure. I will rudely grab with both hands any excuse to talk about art.”

Her smile softened slightly, but still didn’t reach her eyes. The orbicularis oculi muscles beneath her eyes were contracted with tension. She turned her attention to me. “Doctor Lenard, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you. I attended one of your lectures about seven years ago and it changed my life in the best way possible. It has empowered me to understand people’s communication so much better.”

I nodded once. “If more people understood the subtleties of body language, I believe there would be fewer misunderstandings.” I raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Of course, life would be much easier if we were honest and frank, but that is not how most people communicate.”

She narrowed her eyes, her smile now genuine and relaxed. “I suspect that you are always frank and honest.”

“She is.” Colin returned her smile. “It’s very refreshing to always know where I stand.” He grinned at me. “Figuratively, not physically, love.”

“Hmm.” I’d seen that quip coming and smiled. “I don’t communicate like neurotypicals and it’s sometimes a challenge for me to filter through the many nuances.” I grew serious. “But it is easy for me to see that there is something very distressing on your mind.”

“Not here.” She straightened, a professional smile replacing her genuine expression of unease. “There is someone I would like for you to meet and I think a private setting might be the best.”

Colin took my hand and squeezed lightly. “Lead the way.”

The First Lady nodded in relief and led us away, talking about the kitchen preparations and how proud she was of the renovations, which modernised the kitchen while preserving the atmosphere of this late nineteenth-century building. Even though she didn’t raise her voice, she spoke loudly enough for anyone who overheard to assume she was going to show us the finalised project.

We walked into the silent kitchen and I exhaled in relief. Bright lights showed off a functional kitchen with gleaming steel surfaces, two large gas stoves, a walk-in fridge and every other amenity that would have Vinnie in ecstasy. Not only was Vinnie my best male friend, but he was also the protector of our team and had a passion for cooking that we were all grateful for.

Movement from the back door caught my attention and the woman who’d been looking at Colin with fear walked towards us. First Lady Victoriya Kostadinova was nervous, but the determination on her face made me wonder just how bad this situation was.

“I will get back to my guests.” First Lady Popescu looked at her Bulgarian counterpart with compassion. “I hope you find her, Victoriya.”

First Lady Kostadinova rushed over and hugged the Romanian first lady. “Thank you for doing this, Mirela. Thank you.”

First Lady Popescu tightened her arms around First Lady Kostadinova for a second, then stepped back. “Let me know when you find her.”

“I will.” First Lady Kostadinova watched the other woman leave the kitchen and turned to us. “First of all, please call me Victoriya. Tonight, I’m not the First Lady of anything. I’m a desperate woman needing help.”

“How...” Colin stopped when Victoriya raised both hands, her eyes wide.

“I don’t think we should talk here.” She closed her eyes for a second, fear flashing across her face. “Tell me where and I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

Chapter TWO

“Have you heard anything?” Colin asked the moment Manny was within earshot.

Manny’s lips tightened as he shook his head. “I phoned the president again and he only told me that we should use our discretion. He would like for us to go to Bulgaria, but I think he bloody wants something else.”

“Did you ask him what he wants?”

Manny glared at Colin. “Of course, I did.”

Vinnie joined us, his gaze constantly moving to take in the busy street. “The old man was told to just do his job.” Vinnie grinned. “He didn’t like that.”

Manny grunted. “Something is going on here and I don’t like being in the dark.” He turned to me. “You better have your face-reading glasses on, missy. I don’t want to walk into some kind of bloody mess.”

I blinked a few times, then pressed the tips of both my pinkies hard against my thumbs, but I couldn’t stop myself. “There are no such glasses.”

Colin chuckled and took my hand. “Just do what you do, love. We need to know if this woman is trustworthy.”

“Her fear was genuine.” I suppressed a shudder as I recalled the real terror that had flashed across her face. “We need to know what she’s so afraid of.”

“Then why the bloody hell are we standing out here?” Manny waved around the street. “Where the bloody hell are we?”

We were on Rue des Dentelles, in the heart of Strasbourg’s Petite France. I usually avoided this area because it was often crowded with rowdy tourists. Fortunately, on a Tuesday evening at the beginning of May, there was almost no sign of tourists. The pedestrian street was beautifully illuminated, highlighting its half-timbered houses and quaint cobblestone paths.

Quite a few diners braved the cooler evening temperatures to enjoy their meals outside the numerous restaurants, their soft chatter filling the air. The scent of fine cuisine filled the air and I looked at the Michelin-star restaurant, which was Colin’s favourite. We were on a side street that was blissfully empty. Couples and food enthusiasts strolled by, ignoring this darker alley.

“We’re going in the back door of Yves’ restaurant.” Colin pointed to a door further up the street to our left.

“And who is this Yves?” Manny glared at the door.

Colin rolled his eyes. “You were grunting and groaning while Vin and I talked about his new restaurant.”

“Dude’s right.” Vinnie shrugged. “We talked about it twice and both times you were there doing your grumpy thing.”

“My what?” Manny swung around to glare at Vinnie, who laughed. “Bugger off, all of you. How much longer are we going to stand here?”

As soon as we’d left the consulate, Colin had phoned Yves to find out if his private dining room was available. Then he’d phoned Vinnie and told him to bring Manny and join us as soon as possible.

Colin glanced at the door again. “We’re waiting for Yves to open the door.”

“Then why are we standing so far from the bloody door?” Manny started walking deeper into the street and snapped his fingers. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

“You didn’t even ask once, old man.” Vinnie laughed again when Manny swore, but also made his way to the door.

Colin and I followed. No sooner did we reach the door than it opened.

“Colin! Ooh, you brought Genevieve!” Yves’ bearded cheeks lifted with a genuine smile. He wore a deep purple chef’s jacket with his restaurant’s logo embroidered on the front pocket. His brown hair was in a buzz cut and his black-framed glasses were riding low on his nose.

He was a mediocre artist whose optic nerves had been damaged when he’d suffered a minor stroke. He’d decided to give up his ambitions of becoming a renowned artist and, instead, focus on his other passion—cooking. The first time he’d met me, he’d been devastated that I didn’t want to have a bite of the soufflé he’d just taken out of the oven. His smile was wide and genuine when he looked at me. “I can’t wait to show you the improvements in the kitchen. I know you will love it and feel safe to eat anything and everything I prepare.”

When I’d seen his genuine interest in finding out why I was hesitant to eat food from an unknown kitchen, I’d explained how my neurodiverse mind would only relax once I knew the condition and hygiene of the kitchen, the quality of the ingredients and the hygiene of any human working with the food. He’d loved my feedback and had decided to break down the wall separating the kitchen from the diners and replace it with a glass wall.

“I will come at a later date.” I nodded at him. “Then I might order the soufflé.”

“It’s a date.” He looked at Manny, then focused on Vinnie. “You are Vinnie, the famous chef-friend. Finally, we meet in person.”

Vinnie’s smile lifted his cheeks. “Not a chef, dude. A friend, yes. Good to meet you, Yves. I will also join the party and try your food, including the soufflé. For now, we need to get to that private room of yours before this old man gets any more annoyed with us.”

Manny’s lips tightened, then he exhaled and nodded at Yves. “Thank you for giving us the room at such short notice.”

“Totally my pleasure.” Yves stood aside and waved us in. “I wouldn’t be standing here if Colin hadn’t given me that last push to start this adventure.”

Colin raised one eyebrow in a slight warning, but Yves just smiled. They had signed an agreement that included a clause preventing Yves from revealing that Colin had invested heavily in this venture. In the three times I’d met Yves, he’d made subtle references to his gratitude for Colin’s faith in him.

We walked past him into the back hallway. The charcoal-grey floor tiles were illuminated by trip lights recessed in the skirting boards. A faux-crystal chandelier in the centre of the hallway added to the soft lighting, creating an intimate and very elegant atmosphere. This private entrance to the dining room was a non-negotiable as far as Yves had been concerned. He wanted to have a safe space for people who valued their privacy, whether they were celebrities, politicians or business leaders.

Vinnie led the way to the second door on the left. He’d studied the plans and had given his opinion about improving security for the restaurant. He held the door open and we entered the spacious room. The round table in the centre of the room was set for eight people. The starched beige tablecloth and napkins blended perfectly with the olive-green walls and cream-coloured crockery.

“Can I bring you something to eat or drink?” Yves stood in the doorway, his expression eager.

“For now, just water.” Colin smiled when Yves pouted. “I promise we’ll come for a full dinner very soon.”

“I’m keeping you to that.” Yves glanced towards the front of the restaurant. “I’ll bring your guest when she arrives.”

“Thank you, Yves.” Colin pulled out a chair and waited for me to sit before he took the seat next to me.

Manny waited until the door closed before he sat down. He slumped in the chair. “This better be bloody worth it. I was in the middle of an important meeting.”

Vinnie burst out laughing. “You were watching Moana 2 with Phillip and the kids.”

“It was important.” Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets.

A few months ago, we’d all moved onto the same property. The upper levels of the main house were divided into two sections. Vinnie, his wife, Doctor Roxanne Ferreira and their two adopted children lived in one part. Nikki, the young woman who called herself my sister-daughter-bestie, her emergency response team husband, Pink and their two young children lived in the other part. We shared most of the ground floor—the kitchen, living area and especially the movie room.

Colin and I lived in one of the attached cottages, Manny and Francine, his life partner and my female best friend, in another cottage. The third cottage was occupied by Phillip, the man who’d been the only real father figure in my life. He was also the owner of a high-end insurance company. The final cottage was taken by Daniel and Yasmine. Daniel was the team leader of France’s elite emergency response team, RAID. Doctor Yasmine Abidar worked for Europol, her specialisation in organised crime a true asset to the organisation.

Manny turned to me. “Tell me more about this woman, Doc.”

“There isn’t much to tell. In the short time we spoke, her nonverbal cues were all genuine.” I turned to Colin. “What was wrong with the painting?”

Colin’s eyebrows rose and he smiled at me. “Of course, you saw that.” He sighed. “I’m pretty sure Suzanna Valadon’s Joy of Life is part of a collection in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Why and how Bulgaria could loan this painting to the Romanian consulate for an exhibition is a question I want to ask Victoriya.”

“Is that her name?” Vinnie was still standing, his eyes on the door.

A knock on the door prevented Colin from answering. Immediately, the door opened and Yves smiled at us. “Your guest is here.”

He stood back and Victoriya entered the room, followed by a man. I’d noticed him at the event and had assumed he was one of the guests’ personal security. His alert gaze that took in everything and his body language that was always alert and ready for action had been the same as Vinnie’s, Daniel’s and Pink’s.

Vinnie straightened his spine and took a step closer to put himself between us and this man. “Thank you, Yves.”

The restaurateur’s eyes widened and he took a step back, then closed the door.

Victoriya swallowed as she looked at Manny and Vinnie. “Who are you?” She looked at me. “Why are they here?”

“The same reason he is here.” Vinnie pointed at the other man. This newcomer was the same height as Vinnie and just as muscular. Their nonverbal cues were an exact mirror of the others.

Colin got up, both hands raised in a placating gesture. He took a step past Vinnie and looked at Victoriya. “You asked for our help, which means you know that we work as a team. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you that I asked more of our team to be here when you tell us what you need from us.”

She swallowed again and nodded. “I suppose that you also shouldn’t be surprised that I brought my own protection.” She tilted her head towards the man next to her. “This is Evgeni Traykov. He’s been my friend since childhood. We were neighbours and even then he protected me from the local bullies.”

Colin smiled warmly at Evgeni. “Pleased to meet you.” He stepped back and gestured at the table. “Let’s all sit down and chat.”

“Thank you.” Victoriya patted Evgeni on his shoulder. “This is not easy for me. Evgeni is the only person I trust at the moment.”

“Now even your husband?” Manny asked.

Victoriya’s depressor anguli oris muscles pulled the corners of her mouth down. She shook her head and sat down, leaving one chair open between me and her. She looked at me. “I wish I could say I trust him, but...”

“But what?” I waited. Her internal conflict was almost painful to witness. She wanted to confide, yet fear kept flashing across her face.

Colin leaned forward, his expression gentle. “You took a huge step already just by contacting the people you did to get us here. Tell us how we can help.”

Manny grunted, but didn’t voice any objection to Colin’s willingness to assist this woman.

Victoriya glanced at Evgeni and waited until he sat down next to her.

He sighed and studied Vinnie standing at the door with his arms crossed for a few seconds, then looked at Manny before nodding to Victoriya.

Her chin wobbled for a second before she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She inhaled and held her breath for a long moment. “My sister was kidnapped and I don’t know if or how my husband is involved. I don’t know if I can trust him because I saw him shake the hand of a person who is suspected of many crimes in my country. If I don’t find my sister within the next twenty-two hours, she will die.”

Chapter THREE

“Bloody hellfire.” Manny’s eyebrows shot up.

Vinnie mumbled a swear word, uncrossed his arms and walked over to the table. He sat down next to Manny, compassion softening his gaze.

“That is a lot to unpack.” Colin was taking control of the conversation and I didn’t mind. I trusted him to ask the right questions, giving me the opportunity to observe and process everyone’s nonverbal cues. His expression softened even more. “Let’s start with your sister. Why do you think she was kidnapped?”

“I heard it happen.” Victoriya’s voice broke and she swallowed. “Vera phoned me this afternoon, about three hours before the event at the consulate.”

“Vera is your sister?” Colin asked.

She nodded. “She’s two years younger than me.” Her voice broke and she pressed her lips tightly together. After taking two slow breaths, she nodded. “We’ve always been best friends. I studied architecture, but then decided to specialise in interior design. She studied fashion design, but then decided to start her own fabric weaving company. She’s grown it from one hobby loom in our aunt’s garage to employing over sixty people and buying her own property to build a small factory. I’m so proud of her.”

Again, her voice broke. This time, it took a bit longer for her to compose herself.

“Why are you here in Strasbourg?” Manny asked.

“I’ve been friends with Mirela even before our husbands became presidents. We followed much the same path. Her husband was also mayor of the capital before he was elected, same as my husband.”

My eyebrows rose slightly at the expression of distaste on her face when the word ‘husband’ left her mouth.

She cleared her throat. “When Mirela told me that their consulate here in Strasbourg was going to have a private exhibition to raise funds for disabled and disadvantaged children, I was more than happy to help in any way I can.”

“So you organised for that beautiful painting to be part of the exhibition.” Colin took a moment to school his expression, succeeding mostly in masking his cynicism. “Where did you get the Valadon?”

“It’s from a prominent businessman’s private collection.” Her top lip curled ever so slightly. “He’s a huge supporter of my husband and was delighted to donate this work for such a worthy cause.”

“Hmm.” Colin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I also don’t trust that he’s really such a wonderful businessman. He gives me a bad feeling.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t really care. I used the opportunity to take a short break and enjoy your beautiful city. And I was really enjoying it up until my sister called.”

She pressed her fist against her mouth and blinked a few times. “I was telling her about the quaint little street I was on when she told me something bad was about to happen.”

“Tell us everything she said.” Manny narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “Word for word.”

“She phoned me because she wanted to meet me the moment I landed in Sofia. There was something in her voice that worried me, but she said she was okay. She just wanted to show me something. I could hear she was being evasive and didn’t blame her. I’ve long suspected that my calls are being monitored.”

“By whom?” Colin asked.

She raised both shoulders. “I don’t know and haven’t asked. Vera also believes her calls are intercepted, but we decided not to do anything about it. Not yet.”

“Why not yet?”

“Firstly, because I have nothing to hide. I don’t discuss important business decisions with my clients over the phone. I keep those conversations general and non-specific. My sister is my best friend. My other three friends also know not to share anything important on the phone. We meet often enough in person and whenever I meet with anyone, my phone goes into a bag Evgeni gave me.”

“It blocks all wireless signals and radio frequencies.” Evgeni looked at Vinnie while he explained. “When a device is in that bag, it cannot send or receive any data.”

“Good choice.” Vinnie nodded. “My police buddies also used those pouches. It prevents hacking, location tracking and even access to microphones and cameras.”

“Your sister.” Manny tapped his index finger on his knee. “What did she say when she was taken?”

Victoriya swallowed. “She was asking when I’ll be back when she gasped and told me that two men, all dressed in black, were walking towards her. She said they had bad energy and she had a very bad feeling about them. She couldn’t see their faces because they had masks on and their hoodies were over their heads. One was tall and the other short but very muscular. She threw her phone under a nearby car so I could hear her, but they couldn’t get to the phone. At first, she shouted that they shouldn’t take her, then she shouted that there were three of them and they smelled like Nina.”

“Who’s that?” Vinnie asked.

“My aunt.” Her expression softened. “Our mom left us when we were very young. Nina saw that our dad wasn’t coping and took over most of our care. She’s a tough lady and didn’t tolerate teenage girl drama. She was everything we needed.”

“What did she smell like?” I asked.

Victoriya frowned. “I don’t know what Vera was referring to. Nina smells like... Nina. She doesn’t wear perfume. I don’t connect a specific smell to her, but Vera has always had an extremely strong sense of smell. We can ask Nina when we’re back in Sofia.”

“Did you hear anything else?” Manny asked.

“Yes. Vera told them that they didn’t know who they were messing with. That was when one of them laughed and said he knew exactly who she was. Why else did she think they were taking her? I could barely hear those last words because they were already walking away. I stayed on the call until I could no longer hear my sister screaming my name.”

She covered her face with both hands and sobbed.

Evgeni gently rested his big hand on her shoulder. “Victoriya forgot to say that Vera shouted that she only has enough meds for one day. If we don’t find her within the next twenty-four hours, Vera might go into a coma. Or worse.”

Victoriya took a shaky breath, took a tissue from her handbag and dried her cheeks. “Vera has Addison’s. Do you know what that is?”

“Um...” Vinnie narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t it something about too much adrenaline?”

Victoriya blinked in surprise. “Not quite, but the adrenal glands are indeed the culprit. Addison’s is when these glands don’t produce enough cortisol and sometimes, not enough aldosterone. We need these hormones to manage stress, blood pressure and electrolytes. Like most people with Addison’s, my sister takes replacement hormones. If she stops taking them, her body can’t manage stress or maintain her blood pressure properly.

“She needs to take her meds three times a day and if she misses one dose, she’ll start feeling ill. But if she misses a day’s meds, she’ll experience severe weakness, low blood pressure and nausea. Most people would experience a full-blown Addisonian crisis within seventy-two hours. That leads to a lot of things, including organ failure. It’s a life-threatening emergency.”

“You said ‘most people’.” Colin leaned a bit forward. “What about Vera?”

“Usually, she would have a maximum of forty-eight hours, but add in the stress of being kidnapped?” Her voice rose and tears streamed down her cheeks. “It will accelerate crisis onset because of the increased cortisol demand. Because her body can’t meet this demand naturally, it will lead to rapid deterioration. She has at most twenty-four hours before it might be too late.” She looked at Manny, then at me. “Help me find her. No one is looking for her and she doesn’t have much time.”

“Why aren’t you asking your husband?” Manny raised one eyebrow. “He’s the president of Bulgaria with all the resources at his disposal.”

The micro-expression that flashed across her face shocked me. “Do you suspect that he’s involved in her kidnapping?”

“Not directly.” She looked at Evgeni, then back at me. “Vera has developed an intense hatred towards Galin. That was what she wanted to talk about when I got back to Sofia. She discovered something and I’m worried that it’s something that might kill my sister.”

“Galin is a good leader.” Evgeni looked at Victoriya, anger pulling down the corners of his mouth. “He’s not a good husband.”

“You don’t trust him.” Vinnie’s eyes narrowed when Evgeni nodded. He looked at Victoriya. “Do you think he’s capable of this?”

“I don’t know.” She tightened her fists and crossed her arms, hiding her fists under her arms. “At this moment, I don’t know anything except that my sister is missing and I’m willing to beg you, willing to do anything to get you to help me find her.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “We’ll help.” He lowered his chin, studying her. “There are a few conditions.”

“Anything.”

“Complete honesty. Complete transparency.” He looked at Evgeni, then back at Victoriya. “I don’t care about petty scandals. I only care about the truth.”

“You won’t get away with lies and half-truths in any case.” Vinnie pointed at me. “She’s our human lie detector. She’ll know the moment you’re hiding anything.”

“I know.” Victoriya looked at me. “I know who you are and what your team does. That is why I know I can trust you.”

“Hmm.” Manny slumped lower in the chair. “You must have some theories about your sister’s kidnapping. Who do you think might be behind this?”

“I really don’t know.” She took a shaky breath. “My mind has been running in circles about this. If it were to pressure my husband into some political decision, the kidnappers don’t know my husband very well. He’s not crazy about Vera and wouldn’t change a law or decision or anything for her.”

Her nonverbal cues told me not only that she believed this to be true, but she was deeply hurt by her husband’s attitude toward her sister. “You mentioned a political decision. Is there a specific decision that you’re thinking about?”

“Maybe.” She took a moment to consider her answer. “In two days, Galin is signing a new law that will slow down the process of corporate takeovers and the sale of companies. Any business with a turnover of more than one million Euros per year will go through a few more processes before it can change hands.”

“Why this change?” Colin asked. “It seems cumbersome and I can imagine it is not very popular in the corporate sector.”

“It’s fifty-fifty. Some people are very angry about this change, but only because it will prevent them from more raiding. A lot of the business owners are very happy about this change because it will make corporate raiding more difficult.”

“Corporate raiding?” Vinnie frowned. “What’s that?”

“Usually, corporate raiding is described as buying a large stake in a publicly traded company so that this buyer can gain control and implement changes.” She shook her head. “Not in Bulgaria. Here, it involves the illegal takeover of private businesses.”

Evgeni looked at her when she paused. “Just say it.”

“I’m not proud of it.” She looked at me. “Bulgaria is an amazing country. We are wonderful people.”

“But flawed,” Colin said. “Like everyone else in every other country on this planet. What is unique about corporate raiding in Bulgaria?”

She pressed her lips together as if to stop herself from talking. Then she sighed. “It happens far too often through manipulation of state power and selective prosecution. There are a few very, very rotten apples in the government. These politicians and corrupt officials pressure business owners into transferring assets and threaten business owners with legal action unless they give in to the demands. It destabilises the economy because it undermines property rights, it discourages investment, but the worst is that it breaks public trust in the legal system.”

“And creates the perfect breeding nest for corruption.” Evgeni’s top lip curled.

“Doesn’t that mean your husband is doing a good thing by changing the law?” Vinnie asked.

“You would think so, but the pushback has been bad. Some business leaders strongly oppose this, some politicians are calling for my husband to be impeached purely because of this. It’s been a really tough few months.” She paused for two seconds. “I suppose it really isn’t impossible that someone would do something as horrid as kidnapping my sister to force my husband’s hand, but I just... I can’t see that happening.”

I pointed at her face. “You have another suspicion.”

“Maybe.” She blinked a few times, then sighed. “A few weeks ago, someone tried to strongarm my sister into selling her business.”

“Her fabric factory?” Colin asked.

She nodded. “She doesn’t know who this person is, because she was contacted by lawyers who ambushed her as she parked her car outside her work. They gave her an offer that is far less than her company is worth and when she politely declined, they made very specific threats.”

“They threatened you.” I could see it clearly on her face.

Again, she nodded. “At first, Vera was polite, because she wanted to keep the situation calm and neutral, but that all went out the window when they threatened me. She lost her temper and told them what they could do with their offer.” A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “There are many colourful ways in Bulgarian to tell people to put something where the sun doesn’t shine. Vera used all of them.”

I glanced at Evgeni. Gentle approval and pride filled his face. He liked Vera. “I think it’s possible that this person took Vera to force her to sell her company. This kind of thing has happened before.”

“Bloody hell.” Manny rubbed his hand over his face.

Victoriya turned her full attention to Manny. “Please, Colonel Millard. Let’s not waste any more time. I have a chartered plane waiting to take off. Please come with me tonight. Evgeni and I can have dinner in this restaurant and meet you at the plane in an hour or two. I don’t know if I’m being watched here, but it wouldn’t look suspicious if we’re eating here before we fly home.” She looked at me. “Please, Doctor Lenard. Please come with me tonight. The sooner we start, the faster we can find her. She doesn’t have much time.”

“We’ll do it,” Colin said before Manny or I could respond. “Give us the location of your plane and we’ll be there in an hour and a half.”

“Thank you.” Victoriya’s voice broke and she cleared her throat. She looked at Manny, then at me. “Thank you.”

Chapter FOUR

“What did the president say?” Colin turned in his seat to look at Manny when he ended the call and sighed heavily.

We were in our SUV in front of a hangar, waiting for Victoriya. The last two hours had been rather disconcerting. Maintaining a regular routine helped prevent my mind from going into a hyper-stimulated state. Breaking that routine tonight was costing me a lot more focus to preserve my equilibrium. I was already mentally writing a third Mozart concerto and constantly had to focus on slowing my breathing.

Manny grunted and slumped lower in the backseat. “He’s not telling me the full story and it’s pissing me off.”

“What do you mean?” Vinnie turned to look past Francine, who was sitting between them, at Manny. “What full story?”

“I don’t know.” Manny huffed in annoyance. “And that’s bloody annoying.”

“What did he say?” Colin asked again.

“That Victoriya had phoned President Beaumont’s wife and literally begged her to get the president to make us agree to go to Sofia with her. Of course, the First Lady didn’t agree without first speaking to the president, who only agreed because of reasons he didn’t want to tell me yet.”

“I don’t like this.” Colin turned back to face the front.

“Don’t worry, my little darlings.” Francine rubbed her hands together. “I’ll find out what that wily president is hiding.”

“For the love of the saints.” Manny sighed heavily. “Don’t hack the president again. This time, I swear, I will throw you in jail myself.”

“Honeybuns!” Francine’s exaggerated shock was completely unconvincing. “I thought we agreed not to talk about our fantasies in public.”

Manny’s lips tightened into a thin line and he opened the door. “I’m waiting outside.”

We’d arrived at the airport seven minutes ago in two SUVs. Victoriya had given us the exact location of her chartered plane. It had been surprisingly easy to enter this private airport and drive straight to the hangar. The convenience was lovely, but the lack of security was rather disconcerting.

I watched as Manny stood in front of our SUV, glared at the plane in the brightly lit hangar, then turned to glare at the quiet road leading to us. Daniel got out of the second SUV and joined him. Yasmine was still in the back seat with Roxanne and it looked like they were laughing at something Yasmine had said.

Pink was in the driver’s seat with a huge smile on his face. He wasn’t joining us in Sofia. Neither was Roxanne. They were driving the SUVs back to our joint home. It had been an interesting and short discussion when we’d arrived home to pack for this journey. The moment Yasmine had heard that we were going to Sofia, her micro-expressions had been followed immediately by a nonchalant suggestion that she and Daniel join us. There hadn’t been time to ask Yasmine why she had been so keen on inserting herself into this investigation. I planned to ask her at the first appropriate opportunity.

“What’s your take on this Victoriya?” Francine shuffled closer and leaned between the two front seats.

I leaned back.

Colin smiled at me before turning to Francine. “I think she’s terrified for her sister and I don’t think she was lying to us. I’m sure she hasn’t told us everything, but I don’t think it’s because she was consciously withholding information. We didn’t spend a lot of time in the restaurant to hear everything and ask all our questions.”

“I agree.” I thought back to Victoriya’s nonverbal cues. “She has impressive control over her emotions, but rather in the sense of remaining calm and solid. Not in the sense of hiding her true feelings. Her fear was genuine and she was truthful. I didn’t see any sign of manipulation or any reason to distrust her.”

“Hmm.” Francine pursed her lips and sniffed. “She might be trustworthy, but there’s been quite a bit of worrisome activity in Bulgaria and Romania. Russia has the uncanny ability to find discontented people and turn them into spies. They’ve even used some of the best hackers to design cyberattacks on Western countries. Forgive me for being sceptical, but I’m going to keep my tinfoil hat on for the moment.”

“You’re not wearing a tinfoil...” I huffed in annoyance. “You’re being preposterous again.”

“One of the many reasons you love me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me.

I leaned further away from her.

Colin chuckled and pointed to his left. “Looks like our hostess is here.”

A dark blue luxury sedan stopped next to Daniel’s SUV. The front passenger door opened even before it had come to a complete stop and Evgeni got out. His posture and alert gaze were the same as Daniel’s and his elite emergency response team. He scanned the area and his gaze finally landed on Daniel. For two seconds, the men studied each other with undisguised intensity.

Then Daniel nodded and stepped closer, holding his hand out. Manny turned around and knocked on our SUV’s bonnet, his expression impatient.

“I suppose Millard wants us to join him.” Colin shook his head once, then smiled at me. “Ready for this?”

“No.” I wasn’t mentally prepared to step into a plane that I had no guarantee was cleaned to my satisfaction. I was most definitely not ready for the change in my routine. Our work over the last twelve years, the many cases we had solved and the lives we had saved now served as strong motivation for me to open the passenger door and step out of our SUV.

“Let me make myself very clear.” Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets, glaring at Evgeni, then at Victoriya and back at Evgeni. “We agreed to help, but I expect one hundred per cent honesty from you. Doc will know the moment you even think about lying. That will be the moment we pack our bags, return here”—he looked at Victoriya—“and leave you to find your sister on your own. Am I clear?”

“Absolutely.” Victoriya leaned closer to Manny and nodded numerous times. “I will be completely transparent. I will tell you anything and everything you want to know.”

Evgeni turned to her, disapproval clear on his face.

Victoriya raised one hand towards him as if to wave his concern away and turned her full attention to him. “Who else am I going to trust? You’ve been my friend since childhood and I trust you with my life, but the two of us are not enough to find Vera. The only other person I trust might die in less than twenty hours if we don’t find her. I need these people.” She looked at me. “I will tell you everything.”

“Truth.” I had no doubts about her sincerity. “Remember this moment when or if questions and situations become discomforting.”

“I will.” She looked back at Evgeni. “Trust me, please?”

His lips thinned and he nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“We should go.” Victoriya gestured towards the plane in the hangar. “This airport closes in thirty minutes and the pilot has already phoned me three times.”

It took us less than ten minutes to say our goodbyes to Roxanne and Pink and board the plane. It was a great relief to smell a faint trace of cleaning chemicals as I entered the plane. The galley was situated by the door, the cockpit to the left and the cabin to the right. Colin and I followed Victoriya into the cabin and I was relieved to see the interior. It appeared to be new, the rows of plush white leather seats arranged in a staggered configuration, maximising comfort and privacy.

The neutral colour scheme soothed my mind. The layout was both functional and luxurious, the simplicity making it ideal for any length of journey. Our flight was going to be around two hours.

Colin stowed his backpack under the seat of the second-to-last row and looked at me. “Is this okay for you, love?”

I nodded and smiled when he leaned to the side so I could move past him and take the window seat. “Thank you.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you.” Victoriya pointed at the seat across from mine. Of the twelve seats in the cabin, eight were arranged in two sets of four seats around a table, two facing the front and two looking towards the back of the plane. Victoriya would be facing the back.

I didn’t have to study her expression. Her desperation and fear were clearly on display. I nodded once. “You want to talk.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I welcomed the opportunity to gather more information about her and Vera. The more data I had, the easier it would be for me to make informed decisions.

No sooner had she sat down and buckled in than the pilot announced our imminent departure. Victoriya flexed her fingers impatiently while the pilot explained that there were no flight attendants on this flight and that we were welcome to help ourselves to refreshments in the galley as soon as the safety belt sign was turned off.

The moment the pilot finished wishing us a pleasant flight, she leaned forward. “Ask me anything. What do you need to know about Vera?”

“Tell me about her business.” I wanted her to relax into a more neutral topic first.

Her smile was proud. “Vera started Zlaten Shar eleven years ago. In Bulgarian, the name means ‘Golden Pattern’.” She frowned. “Or ‘design’. Hmm. I like ‘Golden Design’ more. She always had a huge interest in the production of different fabrics for their own uses, how the weaving and thickness of the fabrics differ from upholstery, curtains, dresses, sportswear and so on. At first, she only designed her own line and had another factory weave it.

“The demand for her fabrics quickly grew and after only eighteen months, she decided to open her own small factory. That was over six years ago and she’s grown bigger and better every year. Her fabrics are high-end, which would make one think limits her market, but nothing can be further from the truth. Just last week, she told me that she might have to expand even more to keep up with the orders flooding in. That’s why she would never sell her company to one of these corporate raiding criminals.”

“Good for her.” Francine was sitting in the chair behind Victoriya, but had turned as much as her safety belt would allow to listen. I couldn’t see Manny, but was convinced he was paying close attention.

“I’m very proud of my sister.” Victoriya shifted in her seat to lean her back against the window and spoke a bit louder. “I’ve used her fabrics in many of my designs. Obviously, because I love supporting my sis, but mostly because they are absolutely stunning.”

“So you are still working full-time as an interior designer?” Francine asked. “Doesn’t that interfere with being the First Lady?”

“It does a bit.” Victoriya shrugged, then smiled. “Here’s a fun fact for you. We are about six point seven million people in Bulgaria. Johannesburg in South Africa has six point four million people, Toronto in Canada has almost six and a half million and Madrid in Spain has six point eight million people. Think about it. A whole country has fewer people than one city.”

“And we’re not talking about places like Tokyo with thirty-seven million people or Mexico City with twenty-two and a half million.” Francine’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “That’s just scary. I mean, I love the vibe of the bustling city, but that’s just too much for me.”

“How many people are in Strasbourg?” Victoriya asked.

“The latest figures have it at almost half a million,” Daniel said.

Victoriya straightened, her smile genuine. “We have one point two million people in Sofia. Almost three times the size of Strasbourg.”

“And ten per cent of Paris with almost twelve million people.” Daniel raised one shoulder. “I prefer Strasbourg. It has the feeling of a city, but also of a very, very, very large town.”

Victoriya smiled. “So there are twice as many people in Paris as in our entire country. That is why being the First Lady is not an extremely demanding job. I have plenty of official events that I have to attend and I enjoy most of them.” She scrunched up her nose. “Some of them are dreadfully boring, but important because of the diplomatic relations they maintain.

“When my husband decided to run for president, I told him that I would only give up my career if my position as First Lady really demanded it. And if I really wanted to. Neither of those two things has proven to be true. I love the creativity of interior design. Every house is a completely new project that I have to carefully approach.” She raised both hands. “This is not about me. It’s about Vera.”

“It’s about you, too.” I thought about it some more. “We haven’t yet established the motive behind Vera’s kidnapping. It could be connected to you, your husband, your career or solely your sister. At this moment, we can’t rule anything out.” I paused, recalling her nonverbal cues each time she mentioned her husband. “Why do you dislike your husband so much? Oh, wait.” I pointed at her face. “Contempt. That’s strong. Why?”

“I don’t have proof, but I suspect he’s making deals with criminals.” She looked at Evgeni when he cleared his throat. “I’m not going to hold anything back, Evgeni. I told you from the beginning, I don’t expect you to stay with me for this. You can go home when we land and forget about all of this.”

He was sitting on the other side of the aisle next to Colin. He shook his head and crossed his arms. “I’m staying.”

A soft ping sounded through the cabin and the seatbelt lights went off. Manny got up and stood between Colin and Evgeni, glaring at Victoriya. “What deals?”

“I saw him talking to a man with a shady reputation. They shook hands, and immediately, Galin put something in his trouser pocket. That handshake was some kind of exchange.” Her lips thinned. “Any exchange with that man means there are bribes or something illegal going on. The police chief was also there and he smiled when he saw that exchange.”

“Did you ask your husband about it?”

“No.” She looked down at her fists on her lap. “I’m thinking about a divorce and don’t want to get into any arguments with Galin at the moment.”

“Divorce?” Colin’s voice was gentle. “That’s a big step.”

She nodded. “I’m already talking to a lawyer. I’ve been working on his house for the last two months, which made it convenient to meet with him about a divorce and not set off any alarms. His house is mostly done and he’s given me permission to host you there while we look for Vera. It’s also perfect, because I don’t want anyone to see you with me. If you’re at the house, no one will suspect anything if I’m there.”

“Are you in danger?” Vinnie asked from the seat behind Colin.

“No,” Evgeni said before Victoriya could answer. “I’m protecting her.”

Vinnie studied Evgeni through narrowed eyes and only nodded. I knew my best male friend well. He didn’t yet trust Evgeni.

“Galin doesn’t suspect anything.” Victoriya’s smile was sad. “Apparently, I’m a good actress. The last two months, I haven’t changed anything—not my behaviour, not my routine and not my attitude towards him. He’s also been exactly the same.”

I tilted my head and raised both eyebrows. “You don’t believe that.”

She blinked a few times. “No, I suppose I don’t. I think I’ve convinced him that everything is still the same. He’s been a bit withdrawn for about six months now. Then, after that event where he put that something into his trouser pocket, something changed.” She paused for a few seconds to think about it. “It’s like... oh, I don’t know how to say this. It’s like everything is a bit forced—his laughter, his relaxation, his focus. Nothing feels genuine between us anymore.”

“And that’s why you decided to divorce him?” Colin asked.

She nodded.

“Did you speak to him at all about any of this?” Francine tried to make her question sound gentle, but some of her indignation came through.

Victoriya turned a bit more to look up at Francine, who was now standing next to her seat, facing us. “I’m too scared.”

“Of what?” This time, the gentleness in Francine’s question was genuine.

“The truth.” Victoriya swallowed. “I don’t want to know for sure that the man I married, I loved and trusted, is as crooked and corrupt as the people he swore to weed out. I don’t want to find out that he’s turning a blind eye to the incredible influx of counterfeit goods flooding Bulgaria and entering the EU through our borders. I don’t want to know that he’s taking kickbacks and is getting into bed with these horrid people.” Her chin wobbled and she paused to compose herself. She pulled her shoulders back. “So I decided to be proactive. I’m speaking to this lawyer and he’s helping me get everything ready to file for divorce in a way that will protect me completely.”

I raised my hand, palm out towards Francine when she inhaled to undoubtedly ask more personal questions. “We can go into this more at a later time.” I turned to Victoriya. “Tell us word for word what Vera said when the men took her.”

Victoriya frowned, but answered me immediately. “Like I said before, she was shouting that there were two men, then later a third, they were wearing masks, they had guns—”

“Did she say what kinds of guns?” Vinnie asked.

Victoriya narrowed her eyes. “Machine guns. That’s what she said. They had machine guns. Hmm... she also said their shoes were muddy and they smelled like Nina.”

“Tell us more about that smell.”

She huffed a laugh. “Our aunt would sometimes come from work a bit stinky. She would immediately go shower and put her clothes in the washing machine, but she would also overdo her perfume. Vera and I always teased her about it.”

“What perfume did she use?” Francine asked.

“Guess the most—”

“Chanel No. 5?” Francine interrupted and then laughed when Victoriya nodded. “That’s a timeless classic.”

“That can kill your nostrils if your aunt uses half a bottle at a time.”

“She didn’t!” Francine’s eyes widened in shock.

“Okay, not literally, but sometimes it smelled like it.” She looked at me. “Is that important?”

I had no doubt. “It was important enough for Vera to shout out in a moment of extreme emotional distress, so yes. I would posit that it is important. We just don’t know how or why yet.”

The seatbelt sign came on with a ping, followed by the captain announcing that we were about to experience turbulence. Everyone returned to their seats, the next forty minutes passed mostly in silence as the plane shook and shuddered.

I gripped Colin’s hand and mentally wrote Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 4 in D major.

Chapter FIVE

“This is way past my bedtime.” Vinnie yawned loudly as we walked to the front door. “Kids change a man’s schedule like crazy, dude.” He grinned at Manny. “I’m like the old man now.”

“Hmph.” Manny didn’t even look at Vinnie as he followed Victoriya and Evgeni to the large wooden door.

The rest of our flight had been tense as the pilot had to fight quite strong winds after the turbulence we’d experienced while flying over the many mountains on our way to Sofia. I had to commend the pilot’s skill for a smooth landing, even though I could see the trees bending in the winds as we approached the runway. At that moment, I’d forced myself to focus on all the F-sharps of the first violin in Mozart’s concerto to keep my mind from rushing towards a shutdown.

It had taken a while longer before I’d been calm enough to fully notice my surroundings, at which time we had already been slowing down to turn into this property. I hadn’t seen much of Sofia on our way here.

I looked back at the two luxury sedans that had waited for us at the airport. I’d grown used to most affluent people preferring SUVs, even in European cities where finding parking was always a challenge and space was limited. Most often, an SUV took up so much of the allocated parking space that the door barely opened enough for a person to enter or exit these large vehicles, especially if another SUV was parked next to it.

Both these cars were top of the range, but not as high or wide as SUVs. The BMW Colin, I, Manny and Francine had been in was immaculate inside and out. Colin had been extremely pleased when he realised the car had only driven three hundred kilometres before he’d turned on the engine. A brand-new car.

Victoriya unlocked the front door and immediately stood to the side, allowing Evgeni to enter first. Even though his body language was alert, he didn’t appear concerned. Victoriya followed him, her posture giving away her exhaustion.

We walked into the entrance and I looked around. The bit of the garden and the exterior of the house I had seen hadn’t prepared me for the refined elegance awaiting us. The foyer’s soaring ceiling boasted a custom-designed chandelier that was casting a soft, golden glow across the gleaming marble floors. A statement console table of dark walnut and brushed brass stood against the side wall, a sculpted vase holding a fresh bouquet of roses. Above the table was a framed mirror that reflected the warm light of the chandelier and strategically placed wall sconces.

“Colour me impressed.” Francine turned around in one place and nodded in approval. “That girl...uh, First Lady knows how to make a place look classy.”

I agreed. The meticulous attention to detail in the foyer alone made me curious to see what she had done with the rest of this three-story residence.

“What... Who?” The fear in Victoriya’s voice sent a rush of adrenaline through my body. I froze and, for a moment, forgot to breathe.

“Hiya!” A strange male voice came from deeper in the house. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Vinnie and Daniel rushed to the open-plan living area, their hands on their holstered weapons. Colin took my hand. “Breathe, love.”

I gasped and let out a heavy breath. Then I focused my gaze on the backs of Vinnie and Daniel. Vinnie had both hands on his hips and Daniel shook his head.

“Clear,” Daniel said over his shoulder, yet not taking his eyes off the person still out of our sight.

I inhaled deeply and nodded to Colin. We walked into the living area that was styled in a palette of warm neutrals with deep charcoal accents. A plush, low-profile sectional sofa was complemented by velvet accent chairs in a rich, moody forest green. Herringbone oak flooring added a natural and welcoming warmth, the hand-knotted rugs in muted tones bringing it all together.

Beyond the living area, the dining room and kitchen seamlessly blended sophistication with functionality. A ten-seat dining table made of smoked oak sat beneath a minimalist linear pendant light with hand-blown glass orbs. Sitting at the table was a man in his early forties, smiling warmly at Victoriya.

She was livid as she turned to Evgeni. “How could you?”

He raised one eyebrow and glanced towards us. “How could you trust these strangers?”

“Oh, Evgeni.” Her shoulders sagged. “How many more times must I tell you that there is no one else I can trust?” She looked at the stranger, the contrition on her face real. “No offence, Yordan.”

“Pah!” The stranger’s glare was exaggerated, but not completely false. “Offence taken.”

“Why don’t you introduce us?” Daniel took a step towards the table and look at the man who appeared to be wearing make-up. “I’m Daniel.”

“Lieutenant Cassel.” The man’s smile was wide and genuine. “I’m Yordan Shishkov.” He turned his smile to Evgeni who didn’t return the friendliness. “This one’s better-looking cousin.”

Victoriya pulled out a chair and sat down. She stared at Yordan for two seconds, then looked at Evgeni again. The betrayal on her face was real. “Why did you include him?”

“Because I trust him.” Evgeni leaned a bit closer to her. “And I trust you. Now I need you to trust me, too.”

“I do.” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. She looked at Yordan. “Please don’t break my heart.”

“I won’t.” He got up and sat down on the chair next to her. He took her hand in both his. “You’ve known me as long as you’ve known Evgeni. You know how I’ve suffered because I like my hair big, my lashes long and my nails painted. You also know how much I love Vera. I will do everything I can to help you find her and bring her home. I don’t care about presidents, first ladies, laws and anything else. I just want to help.”

A tear ran down Victoriya’s cheek and she nodded. “I’m sorry if I made you feel... less.”

“You didn’t.” He reached up and wiped the tear from her cheek. “I know you’re scared. I am, too. Together, we’re going to find your sis. Okay?”

Victoriya sniffed and nodded. “Thank you, Yordan.”

“Always.” His tender smile was that of someone who held a deep affection for the other person. He turned to us, his smile genuine but also a bit guarded. He looked at Manny. “You didn’t hear anything about my disregard of the law, did you?”

Manny just lowered his chin and glared at Yordan.

He let go of Victoriya’s hands and waved both his hands in the air. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here, you’re here.” He turned to Francine. “And you! Girl! You and I are going to par-tay.”

Francine laughed. “If that means we’re about to paint the cyber world red, I’m in.”

“Bloody hellfire.” Manny now glared at both of them. “We are not in this country in any official capacity. For the love of all that is holy, try to stay within the confines of the law.” He grunted when Francine and Yordan’s faces held the same disgusted expressions. “If you leave as much as a microscopic breadcrumb that can be traced back to us, I will personally drop you off at the police station.”

Francine shook her head in faux disappointment as she looked at Yordan. “He always underestimates my genius. As if I ever leave any trace when I snoop. Gah.”

Yordan’s grin widened before he turned to me. “Doctor Lenard, I must admit I find you very intimidating and I’m hysterically happy to meet you.”

“You don’t appear hysterical.”

“On the inside.” He nodded sagely. “I promise. On the inside, I’m fanboying like a Swiftie meeting Taylor in person.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand...”

“He’s very excited to meet you.” Colin squeezed my hand. “Seems like you know a lot about us, Yordan.”

“Oh, I did my homework when Evgeni told me you guys were coming.” Yordan’s nonverbal cues communicated nothing but sincerity. And mischief as he smiled at Colin. “The infamous Colin Frey. I have so many questions for you.”

Evgeni cleared his throat loudly and Yordan rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, fine. Go get your beauty sleep.” He pointed at his face. “I obviously don’t need any such banalities, so I’m going to continue trying to find anything and everything that can bring our Vera home.”

Manny turned to me. “Doc?”

I wasn’t surprised by his question or his familiar nonverbal cues. I nodded. “He was being truthful.”

Manny glared at Yordan. “But can we trust you?”

“Yes.” Yordan grew serious and turned to me, his expression open. “Yes.”

I smiled softly at the eagerness and complete honesty on his face. “I believe you.”

“Oh, my heart.” He tilted his head and uttered a dramatic sigh. “I think I’m in love.”

“Another one who loves dramatics?” Manny’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, joy.”

“That means he likes you.” Francine winked at Yordan, then looked pointedly at the three laptops on the dining room table. “I’m going to catch a few hours’ of that beauty sleep you don’t need, then I’ll join you.”

“Can’t wait.” Yordan’s micro-expressions told me that he truly couldn’t wait to be working with Francine.

Manny grunted and turned to Victoriya. “If you could show us to our rooms?”

Chapter SIX

“Wow.” Colin touched the sheer linen curtains in the en suite bathroom in our bedroom. “This is gorgeous.”

I agreed. This room was an example of sheer indulgence. The freestanding tub sat on marble floors and the walls were painted a deep forest green. The picture window next to the tub looked out over the garden, which would be an undoubtedly beautiful view in the light of day. A walk-in shower with floor-to-ceiling glass, fortunately, didn’t have rainfall heads. I hated water falling on me from above. I preferred it at an angle, which this shower had. I was going to enjoy using this room that still had a faint whiff of fresh paint.

“I approve.” Colin walked to the white oak double vanity and tapped with his index finger on the integrated stone sinks. He turned to look at me. “Do you think—”

“No.” My lips tightened when he smiled at me. “We are not changing our home. Everything is perfect.”

Colin and I had spent many days discussing the changes we’d wanted to our cottage. It had been a trying time for me, especially when the work had been done. The dust it had created still haunted me.

“What the bloody hell are you two doing in there?” Manny stood in the doorway and glared at us. “We are waiting.”

“Who?” I took a step back. “Why?”

“Just get in here, missy.”

“I told you to leave them be.” Francine’s voice drifted in from our bedroom. “They’re just looking at their luxurious bathroom.”

We’d been given the primary bedroom, and like the bathroom, it was designed to evoke calm and comfort. I’d been especially pleased with the cream-coloured bedding. That colour was not kind to pet owners—it showed every speck of dirt and every hair. However, it gave me peace of mind because I’d had a very close look, and it was immaculate. It smelled of fabric softener, as if the bedding had been washed a few hours prior.

Colin looked at me and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I suppose we don’t have a choice.”

“Or privacy.” I raised one eyebrow as I looked at the empty doorway.

Colin held out his hand and I took it as we walked back into our bedroom. The wide-plank hardwood floors were softened by an oversized Moroccan wool rug in ivory and soft taupe. The large bed, with its bleached wood headboard, was flanked by minimalist nightstands, each with an asymmetrical ceramic lamp casting a warm, ambient light.

A sitting area was arranged in front of the tall windows. Manny and Francine were sitting on the sofa, Yasmine was sitting on Daniel’s lap in one of the two deep armchairs covered in a muted clay-coloured velvet, and Vinnie was leaning against the wall close to the window. Full-length curtains in soft grey hung in gentle pleats, blocking our view from the garden. When Colin and I went to inspect the bathroom, the curtains hadn't been drawn and our bedroom door had still been open. The door was now closed.

“Nice digs, right?” Vinnie looked around our room. “Bigger than mine, but man, Rox is going to be very jealous when I video-call her later.”

“Why are you in my room?” I stopped next to the unoccupied armchair and crossed my arms. “I’m tired.”

“We all are, missy.” Manny sighed. “But we need to get a few things straight before we start down this path.”

I studied his expression and sat down, barely registering when Colin sat down on the wide arm of the chair. “You are concerned.”

“Bloody right I am.” He looked at Yasmine. “Tell them.”

She smiled at his abruptness. “We’ve been having a few issues with Bulgaria for... hmm.. about six months now.”

“We?” Colin asked. “Europol?”

She nodded. “We don’t have an office here. Like all the other countries, Bulgaria has a Europol National Unit based in Sofia. The ENU is staffed by Bulgarian law enforcement officers. They’re not Europol agents and their role is to act as the official liaison between Bulgarian authorities and Europol.”

“How many people are in the ENU here?” Daniel asked.

“Eight.” Yasmine glanced at Daniel, then looked back at us. “It’s not a large unit, but there are more than enough pressing criminal issues to look into. Our issue with this ENU started when they slowed down the flow of information. Until a few months ago, we had no problem with them facilitating cooperation with the local authorities and exchanging intelligence on serious international crimes.”

“Such as?” Colin asked.

Yasmine raised her hand and counted on her fingers. “Organised crime networks, corruption, human trafficking, drug trafficking, financial crimes, cybercrimes and so on.”

“Oh, so they’re not unique.” Vinnie snorted a humourless laugh. “That’s the list for most countries.”

“Not quite.” Yasmine wrinkled her nose. “Not many countries have so many high-profile contract killings and corruption at the top of the food chain.”

Daniel scratched his chin. “The trafficking makes sense, though. Turkey is on Bulgaria’s east and most of the bad stuff coming from that part of the world usually makes its way through Turkey, which makes Bulgaria the perfect gateway to Europe.”

“We’ve tracked almost all of the heroin in Europe to farms in Afghanistan, so you’re right.” Yasmine smiled at Daniel. “It’s the route they use. We confiscated a shipment a few months ago and traced it back to a transport hub here in Bulgaria. The ENU here was very slow to cooperate. Since then, it’s been as if they’re working in slow motion. They’re not not cooperating. They’re just taking a shockingly long time to get back to us.”

“Where is this ENU located?” Colin asked.

“They are a specialised unit within the Ministry of Interior here in Sofia.” She shifted on Daniel’s lap. “Just last week, we had a meeting to discuss how we could address this. Something feels off and none of us know why. One of my colleagues has a local contact, but even he has gone dark. That’s why I’m here. When I told my boss about the opportunity to join you guys under the guise of looking for Vera, he was very pleased.” She laughed softly. “And not pleased. He’s worried about my safety.”

“Wait.” Vinnie straightened from the wall. “Isn’t Bulgaria one of the safest countries in the EU?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Yasmine said. “In the whole of 2024, there were only fifty-eight premeditated murders in Bulgaria. Want to guess how many were reported in France in 2024?”

“Five hundred?” Vinnie raised both shoulders.

“One thousand one hundred and eleven.” Yasmine smiled when Vinnie swore. “A huge difference. France’s homicide rate and violent crimes are much higher even by European standards. The most common crime here is theft. And even that is among the lowest rates in the EU—about five hundred police-recorded offences per one hundred thousand inhabitants. Most other EU countries have rates several times higher.”

I pointed at her face. “Yet you are concerned.”

“I have a weird feeling about the change in communication with the ENU.” She wrinkled her nose again. “I know you call it instinct and experience, but I swear my gut is talking to me and it’s telling me something is not right here.”

“Then we’d better be bloody careful.” Manny looked at Francine, then looked pointedly at the open laptop resting on her thighs. “So? What can you tell us?”

“About that new computer you keep telling me I don’t need?”

“Francine.” His lips thinned.

“Oh, pah.” She sniffed. “I’ll buy it when we get back. For now, I’ll tell you about President Galin Kostadinov. He’s forty-nine and quite good-looking if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.” Manny slumped lower on the sofa. “For the love of the saints, it’s late. Keep it short and keep to relevant information only.”

“Fine.” She turned her laptop to show us her monitor. The man on the screen was indeed attractive. His dark hair was short and his sideburns a bit longer than what was currently fashionable. He had dimples in his clean-shaven cheeks as well as a cleft chin, most commonly referred to as a chin dimple. He was looking straight at the camera and his expression communicated resolve.

Francine turned the laptop back. “Galin Kostadinov graduated at the top of his class in school and served in the military for two years before he went to university to study law. There, he also graduated at the top. A very clever man.”

“Was military service compulsory?” Daniel asked. “Is it still?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Francine tapped on her laptop for a few seconds, then narrowed her eyes. “It was compulsory until 2007. Huh. The length of military service depended on education. For those without a higher degree, it was nine months and for those with a degree, only six months.”

“Yet, the president served for two years.” Daniel shrugged. “Could mean something or nothing.”

“Whatever the reason, as soon as he graduated, he got a job in a really good legal firm and by the time he was thirty-four, he was already the mayor of one of the smaller towns bordering Sofia.” Francine scrolled on her laptop screen. “Then he moved to Sofia and ran for mayor. That was when he met Victoriya. They married a year after he became mayor. He stayed in this office for a few years before he ran for president.” She frowned. “He was extremely outspoken against the corruption that plagued the country.”

“Political corruption in post-communist countries is sadly very common,” Yasmin added. “It’s deeply rooted in that legacy, where decades of single-party rule fostered a system of centralised power, lack of transparency and suppression of civil society. It’s a breeding ground for the abuse of authority and entrenched networks of patronage. Most countries struggled after the fall of communism. These undemocratic structures, relationships and way of thinking persisted. It enabled high-level politicians and other officials to maintain connections with organised crime and the grey economy.”

“Do you think that’s what’s going on here?” Vinnie asked. “This dude is in bed with the local mafia?”

“I really don’t know.” Yasmine looked at him. “That’s why I’m here. Hopefully, I’ll be able to figure out if someone in power is stonewalling Europol.”

“It would be really disappointing if this pretty man is corrupt.” Francine looked up from her laptop. “I’ve been reading more and he talked a lot about breaking Bulgaria out of the grip of corruption. He didn’t want his country to be ranked among the most corrupt EU member states anymore.”

“Why are you using the past tense?” I asked.

“Because he hasn’t said anything about fighting corruption for at least five months. At least not in anything that has been reported on the internet.” She sighed. “I looked into his family earlier. They are all squeaky clean. Parents, brother, uncles, aunts, everyone. I’ll keep looking, but I don’t want to find anything.”

“Do they have kids?” Daniel asked. “The president and Victoriya?”

“No.” Francine shook her head. “Victoriya has been open about her infertility and their journey to accept that they won’t have children.”

“They could always adopt.” Vinnie pushed out his chest. “Best decision of my life.”

“Doc.” Manny narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. “Are you sure about Yoda?”

“Who?” My question was barely audible above the laughter that exploded in the room.

Vinnie slapped his knee as he guffawed. “A wookie mistake you made!”

Daniel grinned. “Regret it, you already do.”

Francine laughed. “The path to wisdom, paved with oopsies it is.”

My confusion grew, even though it was hard not to be affected by all the laughter.

“Millard was talking about Yordan, love,” Colin said through his chuckles, then looked at Manny. “May the giggles be with you.”

I thought about my answer, giving everyone else more time to tease Manny and speak in oddly arranged sentences, while he swore a few times and tried his best not to smile.

“For the love of all that is holy.” Manny paused. “Cease you must.”

Again, laughter bounced off the walls in my bedroom. This time, Manny chuckled along. Finally, he looked at me. “Doc? Answer you have?”

“Yes, but I’m more concerned about everyone’s state of mind at the moment.” I looked around the room. “Did you eat or drink something... oh...” My shoulders dropped. “This is a joke I don’t understand, correct?”

“Frey can explain later.” Manny cleared his throat. “Are you sure we can trust... the cousin?”

“Yordan? I’m sure that he was being truthful. I can’t guarantee that he’s trustworthy.”

All levity left Manny’s face. “I suppose that will have to do for now.”

“Um.” Francine raised her finger as if she were in a classroom, asking for the teacher’s attention. “I have a suggestion.”

When she didn’t continue, Manny sighed heavily and waved his hand impatiently. “Pray, do tell.”

“We need a safe word. Just in case things become iffy... well, more iffy than it already is.”

“Not a bad idea.” Yasmine nodded. “Any suggestions for a safe word?”

Manny held up his hand before Francine could reply. “No. Whatever you were going to suggest, no.” He paused. “Let’s keep it simple. ‘Christmas’ will be the safe word.”

“Honeybuns, that is dreadfully boring.” Francine pouted. “Please, please, please make the safe word, ‘Yoda’. Pretty please?”

“For the love of the saints.” He sighed heavily. “Fine. ‘Yoda’ it is.” He looked at us one by one. “We’re on our own here and only have each other. If you have any doubt about your safety, you say that silly name.” He got up. “Alright, you lot. Time to get some sleep.”

“Tired I am.” Vinnie’s attempt to maintain a serious expression failed. “Sleep I must.”

This elicited more chuckles and smiles. Even Manny’s lips twitched with another smile despite his scowl aimed at Vinnie. “Don’t spend the whole night thinking up more one-liners, big guy. We all need to be rested when we meet downstairs in a few hours. Vera doesn’t have much time left.”

Chapter SEVEN

“Doctor Lenard.” Yordan was where we left him last night. He stretched his neck and smiled at me. “I hope you slept well.”

Colin and I walked deeper into the living area and I nodded. “I did.”

“The bed is wonderful.” Colin walked to the large dining table. “Have you been working the whole night?”

“Hmm.” This time, Yordan stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “I’m ready for a nap, though.”

“After breakfast,” Vinnie said as he joined us. “This kitchen better have a kick-ass coffee machine.”

“It does.” Yordan pointed to the gleaming chrome appliance on the black granite countertop. “I’m a total coffee snob, so I brought coffee beans. It’s for all of us, so use freely.”

“Thanks, dude.” Vinnie made his way to the large kitchen. “I’ll get coffee going for all of us.”

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors to look at the tiled patio leading to the garden. Bulky weatherproof outdoor furniture was arranged in an intimate seating area on the left, and oversized lounge chairs surrounded a fire pit on the right. The garden had clearly only recently been landscaped, but as soon as all the plants settle during the summer, it will turn into an oasis of tranquillity. This property was stunning.

“Coffee, Jen-girl.” Vinnie’s slightly raised voice made me turn around. He smiled at me. “Morning it is. Coffee I made.”

I was tempted to roll my eyes like Nikki always did. Colin had explained this strange form of speaking to me last night. Apparently, it was extremely popular amongst fans of a science fiction franchise I knew quite well. I just hadn’t made the connection to their humour last night.

I joined Colin at the table and took a seat furthest from the chaos surrounding Yordan. No sooner had I sat down than Daniel, Yasmine, Francine and Manny walked in as well and joined us at the table.

“Did you work the whole night?” Francine sat down next to Yordan. “You must be exhausted.”

“A bit.” Yordan raised one shoulder in an attempt to appear blasé. He twisted the engraved vintage silver ring on his index finger. “This is not the first all-nighter I’ve pulled, but I was in my thirties then. Apparently, my body has come to a screeching halt when I turned forty last year.”

Francine laughed. “You don’t look a day older than thirty-one, Yordan.”

He slapped both hands over his chest. “I’m in love. Marry me.”

She laughed again. “I’m already taken, but I don’t mind more love.”

“Hmph.” Manny sat down across from Yordan and glared at him. “Did you pretend to work throughout the night, or did you find something useful?”

Yordan blinked in surprise, then smiled at Manny. “Scared I’m going to steal her away from you?”

Manny’s glare intensified and he slumped in the chair when Vinnie chuckled.

Francine slapped Yordan lightly on his shoulder. “Don’t annoy him before he’s had his tea.” She turned to look more closely at Yordan. “I also did a bit of digging on you.”

“Ooh, what did you find?” His genuine excitement surprised me. “I’ve been very careful to only make specific info about me available.”

“I noticed.” Francine’s smile was smug. “It wasn’t too hard to peel away the layers and dig up the real dirt.”

“Dirt?” He bounced in his seat, his eyes wide with anticipation. “What did you find?”

She pulled her tablet closer and tapped the screen a few times. Yordan watched with great interest until his expression changed first to shock, then to pure delight. “No. No! Oh, man. I thought that photo was gone forever.”

“Nothing is ever gone forever on the interwebs. You, of all people, should know this.” She turned the tablet for us to see.

On the screen was a photo of a much younger Yordan. His hair was military short and he was wearing a grey suit that didn’t appear to be well-tailored. The only similarity between the man in the photo and the colourful man at the table was the sparkle in his eyes.

He was still wearing the same clothes as last night—black slim-fit pants, a bright blue T-shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes and a flamboyantly patterned black, blue and white jacket. His hair had lost some of its volume, but still formed quite the halo around his head. His carefully shaped beard traced his jawline, his thin moustache extending down the corners of his mouth to meet it, leaving his chin and cheeks mostly exposed.

The formally dressed man in the photo was not the same as the man sitting across from Manny. His grin lifted his cheeks. “I borrowed that suit for the photo shoot. Oh, I was still so young and innocent.”

“Wasn’t that two weeks before you were arrested?” Francine laughed. “Not so innocent.”

“What else did you find?” He rubbed his palms together.

“Well, I found out that your dad died when you were very young and your mom was quite sick, so you were passed between relatives’ homes. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” His smile was genuine. “My family was amazing. During the communist times, extended families and neighbours formed tight support networks. I don’t think it was true for everyone everywhere, but in my family, we were very close. We didn’t realise we were cousins until later.”

“You stayed in the same house?” Yasmine took a sip of her coffee.

He nodded. “We were lucky. We had a huge property and both my uncles were in the construction business. They built quite a large multi-family house on the property and we spent most of our days growing up as one family.”

“Sounds like ours at the moment,” Vinnie said as he added the chopped onions to the pan. They immediately sizzled and an appetising smell filled the air.

“I think it was great growing up like that.” Yordan looked towards the front door when it opened. “That’s why Evgeni and I are still so close.”

Daniel, Yasmine and Manny got up, their hands resting on their holstered weapons. Vinnie had his weapon in his hand and was aiming it at the door.

“Good morning!” Victoriya walked in, followed by Evgeni.

Vinnie lowered his weapon and holstered it. “Breakfast?”

Evgeni glanced around the room and raised one eyebrow, then looked at Victoriya. “I told you we should’ve sent a message that we were arriving.”

“Next time.” She walked to the table and looked at me. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” I studied her face. “You didn’t.”

“I tried, but failed.” She looked at Vinnie. “I’ll take a double, please.”

“Coming right up.”

They settled at the table and Manny turned to Yordan before anyone could say anything else. “Why were you arrested?”

“Protesting.” Yordan twisted the ring around his finger. “It was after the wall came down and communism lost its power over us. I was in my early twenties and didn’t agree with the way the new democratic government wanted to keep some parts of communism still alive. I wasn’t charged with any crime, but it was quite a pivotal point for me.”

He looked at the laptops arranged in front of him. “While in holding, I met a guy who was into computers and he told me that we might be able to make a faster impact if we had better knowledge of computers.”

I pointed at his face. “You’re not being truthful.”

He jerked around to look at me, then chuckled ruefully. “Because I didn’t want to say that he lured me with talk about hacking places and people that didn’t want their activities to be known to the public.” He nodded towards Manny without taking his eyes off me. “That one will arrest me for a thought crime.”

“If only I could.” Manny took a sip of his milky tea. “Did you start hacking?”

“Not immediately.” Yordan turned to look at him. “I needed time to process what I’d heard. That man also told me that I would have to become fluent in English if I was going to be any good at hacking. Those years, we were still pretty new to using the internet, so I first focused on watching as many English-language movies and TV shows as I could. That’s where I learned to be this good.” He grinned. “Then I started doing research into hacking. It took a while before I realised that I wanted to become a white hat hacker. So I did.”

“Now you have your own company, testing cybersecurity for many international companies as well as government institutions.” Victoriya smiled gently at him as she sat down on his other side. “I’m so proud of you.”

Manny looked from Victoriya to Yordan to Francine. “What else did you find?”

She took a moment to consider her answer, then shrugged. “Nothing scandalous.” She looked at Yordan. “Something else to be proud of. Your bitcoin.”

He laughed. “Oh, wow. You are really good, girl. You found out about that?”

“I hacked an old message board you took part in.”

His eyes widened. “No way. That’s from what? Fifteen years ago? Bitcoin was still a baby and everyone thought it was ridiculous.”

“You didn’t?” Daniel put his empty mug on the table. “Are you one of those who bought... Oh, wow.”

Yordan continued to nod while grinning. “I bought fifty dollars’ worth of bitcoin in 2010. Then, one coin was valued at around five cents per coin. I bought a thousand coins.”

A lot of exclamations and swearwords came from the others.

“Today, bitcoin is trading at almost eighty-five thousand dollars per coin.” Francine shook her head. “Well done, Yordan.”

He shrugged. “It was a small investment that could’ve turned out to be a complete waste of fifty dollars. No one knew Bitcoin would grow to what it is today.” He looked at Manny. “I like having money, but I like helping people more. That’s why I’m here.”

“You found something.” I didn’t need my expertise to read Yordan.

“You did?” Victoriya grabbed his arm. “Really?”

He nodded. “I tried to get security camera footage from the parking area where Vera was taken. All those cameras had been disabled. I tried for a few blocks, but didn’t find anything yet. I will continue to look for footage, especially from privately owned businesses and buildings. But I decided to rather hack all the telecommunication companies in Bulgaria.”

“To find which phones were in close proximity at the exact time when Vera was kidnapped.” Francine nodded. “Was the list long?”

“Yup.” He pulled one laptop closer. “It took a while to weed out the people who obviously wouldn’t have taken Vera.”

“How can you be sure?” Daniel asked.

“I suppose I can’t, but I doubt strongly that a mother with three small children would’ve taken Vera. Or a man in his eighties, and so on. Since Vera told us there were three men, I kept that in mind. My first focus was on phones that aren’t registered.”

“Burner phones.” Yasmine nodded. “Those would be the obvious choice of people who don’t want to be tracked. But we can’t completely disregard all the other numbers. The kidnappers could’ve used a phone registered in someone else’s name.”

“True. But I needed to start somewhere, so I put in a few more criteria and narrowed it down to eight numbers.” He turned his laptop screen for Francine to see. “I have five names. The other three are burner phones. You are more than welcome to double-check my work.”

“What about the crime scene?” Daniel asked. “Has anyone been there to look for evidence?”

A wry smile lifted one corner of Yordan’s mouth. “Of course not. I can almost guarantee that Vera’s phone is gone and there will be zero trace of anything happening to her. If there’s no crime scene, there is no crime. That will be the argument you’ll hear from the police. I don’t have a lot of faith in the police. It’s not fair of me, because there are a lot of honest cops here, but I’ve hacked too many high-ranking officials to be disgusted with the whole police force.”

“So many bloody crimes.” Manny rubbed his hands over his face. “Do you have something actionable?”

“I do.” He worked on his laptop for a few seconds. “I hacked Vera’s phone as well. Like most of us, she kept her whole life organised on her phone. Her last meeting was with Petar Govedarov.”

Victoriya gasped. “Are you sure?”

“Why?” Manny asked. “Who is this Petter Governor?”

“Petar Govedarov.” Evgeni looked at Yordan, who nodded. “Huh. He’s a journalist.”

“An investigative journalist, who has blown many whistles.” Victoriya took a calming breath. “Why would Vera talk to him? He’s written shocking exposés about the smuggling routes through Bulgaria’s ports, how agricultural subsidies meant for small farmers are funnelled to oligarch-owned conglomerates through forged land deeds and a few more that has ruined reputations and has brought him a lot of respect and trouble. What does Vera know or have that could possibly interest him?”

“You can ask him.” Yordan took her hand. “I contacted him and arranged a meeting.”

“You can’t go.” Evgeni shook his head. “You have that breakfast meeting.”

Victoriya turned to me. “Please meet Petar Govedarov. Please find out what he knows. We now have less than 12 hours before Vera’s body will start shutting down.”

“Eat first.” Vinnie walked to the table with a laden tray. “It’s scrambled eggs on toast—fast, filling and important.”

Manny looked from the tray to me, back to Vinnie. “You, Doc and Frey will go with me to meet the journalist.”

“I’ll follow up on the rest of the numbers Yordan has found.” Francine turned to Yordan. “You need to sleep.”

He nodded. “I do.”

“I’ll help Francine.” Yasmine looked at Daniel. “We can look for more possible security footage.”

Yordan sighed happily. “This feels so good. There’s so much to do and I’m not alone.” His eyes widened. “Oh, hey.” He turned to Francine. “There is more on Vera’s phone that I haven’t checked yet. There is one specific folder that is encrypted. It might be a good place to start.”

Chapter EIGHT

“This is... different.” A smile slowly lifted the corners of Colin’s mouth as he stared at the interior of the art gallery. “I love it.”

Colin had been delighted and I had been intrigued when the investigative journalist had insisted on meeting in this art gallery in one of Sofia’s quieter neighbourhoods.

I narrowed my eyes as I searched my mind for one word to describe this space, but only came up with eclectic. The walls were a blend of exposed brick, faded plaster and repurposed wood, creating a patchwork of texture.

Colin took my hand and walked to the wall left of the entrance. “All these styles. Oh, my. It’s like the diversity in genres creates a dynamic visual dialogue.”

“We’re not here for you to write poetry about the art, Frey.” Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and glared at Vinnie when the parquet floors creaked loudly under him as he walked to a large sculpture in the centre of the empty gallery. “Why don’t you just hang a bloody bell around your neck?”

“Were we supposed to be stealthy?” Vinnie looked around. “We are in the middle of a residential area, it’s eight o’clock in the morning and all the lights are on here. Would you like for me to whisper and stick to the shadows?”

Vinnie was exaggerating. Most of the light came from the sun filtering through the tall windows. The spotlights aimed at the artwork were set low, creating a more intimate atmosphere.

Manny sighed heavily and walked towards the back, where a few mismatched vintage armchairs were randomly positioned on a large rug. A mid-century modern console table stood against the back wall, with a small coffee station arranged on its well-used wooden top. This gallery’s priority appeared not to be impressing its visitors with sleekness and austerity but rather creating a welcoming space with a community-centred ambience.

“Oh, look.” Colin pointed at three paintings in oversized black frames. He pointed at the one in the centre. “Does this look familiar?”

My eyes widened. “The Joy of Life.”

“Exactly.” Colin leaned a bit closer. “This artist obviously used that Suzanne Valadon painting as inspiration for this one.” He smiled and pointed at one of the tree branches. “They wrote Valadon’s name on the tree as if someone carved it on the trunk.” He stepped back. “A beautiful homage to Valadon’s work.”

“Are all three her paintings?” I wasn’t familiar with this artist’s works.

“Yes.” He pointed to the painting on the left. “This one is Casting the Net. See how careful she was to hide the three naked fishermen’s privates?”

Two of the three very muscular men had their backs to the viewer, the third facing forward. He was holding the ropes of the fishing net, and it hung perfectly to cover his groin. I looked closer and saw Suzanne Valadon’s name neatly written into the twists of the rope. “Is this an exact replica of the original work?”

“No.” Colin stepped back. “These paintings are more photo realistic. Valadon’s works didn’t show such fine detail. This artist is really talented.”

“For the love of the saints.” Manny walked to the closed door in the back wall and knocked loudly. “Anyone home?”

Almost immediately, the door opened and a short man in his late forties looked up at Manny. “Colonel Millard.”

“Yes.” Manny stepped to the side. “And you are?”

The man’s smile held no warmth or humour. “You know exactly who I am.” He walked past Manny into the gallery and nodded at us. “Doctor Lenard, Colin Frey, Vinnie-without-a-surname. I was told I can trust you.”

“You don’t.” I walked closer, still studying his face. “Yet you would like to.”

“Yet I’m unlikely to.” He sighed. “Life has shown me that people are seldom who they present themselves as.”

“Do you trust the people who convinced you to meet with us?” I asked.

He took a moment to answer. “Maybe more than I should.”

“Hopefully, we will prove to you they were correct.” Colin stopped next to me. “Thank you for meeting us, Mr Govedarov.”

He winced. “The only people calling me that are officials who would love to see me disappear forever and my daughter’s boyfriend.” He studied us for a few seconds, then came to a decision. “Call me Petar.” He gestured at the seating area. “Shall we?”

I chose the wooden chair without any upholstery. The other chairs looked too used and unhygienic. Manny slumped in the large armchair. “Why did you want to meet us here?”

Petar shifted in his chair, then pulled the cuffs of his blue dress shirt. He had on a buttoned cardigan, jeans and running shoes. His dark brown hair was cropped short, with a receding hairline and noticeable grey, suggesting his age. His clean-shaven face enhanced his straightforward look.

His inner battle was clear, as was the moment he made a final decision. He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at me. “I truly hope I won’t regret this, but I’m going to tell you everything I know so far.” He cleared his throat. “Vera Stoyanova phoned me a few days ago, telling me that she had proof of a very powerful person in Bulgaria abusing his power, manipulating officials and being involved in numerous crimes. She wanted us to meet here yesterday afternoon. I was here and waited for two hours, but finally left when she didn’t show up. I only spoke to her once on the phone. I never met her in person and had no other communication with her. I’m worried something happened to her and that’s why she didn’t come to the meeting she’d arranged.”

I nodded before Manny could even ask me if Petar was being truthful. “Continue.”

“She sounded scared when we spoke, but she also sounded determined and excited.”

I pointed at his face. “You have a theory.”

“With no proof.” He shrugged. “She’s the First Lady’s sister, so my first assumption was that she has some dirt on the president or some of his cronies. There are many rumours about the president.”

“What kind of rumours?” Manny asked.

“The kind that cannot be substantiated.” Petar sighed, then counted on his fingers. “One rumour is that the president is a Russian spy. See how outrageous it is? A second rumour is that the president has his thumb on the scales when it comes to prosecuting and even investigating some people in his circles. A third rumour is that he has a harem of women in the basement of his home. That’s why I don’t know if there’s any truth to any of this.”

I leaned a bit forward. “You have found something.”

“Not enough to even consider writing about.” He pursed his lips. “I started looking into the president’s influence on legal proceedings and found that in the last five months, he’d stopped investigations into people who should definitely be in jail.”

“Names.” Manny didn’t even ask. It was an order.

Petar nodded. “I’ll send it. These people have connections and power, because they’ve never even been charged with a crime, never mind prosecuted.” He paused. “I know of five cases against organised crime bosses that were halted on the president’s orders. Don’t ask me how I know this, but I trust my source.”

“Send everything you have.” Manny looked at me. “Doc?”

“Yes?” This time, I didn’t know what he expected of me.

His lips tightened into a thin line. “Any other questions?”

I looked at Petar, recalling his nonverbal cues while answering our previous questions. “What is the real reason you wanted to meet here?”

A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You are... more, better than I expected.”

I didn’t know how to reply to this, so I just waited for him to continue.

“One of the lesser-known rumours about the president is that he’s somehow connected to art being used to launder money that comes from counterfeit goods.”

“Bloody hell.” Manny pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s a lot to unpack.”

“I know. It seems so unlikely that I didn’t give it much thought. At least, not until the president’s sister-in-law wanted to meet here. This gallery is one of very few who are not in the pocket of the organised crime syndicates. I don’t know the owner, but I know an art dealer who is possibly the only art dealer in Bulgaria who doesn’t have some kind of business with the syndicates. He told me this gallery is one of a handful he trusts. The owner is in the back.” He patted his trouser pocket. “He gave me his phone and disabled all the security cameras. He’s waiting until I give him his phone back before he enables the cameras again.”

“That’s all good and well, but how does that support your suspicion about the president?” Manny asked.

“It doesn’t really.” Petar sighed. “A lot of what I’m telling you is unsubstantiated and also my own gut feeling. I have limited resources to investigate and hope that you can finally break this awful cycle of abuse of power in this country.”

His expression alarmed me. I swallowed. “You’ve been traumatised by the fallout from your exposés.”

His nostrils flared as he nodded. “I never, not once, considered backing down from speaking truth to power, but the last exposé about the pharmaceutical company using children as guinea pigs scared my family so badly that they’ve begged me to stop. The threats against them were so bad that we had to hire private security for six months after that article came out.” He looked away. “It’s still bad, but we’ve run out of funds to continue hiring bodyguards.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Colin shook his head. “I hate how accurate the saying, ‘power corrupts’, is.”

“What counterfeit goods are we talking about?” Vinnie asked.

“Everything.” Petar’s top lip curled in disgust. “Clothes, shoes, perfume, even currencies.”

“Holy hellfire.” Manny slumped deeper into the chair. “Currencies?”

“Mostly Euros and US dollars.” Petar held up his index finger. “Just to clarify, counterfeit currencies are real, it’s not a rumour. The president’s involvement is a rumour.” He lowered his hand. “I have a strong feeling that Vera had evidence of this.”

Vinnie sniffed. “I think you have more than strong feelings about a lot of people. If we need intel on people, will you help us?”

“As much as I can, yes.” He looked at me. “I won’t provide you with gossip, not like what I’ve just given you about the president. If you ask me about a person and I have verified information, I will gladly share.” He looked at Vinnie. “But only on an encrypted app. I’ll send you a link to download it if you don’t already have it. I don’t trust any of the other apps people use to communicate, even if they promise to be encrypted. This one is the most secure way I’ve found to communicate with sources.”

“Done.” Vinnie raised one shoulder when Manny grunted. “What? Franny will love working with a new app. Or maybe she already knows about it.”

“If you’re talking about the woman who does all your cyber work, then I can promise you she knows.” Petar got up and rolled his shoulders. “I’m worried that we’re opening a hornet’s nest that houses hornets the size of dragons. Watch your backs.”

“You too, dude.” Vinnie got up and looked down at him. “You know how to protect yourself?”

Petar’s smile was the first with real humour. “Don’t let my diminutive stature fool you.” He pointed at himself. “I learned to use this to my advantage. People are quick to dismiss me as a threat, they are just as quick to trust me because I look so... boring. But I’m fast. I will never be able to beat you in a fight, but you won’t be able to catch me.”

“Just make sure you never have to run away from a bullet, dude.” Vinnie looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m trying my best.” Petar’s smile was rueful. He inhaled deeply and turned towards the back door. “I’ll send that info within the hour. I’ll tell the gallery owner to give you another five minutes before he turns the security on again.”

“That’s enough time.” Vinnie looked at Manny, who also nodded.

“Take care, Petar.” Colin got up and shook his hand. “Reach out if you need help.”

No sooner did the back door close behind him than Manny’s phone rang. He swiped the screen and held the phone in front of him. “You’re on speakerphone.”

“Hello, darlings.” Francine sounded excited. “Are you still meeting with Petar?”

“He just left. We have five minutes of privacy, so talk fast.”

“You and your sweet words.” Francine laughed softly. “I found Signal on Vera’s phone.”

“What the bleeding hell is that?”

“A professional-grade secure messaging app. Many government officials and journalists rely on it.”

“And?” Manny got up.

“I found a conversation our girl had with someone.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t like the idea of someone else listening in at the moment, so I’ll send you all the deets. The conversation was only about meeting in person and it seemed like this new someone was very scared. They had some intel and really wanted to speak to our girl. I’m sending you the address to the new person’s job and the other details. Go speak to her and find out what they talked about.”

Chapter NINE

“What the bloody hell is he doing here?”

I followed Manny’s annoyed gaze and blinked in surprise. I had not expected Yordan to join us at the sewing factory. Today, he wore purple slim-fit trousers, a bright green shirt and a blazer made from a kaleidoscope-patterned fabric. He was leaning against the plain concrete façade of the squat building at the edge of the industrial district.

It had taken us seventeen minutes to drive here. In that time, Francine had phoned twice to give us more information about this factory. The owner, Georgi Angelov, had started this factory two months after communism fell. Since then, he’d developed it from a small company in his garage, sewing simple outfits for individuals to a factory that employed thirty workers to sew high-end dresses for a few select designers.

Alena Kovacs was one of these workers. She’d been the one who’d messaged Vera. Francine had forwarded the messages and even though there were only a few sentences, arranging a meeting, the fear in Alena’s communication was clear.

Colin parked the sedan in front of the building and Yordan straightened, his smile welcoming.

Manny huffed in annoyance. “I’m going to have a word with Francine for not telling me that he’s meeting us here.”

Yordan walked to us as we got out. He pointed at the row of geraniums blooming in metal boxes next to the front door. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

“No.” Manny glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping you not to make a mess of things.” He grinned at Manny, then turned to me. “You and I are going to speak to the owner.” He looked at Vinnie. “You can be our muscle.”

Colin raised his index finger as Manny inhaled sharply. “Let’s first hear why.” He looked at Yordan. “I’m listening.”

Yordan leaned a bit back and looked Colin up and down. “You look far too suave and sexy with your tailored pants, pure white shirt, elegant jacket and pocket square.” He waved his hand at Manny. “This one shouts UK cop. So, no. You are not going in there.” He looked at Vinnie. “You look rough and tough. My look causes people to struggle knowing what to say or do when they meet me and she...”—he winked at me—“she’s just gorgeous.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Colin raised one eyebrow.

“Firstly, I will tell you that Jazzy, Dan and Francine have everything under control at the house. Secondly, I did my homework on Georgi Angelov and he’s a tough guy. He refuses to speak to law enforcement without his lawyers and doesn’t trust good-looking men.” He wriggled his eyebrows. “He loves pretty women, though.”

Manny inhaled again to say something, but Yordan continued before he could say anything. “I know you’re not happy with it, but I speak this man’s language. Hah. Pun not intended, but should’ve been intended. I mean, I literally and figuratively speak his language. His like the father of my best friend when I was in my teens. That old man was... how do you say? A diamond in the rough. He swore a lot, didn’t trust any kind of authority, but would give you his last food and only pair of shoes. I know how to speak to him.”

Manny sighed, then looked at Vinnie. “Keep them safe.”

“You know I will.” Vinnie looked at me. “Good to go, Jen-girl?”

I looked at the closed front door and nodded.

“Goodie.” Yordan clapped his hands and leaned towards Manny. “You won’t regret trusting me.”

“I already do.”

Colin pressed a soft kiss on my forehead. “Sure about this?”

“No.” I shrugged. “My mind is screaming at me to be in my viewing room in Strasbourg and follow my strict routine, but I’m here and Vinnie is joining me, so...” I shrugged again.

“Tell you what.” Colin let go of my hand and took his phone from his jacket pocket. “I’m calling you now. Answer and keep the line open. That way, we’ll listen in and know if and when to come in.”

Immediately, an unfamiliar ringtone sounded from my handbag. I took my phone from its designated place while glaring at Colin. He often changed the ringtones on my phone. This one was the gritty, soulful voice of a man singing about losing control. I swiped the screen just as he reached a powerful note and put the phone in the front pocket of my handbag.

My mind screamed at me and I removed the phone. It could only ever be in one place in my bag. I shuddered and put the phone in the front pocket of my straight-leg burgundy trousers. The pocket was barely big enough for the phone and it felt most uncomfortable, but was more acceptable to my brain.

With a final warning to Vinnie, Manny stepped back to let us pass him. Yordan reached the front door first and opened it. “Huh. No serious security here.”

We were greeted by a loud hum of activity coming from behind a thin wall with a large window overlooking the factory floor. Rows of industrial sewing machines lined the space, each manned by a focused operator, their hands moving with steady precision. I stepped closer to the window, aware of Vinnie at my back, and narrowed my eyes. Most of the workers were women, but I also saw a few men.

“Can I help you?” An unfriendly voice from my right drew my attention away from the factory floor.

“Georgi Angelov!” Yordan flapped his hands in a manner unlike any of his truthful body language. “What an honour to finally meet you.” He didn’t give the burly man a chance to respond. Immediately, he changed to Bulgarian and spoke fast and with great enthusiasm.

Even though I could hear similarities to Russian, I didn’t understand what was being said. Instead, I focused on the two men. Georgi Angelov stood with the quiet solidity of someone who was used to being the biggest presence in a room. His micro-expressions as he listened to Yordan prattle on told me that he was sharp, but his distrust was deep-seated as he weighed every word Yordan uttered.

His cropped, greying hair did little to soften the hard lines of his face and his unsmiling lips thinned even more when Yordan gestured at me and Vinnie. He put his hands on his hips, his thumbs facing back—the posture of someone ready for an argument. His faded blue golf shirt clung slightly to his thick frame, the collar tugged somewhat askew. His scuffed shoes suggested long hours on his feet and his well-worn jeans made me wonder if he was one of those people whose success and wealth never translated into a style change.

The more Yordan spoke, the more Georgi Angelov relaxed. Whatever Yordan said had a very positive impact on the older man. His chest puffed out and he even nodded a few times.

“So, that is why we are here.” Yordan turned to me and grinned.

It took everything in me to school my features when I realised he’d been telling lies about our presence here.

Yordan waved at me to come closer. “Professor Genevieve would love to speak to your workers for her upcoming lecture. But first, she would love to hear more about your factory.”

I wouldn’t. I had no interest in this factory. I only wanted to ask Alina Kovacs why she’d wanted to meet with Vera. I rubbed my hands against my hips and stepped closer. “Yes, I would love to hear about the work you do here, Mr Angelov.”

“Georgi. Please call me Georgi.” He straightened even more. “You already know history of my business, I will tell about work now.” Even though his accent was heavy and his grammar far from perfect, he communicated with ease. He gestured towards the large windows. “We moved into here fifteen months ago. I make good light for workers, air condition and more ventilation. It get very hot from machines. When workers is comf.. comfta... happy, they make good work.”

He pointed at framed photos lining the wall on our left. “We make knockouts.”

Yordan snorted a laughter, but immediately covered it with a cough. He spoke in Bulgarian, then swallowed a few times to suppress his laughter. “Knockoffs. Not fakes, but knockoffs from famous brands.”

“Yes.” Georgi nodded. “My daughter is designer. She take clothes from very expensive names, change them little and we sew them. Our clothes are high quality, not expensive, but not Temu-cheap.” He sniffed in disgust. “Chinese clothes use bad fabric with bad chemics in them. Our fabrics are good. Real. No chemics.”

“Chemicals?” Yordan offered.

Geordi jerked his chin up in agreement. “We have good fabric, good sew, good dress and suite.”

“Suit?”

“That’s what I said.” Georgi glared at Yordan. “Good clothes. Good business. Family business. I no sell out.”

“Did someone offer to buy your company?” I wondered if he’d also been pressured like Vera to sell to corporate raiders.

Again, Georgi sniffed. “I no sell. They ask, they... zaplashvat.”

“Threaten, intimidate,” Yordan said.

“I no sell.” Geogi’s jaw tightened and his lips thinned. “This is family business. One day, my daughter take this.”

“She’s a lucky woman.” Yordan’s smile was genuine. “Do you know Vera Dimitrova?”

“Vera!” Georgi’s eyes widened with recognition, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “I high respect she. Good designer, good fabric. Too expensive for our dresses, because very, very best.” He looked at Yordan, then looked at me. “Why you ask? Where Vera is?”

Yordan hesitated.

I didn’t. I took another step closer to Georgi. “Vera has been kidnapped. We only have nine hours to find her.”

He stared at me, then looked at Yordan, who immediately translated.

“Why nine?”

“She’s sick.” I spoke slowly. “She needs medicine to live.”

“Deiba.” The word exploded from his mouth. I didn’t need a translation to know it was a crude expression of shock. He leaned forward, staring hard at me. “What you need? What I do?”

“I need to speak to Alina Kovacs.”

“Alina?” He looked towards the left of the factory floor. “She work here five weeks. Good worker. Honest.” He turned to me. “She bad?”

“I don’t know. We think she knows something that might put her life in danger.”

Yordan translated. Before he finished, Georgi gestured for us to follow him. “Come. We talk Alina.”

He rushed to the door on the left of the large window.

I was about to follow him when something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I turned back to look at the area where Alina’s workstation was, but didn’t see anything.

“What’s up, Jen-girl?” Vinnie stood next to me and I had to look around him to search that area again.

“I thought I saw a spark.”

“What—” The rest of Georgi’s question was drowned out by the explosion that rocked the building.

Chapter TEN

The shockwave of the explosion rippled through the factory. My ears rang and darkness flooded my peripheral vision as the sharp sound of shattering glass seemed to scrape across my mind.

I blinked a few times and realised I was on the floor, Vinnie hovering over me. “Jen-girl! Hey... oh, there you are.”

“I didn’t leave.” I could barely hear his soft laugh above the screams of panic coming from the factory floor.

“Jenny!” Colin’s voice reached me a second before he fell onto his knees next to me. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head and couldn’t stop. After a frustrating six seconds, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I blocked out the high-pitch ring of car alarms outside, a siren wailing from within the factory and the pained groans coming from where Georgi had been. Seven slow breaths later, I opened my eyes and sat up, my head no longer shaking uncontrollably.

I took stock of my body, glad to see the worst damage was dirt on my comfortable trousers. “I’m unhurt.” I looked at Vinnie. “You?”

“A few scratches. No biggie.” He got up. “Let me see how I can help.”

Three women ran past us to the open front door. They appeared unharmed, but the terror on their faces told me their mental trauma might take a long time to heal.

I looked at Colin and nodded. He understood immediately, got up and held his hand out. I took it and was surprised when my legs weren’t shaky. I looked around, my gaze stopping on Vinnie helping Georgi up. The other man had a laceration on his forehead, blood flowing down the side of his face. Instead of making him look injured and vulnerable, it merely added to the fury on his face.

He shouted in Bulgarian and ran into the factory, herding more people out and pointing others to a side door. One of the few men on the floor opened the door and coughed as smoke started filling the space. Georgi ran to the devastated area where Alina had been working, but stopped when Vinnie grabbed him and pulled him back from the flames.

The rolls of fabric on a steel table against the wall had caught fire, the flames feeding on the flammable material and spreading with terrifying speed. My breathing stuttered as I watched Vinnie drag Georgi to the side door. He looked towards us and his eyes widened when he saw us. I couldn’t hear what he shouted, but it affected Colin.

He pulled on my hand. “We have to go, love. Vinnie and Millard will make sure everyone is safe.”

It felt like my feet were cemented to the floor. I couldn’t take my eyes off the workers pouring out of the factory, coughing, crying, some limping and supporting others with worse injuries. I stood there for another five seconds, watching as the fire spread and a dense, acrid smoke filled the air.

Finally, Colin’s insistent tugging loosened the hold the floor seemed to have on my feet and we ran to the door. As soon as we reached the threshold, the fire sprinkler system started with a loud swoosh. I hoped it would prevent the factory from completely burning down.

We ran away from the building and stopped on the far side of the small parking area where all the workers were congregated. A few more workers stumbled out of the side door and rushed towards us, Manny, Vinnie and Georgi behind them.

“Yordan.” The word passed my lips as a mere whisper. I let go of Colin’s hand and frantically searched the group of people for that colourful jacket. Darkness pushed in closer and my breathing became erratic. “Yordan.”

“Over there.” Colin took my hand again and gestured with his free hand.

Close to the gate, Yordan was cutting a strip from a long length of bright yellow fabric. He handed it to a woman who pressed it against another woman’s wounded arm. Yordan handed her another strip that she used to secure the pressure bandage. They must’ve grabbed supplies on their way out.

Georgi stormed towards us, blood still streaming down his face. He spoke in Bulgarian and I was sure his language was coloured with very strong, offensive words. Yordan’s eyes widened and he handed the scissors he’d been using to another woman. Only when he rushed towards us did I see his limp. My heart rate increased and my grip on Colin’s hand tightened.

Yordan gave my face one look and shook his head. “I’m okay, Genevieve. I twisted my ankle when I ran in my pretty shoes. I’m okay.”

Georgi shouted something and Yordan flinched. He said something back to Georgi, his tone gentle. The other man’s nostrils flared, but he did take a few calming breaths before he turned and shook his index finger at me. Then he noticed Colin and his eyebrows came down in a fierce frown. He shouted again.

Yordan waited until he finished and took a small step to position himself between me and Georgi. He looked from the other man to me. “He’s accusing you of bringing trouble to his business. He wants to know why you wanted to speak to Alina.”

I studied Georgi’s nonverbal cues and only saw concern, fury and even fear for his workers. I blinked a few times, then pushed Mozart’s Divertimento No. 10 in F major into my mind to keep the darkness from taking over more of my vision. “Alina wanted to tell Vera something. They arranged to meet, but Vera was taken before they could. Alina sounded very scared and I wanted to ask her what she knew that terrified her that much.”

As Yordan translated, Georgi’s expression didn’t change much, but I still saw his fury and fear increasing. He spat out a few angry words and I glanced at Yordan, my heart racing.

“He says Alina is dead and he knows who did this.” Yordan turned to Georgi and spoke in Bulgarian.

Georgi stared at him, then looked at me, his expression filled with rage. “Dimitar Ivanov.”

Yordan gasped and took a step back. He spoke briefly to Georgi, but I no longer cared about their words. The fear on their faces made the darkness close in on me. I turned up the mental volume of the Divertimento and continued studying their faces.

Georgi’s head jerked to the side when sirens sounded far in the background. He leaned closer to Yordan and spoke fiercely. Yordan’s breathing increased and his eyes widened.

Yordan turned to us. “The police are on their way. We must leave now. If what Georgi told me is true, they won’t allow you to speak to anyone in case you expose this.”

“Go!” Georgi stepped closer to tower over me. “You go. You help. You stop Dimitar Ivanov. Go!”

Chapter ELEVEN

“Genevieve!” Francine jumped up from the dining table when we walked into the living area of our temporary home. “Honey, are you okay?”

She stopped in front of me and took her time to inspect me from head to toe. Finally, she exhaled a shuddering breath and pressed her index finger gently against my shoulder. “I was so worried when Manny told me what happened.”

“He told you I was unharmed.”

“He did, but that doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

I nodded. She was correct. I had spent most of the fifteen-minute drive here focusing on every B flat above middle C in the Divertimento.

It appeared that the explosion had only damaged the interior of the building and our sedan had been completely unscathed. I still didn’t know how I’d gotten my feet to cooperate, but I’d rushed to the car and five minutes after Georgi had shouted at us to leave, we’d been far enough to no longer hear the sirens.

Colin had stayed within the speed limits, not attracting any unwanted attention. Yordan had raced away from us the moment we’d left the factory parking lot. He was already seated at the dining table, his hands flying over the keyboard of one of his three laptops.

Manny stormed past me to the table, glaring at Yordan. “Who the bleeding hell is Ivan Dimitrov? And why the bleeding hell didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Dimitar Ivanov.” Yordan looked up from his laptop. “I didn’t answer because I was finding out a few things.” Yordan leaned back and raised a shaped eyebrow. “And I’m fine, thank you for asking. My ankle is throbbing a bit, but I’ll take one for the team.”

“Take a breath, old man.” Vinnie walked up to Manny and slapped him lightly on his shoulder blade. “Take a load off, sit down and I’ll bring you some tea with extra milk.”

Manny grunted, but did as Vinnie said. I followed Colin to the table and blinked when I registered Yasmine and Daniel’s expressions. I sat down and looked at them. “I’m really unharmed and my mind is mostly okay.” I looked at Yasmine. “You are worried about more than just me.”

“Oh, Genevieve.” Yasmine smiled at me. “You are more important than anything else bugging me.”

“What is...” I glanced at Colin when he bumped my shoulder with his. My eyes widened and I looked back at Yasmine. “Thank you for caring about me.”

She laughed softly, her expression filled with affection. “Always and forever. And before you ask again, I’ll tell you that the name Dimitar Ivanov has been floating around Europol for some time.”

“In connection with what?” Manny asked.

“A long list of crimes.” She winced. “No one has been able to connect him to any of those with concrete evidence.”

“That sounds about right.” Yordan was working on his laptop again, not looking up. “He’s a slippery one.”

Our phones pinged and Daniel got up. “I’ll open for them.”

Colin turned his phone screen to show me. Victoriya had sent a message to all of us that they were entering the property. No sooner had Daniel opened the front door than Victoriya and Evgeni walked in.

She rushed over to the table, her face filled with fear. “Are you really okay? No one got hurt?”

“A lot of factory workers were injured, but as far as we saw, no one was seriously injured.” Yordan’s lips thinned as he looked at Evgeni. “Only one person died.”

“Alina Kovacs.” Victoriya sat down, her shoulders sagging. “No one should’ve died. What is happening?”

Vinnie put a large tray on the table, filled with steaming coffee mugs and a plate of chocolate cookies. “Have some coffee while we talk.”

Yordan cleared his throat and looked from Evgeni to Victoriya. “How well do you know Dimitar Ivanov?”

Victoriya’s reaction was immediate and severe. She jerked and her eyes widened as she gasped. “Why?”

“Mother Mary and all the bloody saints.” Manny rubbed his hands over his face. “If someone doesn’t start telling me about this Ivantar clown...”

“Dimitar Ivanov.” Yordan frowned at Manny. “Do you always get names wrong?”

“It’s his superpower,” Francine said while scrolling her tablet. “Okay, so I have something on Ivanov. He’s a very successful businessman. Fifty-eight.” She leaned away from her table. “Ooh, I think I’ll call him Icky Ivanov.”

“Why?” Yordan leaned closer to look at her tablet. “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “He’s been married four times, each time leaving his wife for a younger model. His current fiancée is twenty-six years old and is the daughter of one of his business partners.”

“He doesn’t have business partners.” Victoriya's voice held a sharpness that demanded my full attention. Her top lip curled and her red lips were pulled into a thin line. “He has people under his control, he has minions, he has enforcers. He does not have partners.”

“How do you know him?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I’ve never met the man, but I’ve seen him with my husband three times in the last two months. It’s an open secret that Ivanov runs the country with his mob connections.”

“Mob as in mafia?” Yasmine asked.

Victoriya nodded. “He is the most powerful organised crime boss in Bulgaria and no one has been able to pin anything on him or do anything to prevent him from gaining more and more power.” Her lips pursed into a tight, angry knot. “Soon he’ll even have the president in his back pocket.”

“What happened?” Evgeni sat down next to Victoriya, concern and anger on his face.

“Remember I told you that I saw Galin shaking hands with a man and then putting something into his pocket?” A shudder shook her shoulders. “Galin was talking with Dimitar Ivanov. I didn’t know that they even knew each other. When I asked Galin’s secretary, he told me that Galin had met with Ivanov three times in the last two months. Apparently, to talk about the development of a new golf course close to the coast. To attract more tourists.” She exhaled angrily. “Why would the local police chief be part of that meeting? He has no jurisdiction outside of Sofia and we are almost four hundred kilometres from the coast.”

“What else can you tell us about him?” Yasmine looked at Yordan.

“Rumours, lots of rumours.” Yordan shrugged. “There is a lot of talk in private forums about how Ivanov owns every single politician in this country. He blackmails his way into their lives and gets them to do what he needs or wants, including making investigations disappear. There is even a story about Ivanov creating some scandal with deepfakes and AI-created news stories about a priest who was asking a lot of questions about Ivanov. He threatened to leak the created scandal, which would’ve destroyed the priest, even if he was found innocent after an investigation. Once you put the label of paedophile on someone, it is there forever.”

Victoriya’s eyes were wide, her face pale. “Are you talking about Father Pulev?” She inhaled sharply when Yordan nodded. “He’s done only good for this country.” She looked at me. “He is one of the few church leaders who stood up against the communist regime. He suffered greatly for that. When communism fell, he continued his work to fight for women’s rights, children’s rights and even rights for immigrants.”

“Ivanov is a psychopath.” Yordan leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure of it. You can’t have normal human emotions and do the things he’s done.”

“Like?” Yasmine asked.

Yordan grunted. “I suppose I should’ve said, do the things he’s suspected of doing. No one has been able to prove that he was behind the assassinations of two mob bosses, one politician and the previous mayor of Varna.”

Victoriya’s hand flew to her chest. “Are you serious?”

Yordan nodded, then looked at us. “Varna is a very important port city on the Black Sea coast, with direct shipping lines to Turkey, Russia and Ukraine.”

“Holy hell.” Manny looked at Francine. “What else?”

“I haven’t done a deep dive yet. I’ll get into it later with Yordan. What I found in the last fifteen minutes is that on the surface web, Dimitar Ivanov is presented as a hugely successful businessman, real estate developer, owner of a few companies and board member of many.” She looked at Yordan. “I suppose he got onto those boards in very unprofessional, unethical and illegal ways?”

“Very likely.” He took his time to look at each one of us. “If he’s behind this, we have to take this opportunity to stop him. We need to take Bulgaria out of his disgusting hands.”

“I’m willing to bet your bitcoin collection that it is him.” Francine smiled when Yordan’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “Wanna know why? I’ll tell you why.” Her smile widened when Manny grunted in impatience. “Petar sent me an email.”

“The journalist.” Daniel leaned forward. “Did he send that list of...” He glanced at Victoriya. “This might not be easy to hear.”

She took a shaky breath. “Tell me.”

“Petar was looking into your husband’s influence on legal proceedings.” Francine’s tone was gentle. “Investigations, arrest warrants and prosecutions. In the last five months, he’d stopped investigations into three people who Petar told us should be in prison.” She paused. “One of those people is Dimitar Ivanov.”

Victoriya’s chin wobbled, but she shook her head and straightened her shoulders. “Who are the other two?”

Francine named them and the First Lady frowned. “I don’t know those people.”

“Do you know who owns Pirin Group?” Francine raised one eyebrow when Victoriya gasped. “Seriously? Your husband owns it?”

“It’s a small, generic company he registered before he was even mayor. He used it to invoice for his consulting services.”

“Consulting what?” Yasmine asked.

“Legal and financial restructuring in companies.” She crossed her arms. “Galin is incredibly intelligent. That was one of the reasons I fell in love with him. His mind is something you don’t often come across—his complex reasoning, his problem-solving skills are what made him become one of the most respected presidents in recent history.”

There it was. The sadness. So far, I’d only seen contempt, disgust and anger when she’d spoken about her husband. Now, she’d given me a glimpse into her deep affection for a man she believed betrayed everything she thought he stood for.

“What did Pirin Group do?” Daniel asked.

Francine looked at Victoriya, contrition clear on her face. “I’m so sorry, Victoriya. I managed to get into Vera’s cloud account. She cleverly hid the account on her phone, then just as cleverly hid a folder with evidence that Pirin Group wanted to take her company.”

“Take?” The word came out harsh and Victoriya took three seconds to compose herself. “Do you mean to tell me that Pirin Group is involved in corporate raiding and wanted to take my sister’s company by force?”

Francine nodded. “I’m really sorry.”

“It doesn’t mean that Galin is behind it.” Evgeni’s defence of the president surprised not only Victoriya. Almost everyone around the table stared at the man who seldom spoke. “I’m on your side, Victoriya, but I also know Galin. I find it hard to believe that he’s behind any of this. That he’s making deals with people like Ivanov.”

“Evgeni is right.” Yordan leaned towards Victoriya. “It’s possible that Ivanov is blackmailing Galin, that somehow Ivanov got control over Pirin Group and is using it for corporate raiding.”

“And possibly using it against Galin.” For one second, hope filled Victoriya’s face. Then she shook her head fiercely. “No. I’m treating Galin as guilty until proven innocent.”

“Harsh.” Francine shrugged. “But not unfair. Did he ever give you any indication that he might be on the road to becoming a corrupt official?”

“No.” Again, her word came out harsh. She cleared her throat. “No. He’s still talking about fighting against the corruption in the highest levels of government and that it’s his dream to get rid of it. To get rid of those people.” She moved her hand as if to push this thought away. “Why didn’t Vera tell me any of this?”

“Possibly because she wanted to be sure of her facts before she said anything,” Francine offered.

Victoriya exhaled heavily. “Maybe that’s why she phoned yesterday. Why she wanted to speak to me.”

“What do you know about Liliana Perostiyska.” Francine grimaced. “I think I destroyed the pronunciation of her surname.”

“It was close enough.” Victoriya leaned back in her chair. “Liliana is Vera’s right hand in Zlaten Shar. She started out as Vera’s receptionist-slash-secretary, but soon became Vera’s personal assistant and most trusted business associate. If I remember correctly, Vera gave her some shares in the company on the tenth anniversary of them working together. What else?” She thought for a moment. “Her parents moved here from Romania when she was very small. She’s married to a teacher, a Bulgarian man. She’s really lovely and I can’t say anything bad about her. Why?”

Francine raised both hands, palms out. “Nothing bad. At least, I don’t suspect anything bad. I had a look at Vera’s company—finances, taxes and other legalities. Everything appears completely above board. Yasmine double-checked everything and also couldn’t find anything iffy. So, we started checking Vera’s closest business associates. That’s when I found a huge number of calls between Vera and Liliana.”

“That would be normal. They’re constantly in communication about the company.”

“At eleven in the evening? Five in the morning?” Francine shook her head. “I compared their phoning habits from six months ago and these late-night calls started six weeks ago. A lot of calls. All times of the night.”

“We then compared their locations.” Yasmine smiled gently at Victoriya. “Most of the times that they made those calls, they were both in their homes. But there was one time, five days ago, when their phones were at the same location.”

“It was half past ten at night,” Francine continued. “Alina’s phone was also at that location.”

Victoriya’s eyes were wide. “Alina, Liliana and Vera in the same place? How... oh, my. Alina is quite a common name, but Kovacs is a Romanian surname. It might be possible that there is a connection between Alina and Liliana and that Liliana asked for Vera’s help. Knowing my sister, she would’ve done anything and everything to help.”

“What location?” Manny asked.

Yordan named two streets. “In that neighbourhood. We don’t have an exact address.”

“Oh, I know that area.” Victoriya frowned. “Nina lives a few blocks from there.” She got up. “We need to speak to Liliana.” She shook her head and turned to me. “No, you need to speak to her. I’m too upset. I will go with you and introduce you. Maybe she knows what is going on and can help us find Vera.” She looked at her watch. “We only have six hours before the need for her medication becomes critical.”

Chapter TWELVE

Vera’s factory looked very different from Georgi’s. Its exterior was a minimalist blend of glass and brushed steel. It was surrounded by similar-looking buildings in the trendier part of the industrial area.

Victoriya clearly knew her way around as she led us inside. A soundproof glass wall separated the elegant reception area from the factory floor. Even though Georgi’s factory was clean and neat, this was state-of-the-art. The looms hummed with rhythmic precision under the soft white glow of LED overhead lights. Polished concrete floors stretched between three rows of automated weaving stations, where spools of fine thread unwound and interlaced with silent efficiency.

“This way.” Victoriya pointed to the stairs leading to a mezzanine level.

Evgeni stayed at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll wait here.”

Vinnie and Daniel had decided to keep watch outside. Manny was directly behind Victoriya, and Yasmine brought up the rear. They were both armed. No one had argued when Manny had told us that he was not risking our safety for the sake of international diplomacy. There would be significant repercussions if we were caught investigating a case that could incriminate the president of the host country, with most of our team armed and none of us here in any official capacity.

The stairs led to three offices overlooking the well-ordered production floor through more soundproof glass. Victoriya nodded at a young woman who came out of a small kitchen. She closed the door behind her and froze when she noticed the rest of us. She spoke in Bulgarian, her eyes wide.

Victoriya slowed down, but continued walking to the middle office as she said a few quick words to the young woman, who nodded and rushed down the stairs. Victoriya knocked once on the door and opened it before anyone could answer. She waved us over. “Come.”

I walked past the small conference room that was tastefully furnished and followed Manny through the second door. This room was similarly decorated—light oak furniture, matte-black fixtures and a single potted plant by the window. The large desk against the wall to our right was free of clutter, with only a sleek monitor and a tablet docked at the side.

The woman behind the desk jumped up. She was wearing a burgundy trouser suit, matched with a silk floral blouse. Her long brown hair hung straight down her back, the style as unassuming as her minimal makeup and small silver earrings. “Victoriya!”

“Hello, Liliana.” Victoriya’s expression softened when the woman walked around and hugged her. She took a step back and gestured towards us. “These are my friends. I’ll do introductions later, but we need to have a very quick conversation.”

“Okay.” Liliana drew the word out and took a step back. “Is this about Vera? Is this why she’s not answering her phone? She was supposed to have an online meeting two hours ago and she’s never late.” Liliana’s face grew pale. “Is she okay?”

“Take a breath.” Victoriya pointed at the two chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s sit down.”

Liliana shook her head. “No. I don’t want to sit. Tell me what’s going on.” She glanced at us again, her gaze suspicious. Her English was fluent, her accent neutral. “Is Vera...”

“Oh, no.” Victoriya pressed her hand against her chest. “She’s still alive. I believe that.”

“What?” Liliana grabbed one of the chairs and sat down heavily. “What are you talking about?”

There was no mistaking the genuine concern and love in Liliana’s nonverbal cues as Victoriya told her about Vera’s kidnapping and the race against time to get medicine to her before it might be too late.

“My friends here are helping me look for her.” Victoriya sat down and closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at Liliana again, it was with regret. “I don’t know whom I can trust in Bulgaria, so I asked for outside help. They were following information that led them to Alina Kovac’s workplace.”

Liliana gasped. “Is Alina okay? Did he get to her?”

Victoriya took Liliana’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Liliana. Alina was killed this morning.”

The keen that came from Liliana sounded animal-like. She folded into herself, her arms tightly crossed over her torso as she mumbled unintelligible words.

Victoriya put her hand gently on Liliana’s shoulder and rubbed in circles. “I wish I could give you more time to process this news, but we really need to know why you and Vera have been talking so much in the middle of the night, where you met Alina and why.”

Liliana took three loud, shaky breaths before she straightened. Her face was tear-soaked, her skin void of all colour. “I told Alina she would be safe. I told her no one would find her at Georgi’s factory. How did he find her?”

Victoriya took Liliana’s hand again and tugged on it until Liliana looked at her. “I need you to focus for me, please. Vera was taken yesterday and right now, she has only hours before her body is going to go into a full-blown Addison’s crisis. Will you focus for me, please? For Vera?”

Liliana pulled her shoulders back and nodded. “Alina came to me about six weeks ago. She’d heard that I had Romanian roots and that I was honest, so she hoped she could trust me. It’s quite a long story.”

“We don’t have much time, so make it short.” Victoriya let go of Liliana’s hand and sat back in her chair. “Please.”

“Short. Okay. The story starts with Alina’s sister. She came to Bulgaria a year ago to work at an international company as their social media director. It was a job opportunity that she would never get in Romania, so she didn’t hesitate. She and Alina spoke every day for the first two weeks. Then the phone calls became less regular and Alina could hear something wasn’t right. The last time Alina spoke to her sister was nine months ago. She told Alina that she had made a huge mistake coming here and she wanted to go home.

“Then she disappeared. Alina phoned the company that had hired her sister, but they’d never heard of her. The police also checked and there was no sign of her sister even entering Bulgaria.” She paused. “Six months ago, a woman’s body was found in Paris. I don’t remember exactly where. Alina told me it was in one of the more dangerous parts of Paris. It took almost ten days before they identified that body as Alina’s sister. The autopsy showed she’d overdosed. Alina said her sister never did drugs or would ever. She didn’t even like beer and only had one glass of wine with celebration dinners.

“After the funeral, Alina decided she needed to know what had happened to her sister, so she came here. She used a false identity to get her sister’s old job at the company that had said they’d never hired her sister.”

“What’s the company’s name?” Yasmine asked.

“Rilavista Global. It started as a local real estate development company after communism fell. They grew quite quickly and added the ‘Global’ to their name. They have developments in most of Eastern and Central Europe. Alina got a job there as their social media content creator and admin.” A sad smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “She’s one of the best cybersecurity experts in Europe. She took a one-year sabbatical from her job to come to Bulgaria and find out what happened to her sister. Her plan was to get into Rilavista Global, get into their system and find evidence.”

“Did she?” Yasmine asked.

“At first, no. She worked in their headquarters and said it looked completely legit. There was no sign that there were any under-the-table deals. It took her a few weeks before she had gained enough trust to be allowed to work late. She told me that she wasn’t able to hack them because they had a closed system. She had to do it from inside. The moment she started working late, she was able to find hidden files and folders and evidence that would bring down the owner and many powerful people in Bulgaria.”

Victoriya’s shoulders sagged. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did she find something on Galin?”

Liliana nodded once. “She said there was evidence that your husband was helping the company’s owner to get better deals.”

“Who is this owner?” The dread on Victoriya’s face told me she already knew the answer.

“Dimitar Ivanov.” Liliana frowned as she looked at us. “You know about him, right?”

“He’s on our radar, yes.” Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “What evidence did Alina find?”

“I don’t know.” She looked back at Victoriya. “Vera and I were going to meet with her yesterday and she was going to give us everything she’d found.”

I studied her face. “You know something.”

She swallowed, fear stark on her face. “I do, but I don’t know if I should say anything. Vera is missing and Alina is dead. I have two small children. I... I don’t want to die.”

“We will protect you and your family.” Victoriya looked at Evgeni. “We will find someone honest who has no connections to Ivanov or my husband. They will stay with you until we find Vera and we know you will be safe.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be safe. Not until Ivanov is in prison, as well as everyone connected to him.” She looked out of the glass window and shook her head. “It’s a long list.”

“Then give us that list and let us do our jobs.” Manny shrugged. “The only way to stop these people is to reveal who they are.”

She blinked a few times and finally nodded. “Alina found evidence of a lot of crimes connected to Ivanov. The development company served as a front for a lot of money laundering. She followed the money and figured out that Ivanov was heading a few operations. A lot of the companies he’d bought at ridiculously low prices were producing counterfeit goods.

“She had the names of up-and-coming businesses that made handbags by local designers, sewing companies, printing companies and more. The moment he bought them, he expanded those small businesses so their productivity could be doubled or even tripled. Yet, they weren’t selling more of their original bags or sewing more of their original clothes. He used all the new equipment to create counterfeit designer bags, print T-shirts that violated all kinds of copyright and trademark laws, sew outfits from high-end brands and sell them as the real thing.

“That was bad enough, but Alina figured out that the people working in these expanded sections of the raided companies were treated like indentured servants. Ivanov would pay for their journeys from our eastern neighbours, but the moment they arrived, he would confiscate their passports and make them work off their debt. They would be working eighteen hours a day and weren’t allowed any contact with the outside world. They stayed in hostel-like places, were given two meals a day and were told their families would be killed if they didn’t do as they were told.”

“That’s a long list of crimes.” Yasmine paused, then nodded as if to herself. “I’m from Europol and we’ve been looking at Ivanov for a long time. What you are telling me now is incredibly helpful. If we can get the evidence that Alina was going to give to you and Vera, it would free these people and stop Ivanov.”

Liliana was shaking her head before Yasmine even finished. “I don’t think Europol has as much money as Ivanov.”

There was something in her expression that sent a rush of adrenaline through my system. “Why does he have so much money?”

“Alina figured out that Ivanov was using three different phones. She hacked all three and found out that her sister had seen something she shouldn’t have. That’s why he arranged for her to go on a work trip to Paris. He also arranged for her to be killed there.”

“She had evidence of all of that?” Yasmine’s eyes were wide in shock.

Liliana nodded. “She was going to give it to us last night.”

“There’s more.” I pointed at her face. “What did Alina find on his phones?”

“Who are you?” Liliana leaned away from me. “A human lie detector?”

Colin chuckled softly. “Just about. She’s an expert in nonverbal communication, which means she can see much more than we say.”

“Oh.” She looked at me and sighed. “Alina found a folder on one of the phones with lots of photos. Most of the photos were stacks and stacks and stacks of cash. It looked like security camera photos inside a printing company.”

“Holy hell.” Manny rubbed his hand over his face. “This bloody idiot is printing cash?”

Liliana nodded. “Alina said that she was convinced of it. She didn’t know where the printing company was, but the photos show the inside with a few people operating the machines and a lot of armed men standing around, watching them.”

“What currencies?” Yasmine shifted on her feet. “Did she see what they were printing?”

“US dollars, Euros and Turkish Lira.”

“Bloody hell.” Manny looked from her to me and back. “Who else knows about this?”

Liliana’s lips thinned and guilt flooded her face. She looked at Victoriya. “Nina.”

“No!” Victoriya grabbed the side of her head, then fumbled to open her handbag. “Let me phone her.”

“I tried this morning.” Tears filled her eyes. “She didn’t answer.”

Victoriya pulled out her smartphone and tapped the screen. She put the phone to her ear and listened, fear growing more visible as the seconds ticked by. Finally, she lowered the phone. “She always answers my calls. Always.”

Colin studied the two women, his eyes narrowed. “Nina is your aunt, correct? Why is she so important?”

It took Victoriya a few seconds to compose herself. “Nina is retired now, but she was the head of Bulgarian LEV printing.”

“The Printing Works of the Bulgarian National Bank Corp?” Yasmine inhaled deeply, then nodded. “It makes sense that Vera would take this to her. She would know what to do.”

“Your sister said the men who took her smelled like your aunt.” I thought about this some more. “Surely, there is a specific smell to the material and ink used in printing bills. Could that have been the smell?”

“Oh, God.” Victoriya looked at me, then at Liliana and back at me. “The location data. Vera and Alina were at Nina’s house. What if Nina has also been kidnapped?”

“Then we find her too.” Colin’s tone was as confident as his body language. “Let’s go to her home. We might find something there that will give us answers and help us find your sister.”

“And my aunt.” Victoriya got up.

Chapter THIRTEEN

“She’s not here.” Evgeni opened the front door, his expression grave.

“Clear.” Vinnie stood behind him. “Your aunt isn’t here.”

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t like the dread whirling around my mind.

Vinnie tapped Evgeni on his shoulder to step aside. “Someone has been here before us.”

“No!” Victoriya rushed past them into the small house.

The properties on this street were a mix of old and well-maintained, old and in desperate need of renovation and new modern homes with carefully landscaped gardens. Victoriya’s aunt’s home was one of the former.

Three other houses on this street also had pale yellow stucco walls, white-trimmed windows, and red-tile roofs. Their boxy design, minimal ornamentation and simple geometric shapes seemed reminiscent of the socialist-era focus on functionality over luxury. Nina’s neat front garden featured vibrant tulips, daffodils and lavender bushes arranged along the gravel path we’d taken to the front door.

I followed Colin into the house. A collection of family photos hung on the wall by the front door, welcoming visitors into a cosy home. Sunlight filtered through large windows into the living room, where two small sofas and two armchairs upholstered in faded floral patterns created a calm, relaxing space—that is if one ignored the obvious signs of a physical struggle.

The tipped-over coffee table and pieces of a glass vase scattered across the tiled floor were the first signs. The small female shoe print against the wall leading to the back of the house and the scuff marks on the tiles could be evidence of Nina being taken against her will.

“Oh, Nina.” Victoriya walked into the living room, holding a framed photo against her chest. She handed it to Colin. “That was taken last Christmas.”

Colin took the photo and held it so I could see. Three women stood with their arms around each other, laughing. Victoriya was on the left, Vera on the right and an older woman between them. The familial resemblance was unmistakable. Nina held herself with quiet grace, her styled grey hair framing a face adorned with subtle makeup that enhanced her natural beauty. Dressed in jeans, an elegant silk blouse and an olive-green jacket, she exuded timeless sophistication and refined taste.

“What a lovely photo of three beautiful women.” Colin handed the photo back. “Tell us more about Nina.”

We’d followed Evgeni and Victoriya to this house in our sedan. Victoriya had told us she would spend the journey phoning all her aunt’s friends and even her aunt’s hairdresser and favourite massage salon to find out if Nina was with them. She wasn’t. Once Manny had updated Francine and Yordan, our journey here had been in silence.

“She turned seventy last year and we had a party for her at a local restaurant. The owner and all the waiters refused to believe it was her seventieth. She has so much vibrance and zest for life still.” Tears filled Victoriya’s eyes. “She’s the smartest person I know, she’s tech savvy and disliked by many men who found her intimidating. She loved her job at BNB. Did you know that our currency, the Lev, means ‘lion’? She always joked that it was her job to tame and protect the lions.”

“Doc.” Manny waited until I looked at him. “Go through the house. Maybe you see something we didn’t.”

I nodded.

Colin joined me as we walked through the compact, three-bedroom house. The backdoor bore marks of being opened by force, a broken coffee pot with coffee staining the wall and floor signs that Nina might have been in the kitchen when they came in. The rest of the house appeared untouched and I saw nothing that could give us any information on what had happened or who had broken in.

I walked back into the living room and looked around. The front door had been locked when Victoriya had unlocked it with her key. The intruders had entered and left through the kitchen door. Was there a reason Nina had fought to get into this room? Did she want to reach the front door to make her escape?

“Dude, check this out.” Vinnie was staring at the glass-covered display case. “Is that real antique or fake antique?”

“It’s not real.” Victoriya was still clutching the Christmas photo to her chest as she walked closer. “Nina bought that at some market just after she retired. She knew it was a fake, but she liked the look of it. Neither Vera nor I like it. It isn’t even a pretty fake.”

Vinnie leaned even closer. “Because it’s more than just a clock.”

“What do you mean?” Victoriya frowned at the timepiece.

Vinnie opened the glass door and lifted the clock. He pointed at the ornate brass decoration along the top of the clock. “That, my dudes... that is a nanny cam.”

“Why?” Victoriya stared at the lens that was not even half a centimetre in diameter. “Did she think she was in danger? Why would she have this?”

“To make our lives easier.” Vinnie took out his phone, but Manny’s rang before Vinnie touched his screen.

Manny swiped his phone’s screen. “You’re on speakerphone.”

“Did you find Nina?” Francine’s voice was tense.

Vinnie took a step closer to Manny and leaned towards his phone. “She’s not here, but I just found a spy camera in a clock.”

“Ooh, fabulous.” Francine’s tone lacked her usual excitement.

I couldn’t wait any longer. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember Yordan said he was going to look for footage of Vera’s kidnapping? Well, he found footage of them driving out of the city. The car’s registration plates are obscured, so we can’t ID the car, but we can clearly see Vera in the backseat.”

“Show me.” Victoriya’s knuckles were white as her grip tightened on the framed photo. “I want to see it.”

“Does anyone have their tablet with them?” Francine asked.

“I have my tablet.” Victoriya put the photo down and took a medium-sized tablet from her handbag. “Send it to me.”

“Done.” No sooner had Francine said it than the tablet pinged.

Victoriya walked to me and tapped on her screen, holding it for me to see. It was a short video clip showing a dark grey car passing the camera that looked like it was at the entrance of a petrol station. The car passed so quickly that the video stopped five seconds after it started.

“Set the playback as slow as you can,” Colin said.

She did that and tapped on the play icon again. The nose of the grey car entered the screen, and Colin, Victoriya, and I leaned in. Two burly men, their faces clearly visible, were sitting in the front. Only part of the third man in the back seat was visible because Vera was sitting on the side of the camera. She was looking out of the window, fear etched on every centimetre of her face.

“Vera.” Victoriya’s voice was hoarse with emotion. She pressed play again and we watched the video three more times.

“Got it.” The triumph in Vinnie’s voice pulled me back to the present. He was holding a small device between his thumb and index finger, the clock lying in pieces on the sofa. He looked at Victoriya. “Do you have an Android phone?”

She shook her head.

“I do.” Evgeni gave Vinnie his phone. “Isn’t the footage on a cloud?”

“I don’t think so.” Vinnie used the short cable on the camera to connect it to the phone. “These models are a bit old and record on SD cards. Depending on the size of the card inside, we might have hours, days or weeks of footage here.” He swiped the phone a few times, then grunted. “Got it. Let me download... thi.. I wi.. se.. There.”

“That wasn’t a sentence, Vin.” Colin huffed a laugh as all our phones pinged. He swiped the screen of his phone and held it for me and Victoriya to see.

The quality was not exceptional, but there was no mistaking the woman running into the living room. It was Victoriya’s aunt, Nina. It was just as easy to recognise the two men who rushed in after her and caught her before she even reached the sofa. They were the same two men I had just seen in the front seats of the car driving Vera out of the city.

On the recording, Nina shouted in Bulgarian. Whatever she was shouting in a pleading tone surprised the two men. When the shorter of the two adjusted his grip on her arm, she kicked out wildly. A sharp phrase fell from his mouth when her booted foot connected with his thigh. He grabbed her ankle and shook so hard, I wondered if she suffered any injuries.

I was most fascinated by her nonverbal cues. The fear and anger didn’t surprise me. The flashes of determination and hope, however, were not what I’d expected to see from a seventy-year-old woman being accosted by two strong men.

She looked straight at the camera and shouted something. At that exact moment, the larger man bellowed at her as he roughly grabbed her arm. The other man grabbed her other arm and they dragged her towards the kitchen.

“Nina.” Victoriya pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. “Who are these people? Where have they taken Nina?”

“What did they say to her?” Daniel asked.

Nina shook her head and walked over to the sofa. She picked up the photo and hugged it to her chest as she sat down.

Evgeni walked closer, his face tight with anger. “Play it again. I’ll tell you what those fuckers said.”

Colin played the short clip again through to the end. And again.

By now, Evgeni’s breathing was erratic and his lips were pressed in a thin line. “They kept asking her where the flash drive was. They asked her what her stupid bitch niece did with the drive.” Evgeni’s lips twitched. “I’ve known Nina for a long time. I’ve never seen her pretend to be stupid. Not like this. She begged them not to rape her, not to eat her, not to sell her for sex. The big man told her she’s too ugly and old for sex.”

“Did you hear what she said when she looked at the camera?” I asked.

“When she... I didn’t see that.”

Colin played the footage again and we watched in silence. Evgeni shook his head. “I can’t hear her. That’s when the big man told her she’s too old.”

“I’ll play with the sound and clean that up.” Yordan’s voice coming over Manny’s phone surprised most of us. “Victoriya? We’ll find both of them. We have so much more now to work with.”

She didn’t respond. She just hugged the photo closer, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter FOURTEEN

“We don’t have time for this.” Victoriya’s voice came out strangled with stress. “Vera has only three hours. Three hours! Then the lack of cortisol and aldosterone in her body is going to cause severe weakness, low blood pressure and worse. Her body doesn’t have the ability to manage stress or maintain her blood pressure.”

“We know, Victoriya.” Yasmine glanced towards the kitchen, where Vinnie and Yordan were preparing food. “It’s been almost eight hours since any of us ate anything. That includes you. Just because we’re going to have a quick meal, doesn’t mean we will stop looking for your sister.”

We’d arrived at the house to find Yordan already busy preparing sandwiches. Vinnie had rushed over to help and we’d joined Francine at the table.

She pointed at the laptops and tablets in front of her. “We’ve been working nonstop.” She looked at me. “I did what you asked and with Yordan’s help found the phones that were in the vicinity when Nina was taken. We compared those with the ones from Vera’s kidnapping and found the same three burner phones were at both kidnappings.”

“That’s great news.” Yasmine gestured for Victoriya to sit down and smiled when she reluctantly did. “We can trace those phones.”

“They’re turned off at the moment.” Yordan walked to the table, carrying a tray with four plates. “I’m running a programme that will let me know the moment they’re powered up. Francine, you’d better make room for your plate. This will be the best sandwiches you’ve ever had.”

Vinnie put a plate in front of me. “I made yours, Jen-girl.”

I nodded my thanks and looked at the oversized sandwich. The bread looks homemade. I’d overheard Yordan telling Vinnie about a local bakery that sold out within an hour of opening in the mornings. People queued for the first batch of bread, fresh from the large ovens in the back of the bakery. Those unlucky enough to be at the back of the queue continued waiting for the next batch.

Finding Vera, and now Nina, was much more urgent than my questions about hygiene. I forced Mozart’s Violin Sonata No. 17 in C major into my mind and relaxed as the piano took the lead in the lively and spirited Allegro Vivace.

Francine took a large bite of her sandwich and groaned. She nodded her appreciation to Yordan as he sat down next to her.

“I know, right?” He pushed out his chest, raised his chin and looked down at Vinnie. “My sandwich-making skills are superior to any little pasta you can cook.”

Vinnie narrowed his eyes in faux offence. “You’ll eat your words, puny little geeky computer man.”

“Not in this life, overgrown big wanna-be chef.”

They grinned at each other.

“Boys, boys.” Francine put her half-eaten sandwich down and used her napkin to wipe her hands and dab her mouth. She turned to Victoriya. “Why don’t I tell you what else I found while you eat?”

The First Lady looked from Yordan to Vinnie to Francine and nodded.

“Okey, dokey.” My best friend pulled her laptop closer. “Not only did we find the three numbers of the burner phones that we know now belong to those douche bags that took your sister. We found a fourth number.” She looked at Colin. “It is registered to Konstantin Khristov.”

Colin’s eyebrows shot up and he dropped his sandwich on the plate in front of him. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I double-checked.”

“I’m the one who didn’t include him at first.” Yordan winced. “I didn’t think he fitted the profile of a kidnapper.”

Manny rapped his knuckles on the table. “Who the bloody hell is this Chris Christofferson?”

“Konstantin Khristov.” Colin shook his head at Manny. “He’s a well-respected art dealer, who specialises in exclusive art in Central and Eastern Europe.” His frown deepened. “I really can’t imagine he would be involved in any of this. I’ve never heard even the slightest hint that he might be connected to any crime. Most galleries consider him a pain because he’s so meticulous in keeping records and authenticating anything he buys or sells.”

“We will need to speak to him, Frey.” Manny lifted the second half of his sandwich. “As soon as possible.”

A jarring ringtone came from Manny’s phone and he glared at it. He put his sandwich back on his plate, swiped the screen and tapped the speakerphone icon. “Yes?”

“Colonel Millard? This is Petar Govedarov. We met this morning at the gallery.”

“Yes?”

“We need to meet again.”

“Why?”

“I’m at the gallery now. Can you meet me here?”

“If you answer my bloody question, I will consider it.”

“I have a person here who has vital information that will help your search.”

“Does this person have a name?”

It was silent for a few seconds. “Konstantin Khristov.”

Manny’s eyes widened. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“That’s a bit spooky.” Yordan crossed his arms. “If I didn’t check an hour ago to make sure there weren’t any listening devices, I would be convinced we were being bugged.”

Manny got up and pointed at Yordan and Francine. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” He turned to Victoriya and Evgeni. “Stay here and help them.” Then he snapped his fingers at me. “Up and at it, Doc.”

Colin and I were the only ones who did not take our sandwiches with us. Yasmine stayed behind to provide extra security and help Yordan and Francine in any way she could. By the time we got into the spacious sedan, Vinnie and Manny had already finished their sandwiches and Daniel stuffed the last bite into his mouth. I shuddered at the thought of eating so much, so fast.

This time, Colin kept pace with faster cars, breaking the speed limit, but not attracting attention. I ignored the conversation around me, mentally turned up the volume of Mozart’s sonata and went over all the information we’d gathered thus far. My concern for Vera’s health was growing. We were about to run out of time. According to Victoriya’s timeline, her sister would be in critical need of her medication in less than three hours.

Colin stopped in front of the gallery and we rushed to the door. A handwritten sign in Bulgarian hung on the door that didn’t budge when Vinnie pushed against it. He knocked loudly on the glass and stood back.

Daniel rested his hand on his holstered weapon. Vinnie did the same.

“Someone’s coming.” Colin narrowed his eyes to see into the dark interior. “Looks like Petar.”

The investigative journalist hurried to the door and unlocked it. “You’re faster than I expected. Come in.”

He waited until we were all inside, then locked the door again. “You owe the gallery owner a bottle of very expensive wine for closing it so we can meet here.” He looked at Colin. “It would be great if you could organise an exclusive exhibition here. Maybe get the First Lady to bring all the rich and famous to support this gallery.”

Colin nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’re in the back.” Petar gestured towards the chairs where we’d spoken this morning. “Nowadays, most journalists use these highly secure and encrypted apps as well as the darknet to contact and be contacted by sources. So it didn’t surprise me when Konstantin contacted me this morning on Signal asking to meet. What did surprise me was what he told me.”

He stopped and turned to me. “I spoke to Bree Reuben again. She assured me that I can trust you and your team implicitly. It’s not in my nature to trust, so I hope she is right about you.”

Bree was an investigative journalist we’d met years ago on a case in Prague. Since then, she had become a friend to all of us, but had grown especially close to Manny.

“You didn’t make a mistake contacting us.” Colin took my hand and nodded towards the back. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but we’re pushed for time.”

“Because you need to find the president’s sister-in-law who’s been kidnapped.” Petar crossed his arms. “You didn’t tell me about it this morning and I only suspected something bad had happened to Vera.”

“What do you know?” I could clearly see it on his face.

He looked at me for two seconds, then stepped aside. “I’ll let Konstantin tell you.”

The man waiting for us by the seating area was in his mid- to late-forties. Everything about him communicated sophisticated confidence, from his bespoke rust-coloured suit, his blue dress shirt and matching pocket square to his neatly trimmed hair and beard.

His eyes widened in recognition and he held out his hand to greet Colin. “I’m delighted to meet you. Oh, my. Your team’s work is just amazing.” He turned to Manny. “You must be Colonel Millard. A true pleasure. I didn’t know you were in town.”

Manny shook his hand, then pushed both hands into his trouser pockets. “We’re not here.”

“We are,” I blurted before I registered Manny’s expression. I sighed. “Oh.”

Konstantin smiled warmly at me. “Doctor Lenard. I’ve heard only good things about all the work this team does for the art community. I can’t tell you what an honour it is to meet you and that I might be able to help you stop all this bullshit in Bulgaria.”

“What bullshit?” Manny asked.

“Do you know about the corporate raiding happening here?” He touched his pocket square as if to adjust it. “It’s such a blot on this country. Do you know who Dimitar Iva... oh, you do. Well, then you know more than most.”

“Hurry it up.” Manny gestured impatiently with his hand.

Konstantin smiled. “To the point. I like it. Okay, so Ivanov has been trying to strong-arm his way into my business. For the last six months, he’s been upping the pressure to get me to sell my business. It’s taken me thirteen years to build a reputation of honesty and integrity. I will never sell to a mobster like Ivanov.”

“He wants to use your business to launder his money,” Colin stated.

“Exactly. Look, I don’t know the details of that man’s criminal empire, but I’m pretty sure that he’s using his filthy, dirty money to purchase high-value artworks. I don’t know what he does with it then, but the most common thing they do is store the art in tax-free ports or warehouses to avoid customs checks and taxes. That way, he can sell and resell and resell it to layer the transactions. That will obscure his not-legal funds’ origins.”

“Give us something we don’t know.” Manny looked pointedly at the pocket square peeking from Konstantin’s suit jacket pocket. “Why do you keep touching your pocket?”

Konstantin swallowed and reached into the inside of his jacket, then held out a micro-SD card. “I have footage here, but let me explain a bit first. When Ivanov started pushing harder to buy my business, I got really pissed off. I tried to hire a private detective, but they are all too scared of him. That’s when I heard he is known as the emperor of counterfeit goods. His goons go around threatening innocent people to get what he wants.

“I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. Three of his gorillas came to my house. My house!” He huffed in outrage. “That was the last straw. I decided that I was going to find something—anything—to make him stop focusing on me. So I staked out the headquarters of his business. It didn’t take long before I saw his three goons coming and going. I followed them and I went fully armed.” He raised his chin. “With the best camera on the market. I took photos and videos of every place they visited.”

The fear and horror on his face told me everything I needed to know. “What did you see?”

“They kidnapped a woman. In broad daylight. Right in front of me.” He pulled at his collar and swallowed again. “I didn’t know it was the First Lady’s sister. Not until I watched the footage again.”

“You recorded it.” Manny held out his hand. “Let’s have it.”

He handed Manny the small SD card. “I didn’t know who to tell or what to do. The three private investigators who refused to help me told me that Ivanov controls the government and the police. I wasn’t going to put my family in any more danger by reporting this.” He looked at Vinnie and Daniel. “You’re going to stop him, right? You’re going to find the First Lady’s sister and stop Ivanov.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do.” Colin held his hand out to Manny. “Let me put that in my phone.”

“No need.” Konstantin walked to one of the chairs and picked up a tablet. “You can watch it here.”

He tapped the screen and turned it for us to see. The footage started before I was mentally prepared. Adrenaline rushed through my body as I recognised Vera from the Christmas photo in Nina’s house. She was talking on her phone and laughing. Her expression changed when she noticed two men, dressed all in black, walking towards her. She glanced behind her and said something urgently into the phone when she noticed a third man blocking her in.

The men rushed forward and she threw her phone under the car closest to her. One man grabbed her arm, but she struggled fiercely, shouting towards the phone. A second man slapped her hard across the face. The shock of that violent act silenced her and brought darkness into my peripheral vision. My breathing grew shallow as I watched them drag her off to a dark sedan and push her inside.

The sudden sound of a ringtone startled all of us. Manny grunted and looked at his phone’s screen. He swiped it and pressed the device against his ear. “Yes?”

His eye widened, then his nostrils flared as he uttered a string of swear words. “We’re on our way.”

Chapter FIFTEEN

“What the holy hell happened?” Manny held out his phone to the centre of the car.

We’d rushed out of the gallery and were driving towards an address Francine had sent to Colin’s phone.

“I cleaned up the audio from Nina’s kidnapping.” The tension in Francine’s voice made her sound almost breathless. “The moment Victoriya heard what Nina had shouted when she’d looked directly at the nanny cam, she jumped up and ran to the front door.”

“I tried to stop her,” Yasmine’s voice came over the phone. “Evgeni also tried to stop her. He told her that it was stupid to go anywhere without backup, without more protection. She wasn’t listening. He finally convinced her that he would drive her wherever she wanted to go as long as she told us where she was going.”

“She said she’s going to Vera’s apartment and no one can stop her.” Francine exhaled heavily. “She ran out and I phoned you.”

Manny looked at the navigation screen on the dashboard. “We should be there in seven minutes.”

“They might already be there.” Yordan’s voice was a bit muffled. “I’m checking their possible ETA and if Evgeni drove like I know he does, they’re either almost there or already there.”

“What the bloody hell did Nina say?” Manny’s words were clipped with anger.

“She was shouting mostly in Bulgarian,” Francine said.

“I’m shocked that an old lady can swear that much.” Yordan sounded impressed rather than shocked. “I don’t think you need to know all the things she wished on those men. But when she looked at the clock camera, she said two words in English. She said they’re worse than cat shit.”

“‘Cat shit’ were the two English words,” Francine added. “I’m still not sure what Victoriya understood from those two words, but it made her want to go to Vera’s apartment.”

“We’re almost there.” Colin turned onto another leafy street lined with small houses and elegant apartment buildings no more than four stories high, boutique cafés, bakeries and vegan restaurants on the ground floor spilling out onto the pavement.

Further down the street, a wall surrounded another apartment building, offering it more privacy. Colin turned into the property and frowned. “I’m sure this gate isn’t supposed to be open.”

“That’s Evgeni’s car.” Daniel pointed at the dank blue sedan parked haphazardly next to a familiar-looking grey sedan.

“Oh.” Darkness flooded my peripheral vision and I shook my finger at the car, struggling to get words past my frozen lips. “Grey. Oh. Oh. Oh. They. Oh. Oh.”

Muted pops sounded from the side of the building.

“Fuck!” Vinnie opened his door. “That’s an assault rifle with a suppressor.”

“Get down and bloody stay down!” Manny slapped my shoulder and followed Vinnie and Daniel out of our car.

I couldn’t get my body to move, even though Manny’s light slap had jarred me out of my stuttering. Colin grabbed my arm and pulled, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the three men emerging from the shadows beside the building. Their faces were obscured with dark masks, but their body language exuded menace and violence.

The two men at the back had Victoriya between them, holding her so tightly under her arms that it appeared as if they were lifting her off her feet. I blinked in confusion at her lack of resistance. There was no mistaking the terror on her face, yet she moved almost compliantly, occasionally pretending to resist.

The moment the leader noticed Vinnie and Daniel next to our sedan, he viciously grabbed Victoriya and pressed his weapon firmly against her temple. Her face grew even paler, but she held herself completely still, her expression a strange mix of fear and hope. The leader said something and the other two immediately started shooting at us.

Colin jerked hard on my arm and threw himself over me when it sounded like hailstones were hitting our BMW. I stared at his foot uselessly pressing down on the brake pedal while trying to keep the darkness at bay. Already, I could feel the calm of a shutdown beckoning me. I shook my head and couldn’t stop.

A male voice shouted in Bulgarian and Victoriya said something I couldn’t make out. Car doors slammed and an engine roared to life. Somehow, it was Daniel swearing when tyres screeched and the sound of the engine grew faint that grounded me and I could stop shaking my head.

“Jenny?” Colin shook my shoulder. “Love, are you hurt?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I forced an empty music sheet into my mind and mentally drew the G-clef with slow precision. Then the F-clef. Then F-sharp, C-sharp and G-sharp. I exhaled slowly and brought my focus back to my body. “I’m uninjured.”

Colin helped me up and studied me. “Okay?”

“No.” I wasn’t. Who would be after being shot at? “Vinnie? Man—?”

“No one was hit.” He frowned and shook his head. “They only shot up our cars.”

“Jen-girl!” Vinnie jerked open my door, his eyes wide with concern. “Dude, are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine, Vin.” Colin nodded towards the street. “They got away?”

“Motherfuckers shot out our tyres. We’re not going anywhere soon.” Vinnie’s nostrils flared as he stared at the street where they’d left.

“Vin, you know we couldn’t engage.” Daniel still had his weapon in his hand and bumped Vinnie’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. We’ll find all of them.”

Colin turned his attention back to me. “Are you okay to get out?”

I considered my answer. “Yes. We should find Evgeni. And we should go through Vera’s apartment.”

“I agree, Doc.” Manny was standing behind Vinnie. “Now get your arse out of that car.”

I turned to get out, but was jerked back to my seat. Vinnie chuckled and pointed. “Your seatbelt, Jen-girl.”

I grunted and pressed the release. By the time I got out, Colin was already standing next to Manny, both of them looking at the tyres.

I hadn’t counted the shots, but I could see no other bullet holes in the BMW. It appeared that they had shot both tyres on my side with excellent precision. Even though the gunfire had been suppressed, it hadn’t been quiet. I was surprised that no one had come out or that there was no sound of sirens coming closer.

Vinnie pointed to Evgeni’s vehicle. “The fuckers did the same there.”

“Where’s Evgeni?” I thought about Victoriya’s nonverbal cues and couldn’t recall any sadness. “We need to find him.”

The men didn’t holster their weapons as we walked to the side of the apartment building. Daniel took the lead, Manny followed him and Vinnie was at the back. We found a side door that was still open and entered the building.

“Vera’s apartment is on the second floor.” Manny pointed to the stairs. “Let’s follow their footsteps and see what the bleeding hell happened.”

As we rushed up the stairs, I was greatly relieved to see no blood stains or to find Evgeni gravely injured. We reached the second floor and Manny put out his hand to stop us. “Let Daniel clear it first. Vin, go with him.”

Vinnie took the stairs two at a time to get past us. He tapped Daniel on the shoulder and the emergency response team leader opened the stairwell door. I grabbed Colin’s hand and mentally wrote the first two bars of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 12 in A major. I had barely finished the opening descending semiquavers when Vinnie opened the door. “All clear. Evgeni is alive and kicking.”

We rushed through the spacious hallway towards the third door that stood open. The floor was quiet. Either everyone was at work or no one wanted to get involved.

I gasped when we walked into the apartment. It appeared that Dimitar Ivanov’s men had savagely searched for something here. Most likely the drive they’d mentioned before they took Nina.

“Holy bloody hellfire.” Manny pinched the bridge of his nose and walked deeper into the apartment. The once pristine space with sleek furnishing and minimalist décor, now laid in disarray. Drawers were pulled out, their contents scattered on the floor, cushions were tossed aside and the sofa’s innards ripped out. It appeared that every piece of furniture had been upturned and searched.

“They didn’t find it.” Evgeni walked in, followed by Daniel. The Bulgarian man was livid as he rubbed the side of his head.

“Are you injured?” I couldn’t see blood, but pain was etched around his mouth.

“They hit me hard on my head. Knocked me out.”

“How do you know they didn’t find the thumb drive?” Colin asked.

“Because when we got here, they were arguing about where else to look.” Evgeni stumbled and grabbed onto the back of the sofa. “I’m still a bit lightheaded.”

“You might have a concussion, dude.”

“I’ll worry about that when I get Victoriya back.” Anger flashed across his face.

I frowned. “Why are you angry with her?”

He said something in Bulgarian that I assumed was strong language. “That stupid woman wanted to be taken.”

“What the fuck, dude!”

“For the love of the saints.” Manny rubbed both hands over his face. “What the hell happened?”

“Like I said, we could hear them speaking. I wanted to call you guys and wait, but she told me she had a better idea. Before I could stop her, she rushed into the apartment and ran straight to the bathroom. She locked herself in there. Like an idiot, I came in after her, but it was three against one.”

“They didn’t shoot you.” Daniel narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

Evgeni stared at him for two seconds. “I’m choosing not to take offence, because it’s a good question. One of them shot me with a stun gun, and then a second one hit me over the head. I came to when Daniel was shaking me.”

“Why the bleeding, holy hell did she want them to take her?” Manny paced to the front door and back. “Does she have her phone on her? Did she take some tracker in the hopes they will take her to Vera and we will find them?”

Evgeni shook his head, immediately wincing. “I think she wanted time in the bathroom to get Vera’s meds. I also think she wanted them to take her to Vera, but rescue was not at the top of her list.”

“Bloody woman.” Manny walked back to the front door, shaking his head. He swung around and shook a finger at me. “Find that blasted thumb drive, Doc.”

I didn’t move. Instead, I looked at Evgeni. “Did Victoriya tell you why Nina shouting about cat faeces was so important to her?”

“Cat what?” Evgeni frowned.

“Cat shit, dude.” Vinnie grinned at me. “Say it as it is, Jen-girl.”

“I did.”

Vinnie chuckled, then turned to Evgeni. “So?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t. All the way here, she was staring out of the window and refused to answer any of my questions. Finally, she said that Nina taught them well.”

“That tells us nothing.” Manny snapped his fingers at me, then at Colin. “Go with her. Find that bloody thing. Start in the bedroom and bathroom. We’ll check here.”

Colin and I walked deeper into the apartment, leaving the others behind. Colin stopped in front of the first door to our left. “I think Ivanov is desperate to get his hands on the thumb drive. I also think that Vera is not cooperating and he’s now using her most vulnerable spots against her. Threatening Nina and now Victoriya might just get Vera to talk.”

“When she does, none of them will be useful any longer.” A shudder went down my spine. “Victoriya’s plan to get Vera’s medication to her might be a good one. It gives us more time to find them.”

“But if Vera tells Ivanov where the thumb drive is, it won’t matter that she has her meds. Time will be up for all three of them.”

I swallowed and pushed the piano concerto back into my mind. “The sooner we find the drive, the sooner we might have more data that could help us find them.”

So I hoped.

Colin opened the door to reveal a bedroom. Like the living room, it had been overturned and ripped and brutally damaged. I left him to it and walked to the door hanging on one hinge.

Boot prints and splintered dents in the door told me it had been broken down by force to get to Victoriya. I walked into the bathroom and frowned. Tablets laid scattered across the floor and vanity. Did Victoriya manage to take any of Vera’s meds before they’d broken down the door and taken her?

I thought back to her expression and wondered if the determination that had accompanied the fear on her face meant that she’d succeeded in her plan.

I left the bathroom and opened the door next to it. Immediately, I stepped back, my top lip curled in disgust. That was the smell of a litter box. I looked around, then leaned over to look at the corner of the hallway.

I almost smiled when I noticed the cat hair.

Pets are known to improve humans’ mental health and happiness, but their hair would cause me unparalleled levels of distress. I moved back to the door I’d opened. A small pet door had been added at the bottom, undoubtedly to give the cat or cats access to their bathroom. This room also served as a small laundry, with a tumble dryer stacked on a washing machine.

“Colin.”

“Yes, love?” He came out of the bedroom and wrinkled his nose. “That doesn’t smell good.”

I didn’t have to wait long.

His eyebrows shot up. “It smells like cat shit. Millard! I found the cat shit!”

The men rushed towards us, which made the hallway feel overcrowded. I stepped away and pointed at the litter box. It would be the perfect place to hide something you didn’t want people to find.

“Where are they?” Daniel looked around. He had two cats and Yasmine loved them. As did everyone else. I tolerated them because they seldom came close to me. “I hope they’re safe.”

“We can worry about the cats later.” Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “Go on then.” He looked at Vinnie, then looked pointedly at the litterbox. “See if that bloody thumb drive is in there.”

“Dude.” Vinnie’s face pulled in an expression as if he’d just eaten a lemon. He shook his shoulders and pushed Manny aside. “The things I do for you. Never say I don’t love you, old man.”

“Oh, bugger off.” Manny took a few steps back.

“Use the poop scoop, Vin.” Daniel chuckled at Vinnie’s obvious revulsion. “It’s just digested food.”

“Not helping, dude.” Vinnie picked up the pink plastic tool and started sifting through the litter. “I’m going to have nightmares for months. I need danger pay for this. Ooh, what’s this?” He lifted the scoop and uttered a heaving sound as he dropped it back in the box. “Poop. Crap. Shit. Dude. Urgh. This is fuc... Got it!”

This time, it was not organic waste that was on the scoop. Inside a transparent plastic bag that was sealed numerous times with clear tape was a thumb drive.

Chapter SIXTEEN

“It’s encrypted.” Francine looked up from her laptop. “I’m running my super-duper programme to decrypt it. Give it a few minutes.”

We were back at the house. I’d been impressed at how fast Evgeni had organised new tyres for our vehicles. After we’d found the thumb drive, Manny had insisted we make sure that there wasn’t anything else in the apartment that could help us locate the women. There wasn’t. By the time we’d gone downstairs, the repairmen were fitting the last tyre on our sedan.

Manny scratched his stubbled jaw. Then he huffed an annoyed breath. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but did you hack President Kostant?”

Francine frowned for a second, then rolled her eyes. “Konstadinov. President Galin Konstadinov. Victoriya’s husband.” She raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “Of course, I did.”

“And?”

“And there have been fifteen million other things happening and I haven’t had enough time to dig deep enough.” She shook her index finger at the thumb drive plugged into her laptop. “You keep bringing me little gifts, which is very distracting.”

“Francine.” Manny’s tone was low and reproving.

Her shoulders slumped. “I haven’t yet done a deep dive into his comings and goings in the last six months. I’ve got my system decrypting this thumb drive, I cleaned up the footage from Nina’s kidnapping, and Yordan and I have been searching for any more footage of the grey car that took the three women.”

“You’re always doing so much more than we really know.” Colin sat down across from her at the dining table. “Thank you.”

She sniffed and glared at Manny. “You’re welcome.”

His scowl intensified. “What did you find?”

“Nothing illegal. I didn’t go into government documents or top-secret emails, but I looked through the president’s private communication and finances. Everything looks boring. Legal.”

“Bloody hell.” Manny walked the few steps to the sofas and paced back. “Doc? What do you think?”

I stared at him. “About what?”

“The bloody wife of the bloody president was kidnapped right in front of us.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Should we inform him?”

“No.” Evgeni’s answer was immediate and strong. He leaned back in the seat he’d taken next to Yordan when we turned as one to look at him. “He’ll find out eventually, but we don’t know if we can trust him.”

“Are you in love with Victoriya?” Yasmine studied him for a second, then looked at me. “Is he?”

I shook my head and pointed at Evgeni’s face. “His micro-expressions when you asked him that question showed anger and disgust.” I sat down next to Colin and turned my attention to Evgeni. “You care deeply for her, even more than what is conventional in society, but you’re not interested in her romantically.”

The more I spoke, the more Evgeni stilled until he appeared frozen. He looked around the large dining room table and finally sighed. “Only Yordan and Victoriya know.”

“That you’re gay?” Vinnie shrugged. “Dude! I knew that after five minutes around you.”

Evgeni’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Vinnie. Finally, he shook his head. “Usually, people assume Yordan is gay and I’m a womaniser.”

“Just because I dress better than most models, paint my nails and wear makeup, doesn’t mean I’m gay.” Yordan’s lips thinned in anger. “People and their stupid preconceived ideas and judgmental attitudes.”

Evgeni turned to Yasmine. “Why did you ask?”

“I can see how much you love Victoriya.” Yasmine’s expression softened. “Can you be objective about her husband?”

“Yes and no.” He took a moment to consider his answer. “No, because I’ve known Galin since the day he started dating Victoriya. I like him and I trust him... well, I trusted him until Victoriya saw him befriending Ivanov. It really shocked me because Galin has been one of the most trustworthy people I’ve met. His political career introduced me to politicians and I’m convinced he’s the only honest politician I’ve met. Until recently.”

“Why do you think we shouldn’t tell him about the kidnappings?” Yasmine asked.

“Because I don’t know where I stand with him at the moment. I want to trust the man I thought I knew, but his connection to Ivanov... I don’t trust that.”

“Good enough for me.” Manny took his phone from his trouser pocket. “I’m going to update our president. And ask him why the bloody hell he sent us into this snake pit.”

“Well, he didn’t really send us, now did he?” Francine mumbled as Manny walked away.

“I’m making dinner.” Vinnie opened the fridge. “We need to eat properly because I reckon this is going to be one mofo of a night.”

“Ooh, yes please.” Yordan fluttered his mascaraed eyelashes at Vinnie. “I will declare my undying love for you if you feed me pasta. Any kind of pasta. As long as there is also a lot of cheese.”

Vinnie grinned. “Cheesy pasta it is then.”

“Since Mr Grumpy-pants is gone, I’ll tell you what Yordan and I found.” Francine smiled at Yordan. “Do you want to tell them?”

“With pleasure.” He turned his laptop screen for us to see. “These are the three gorillas who kidnapped our women.”

On the screen were profile photos of three men. There was nothing distinctive about them—no scars, no tattoos, nothing. Just three men who stared at the camera with a hostility that sent a small injection of adrenaline through my system. They were aggressors.

“Who are they?” Colin asked.

“Yosif Kynev, Delian Meston and Boris Kadiev.” Yordan turned the laptop back and used the cordless mouse to navigate something. “All three of them are registered taxpayers, employed by Pirin Group.”

“The president’s company.” Daniel leaned back in his chair. “The same company that wanted to take over Vera’s business? Huh.”

“It’s beginning to look to me as if Ivanov snatched the president’s company from under his nose and is using it to do all kinds of illegal business.” Yordan looked at Evgeni. “I really hope I’m right. I also like Galin.”

Evgeni just shook his head.

I thought about this new information. “Did you follow their financial transactions?”

“I was about to when you guys arrived. Wanna help me?” Francine typed on her laptop. “I’m sending you everything I have.”

My phone pinged with a notification, but this was not the type of work to do on my phone. I shifted to move my chair back, but Colin got up. “Were you going to get your laptop?” He smiled when I nodded. “I want to get mine too. Give me a minute.”

He hurried to the stairs leading to our bedrooms, but turned back when Manny rushed past him into the living area. “Bloody politicians.”

This was not Manny’s usual irritated tone or body language. He was livid as he stormed to us and threw his phone on the table. It bounced once and slid towards the edge. Daniel caught it before it fell to the tiled floor. “Bad news?”

“Of course, it’s bloody bad news!” Manny rubbed his hands over his face and sat down hard next to Francine. “Apologies, Daniel. I’m just so bloody angry with this new president.”

“I thought we decided that we like him.” Yasmine wrinkled her nose. “Don’t we like him anymore?”

Manny glared at her. “Not at the bloody moment.”

“Take a few breaths, old man.” Vinnie walked to the table and put a mug down in front of Manny. “Have some tea.”

Manny glared at the mug. “Did you put enough milk in there?”

“Once!” Vinnie threw his hands in the air, then crossed his arms. “Once I underserved with three measly drops and you haven’t forgiven me since.”

“It’s unforgivable,” Manny mumbled as he picked up the mug. He took a sip and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes, he appeared more composed. He looked at Vinnie, who was staring down at him with barely concealed concern. “It’s tolerable.”

Vinnie just raised one eyebrow and waited.

Manny took another sip and exhaled heavily. “Thank you, big guy.”

“Anytime, old man.” Vinnie rested his hand on Manny’s shoulder and, after a light squeeze, returned to the kitchen.

“What did the president say?” Colin sat down next to me.

Manny took another sip of his tea, then put the mug on the table. “President Beaumont told me that the EU commission, council and parliament are concerned about a recent influx of counterfeit Euros flooding the market. It took a few hard questions, but he finally admitted that Sophie Laurin, the current President of the European Central Bank, is his friend from university. She came to him a few weeks ago after a European Council meeting and asked him if he had any suggestions on figuring out where the money is coming from.”

“Huh.” Yasmine’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “We have an entire department at Europol dedicated to combating euro counterfeiting.”

I leaned closer to study Manny’s expression. “She doesn’t trust Europol.”

Manny grunted. “Beaumont told me that his friend told him she suspects there might be someone in Europol involved in bringing all the fake cash into Europe.”

Yasmine leaned back in her chair, staring at Manny. “That... that makes sense.”

“Let me finish, then you will explain yourself.” Manny waited until Yasmine nodded. “Beaumont said this Sophie asked him not to reveal her suspicions to anyone. He then asked the head of the OCRFM—”

“The what-what?” Yordan asked.

“Office central pour la répression du faux monnayage.” Francine grinned. “The fake money police in France.”

Manny’s lips thinned. “Beaumont asked the head of the OCRFM to look into this. She did and told Beaumont that the majority of recent fake bills have been entering the EU from Bulgaria. So, when he heard that we might be coming here, helping the president’s wife, he hoped we would trip over a crime syndicate and make him look good in the bloody European Parliament. He has his eye on a leadership position in the future.”

“His wish came true. We did indeed trip and fall into a crime syndicate here.” Colin frowned. “Why didn’t he trust us with this? We’ve dealt with more delicate secrets and cases in the past. Counterfeit money is not a mass casualty event.”

“I was losing my temper and considered it wise to end the call and not ask him those questions.” Manny’s expression surprised me.

I blinked a few times. “You ended the call abruptly.”

“If you mean I said a few choice words before slamming the bloody phone in his ear, then yes.” Manny sniffed. “I did that.”

“Oh, honeybuns.” Francine took his hand. “You really miss the days of being able to slam a phone down, don’t you?”

“Hmph.”

“I think we all do.” Yasmine tilted her head, then flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder. “So, about this making sense.” She paused. “We’ve been struggling to get Bulgaria to cooperate with us. They’ve been stonewalling us in the most subtle and effective ways, almost as if someone was telling them how to do it without breaking any laws or agreements or causing an international incident. Or causing too much suspicion.”

“Are we thinking that Ivanov’s reach goes as far as Europol?” Daniel asked. “That would complicate things a lot.”

Loud banging on the front door made me jerk in my chair. As one, Daniel, Manny and Evgeni jumped up, their weapons already in their hands. Vinnie swore as he shoved the lasagna into the oven, shut the door and grabbed his handgun. He rushed over and placed himself between us and the front door.

The banging continued as an angry male voice shouted something in Bulgarian. Evgeni rushed to the front door, Daniel and Manny on his heels.

“Open this door!” The furious English words shocked me. Who was this man who continued shouting in Bulgarian, banging his fist against the solid wooden door? “Where’s my wife? Victoriya!”

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Evgeni jerked the door open just as Daniel ordered him to stand down. It looked as if he hadn’t even heard.

He stood in the open door with his weapon pointed at the floor, staring at the tall man in a black tracksuit. Then he noticed a second man and raised his weapon. “Ilia.”

The second man spoke tersely in Bulgarian to Evgeni, his hands raised.

“What the holy hell is this?” Manny lowered his handgun, but didn’t holster it. He glared at the tall man. “What the hell are you doing here, President?”

“Looking for my wife.” President Galin Kostadinov spoke with a slight accent. He looked past Manny into the house, his gaze settling on us. His expression fell when he didn’t see Victoriya. “Where is she?”

“For the love of all the holy saints.” Manny’s shoulders slumped and he holstered his weapon. “You might as well come in.”

The president of Bulgaria stormed past Evgeni into the house. “Victoriya! Vicky!”

“She’s not here, dude.” Vinnie didn’t holster his weapon as he watched Victoriya’s husband run up the stairs, still calling her name. He turned his attention to the second man, his muscle tension increasing slightly. He glanced at me, narrowing his eyes before looking back at the other man. “Who are you?”

“Ilia Mikushev, the president’s bodyguard.” He nodded at Evgeni and walked towards us. I estimated him to be in his late thirties. His physique was that of a bodybuilder. Spending so much time around Daniel and Vinnie had taught me a lot about general as well as personal security. Skill and speed were far more important than strength. Too many muscles could actually hinder a person in a physical altercation, unless they had exceptional close combat skills.

I narrowed my eyes as I processed the nonverbal cues in the room. Evgeni made no secret of his strong dislike of Ilia, whereas the bodyguard was almost successful in faking nonchalance and confidence. He walked as if he owned this property until he reached the table. He looked at me, then at Colin. “Who are you?”

“None of your business.” Evgeni closed the front door and secured all three locks. “How did you find us?”

Oh, this was interesting. As much as I wanted to follow the financial trail of the three kidnappers, the nonverbal communication in this room might provide more answers.

“She’s not here.” President Kostadinov came down the stairs and walked straight to Evgeni. “Where is she?”

He grabbed Evgeni’s shirt and pulled him until they were standing nose to nose. Although his next few sentences were in Bulgarian, his nonverbal cues communicated his desperation and fear.

Vinnie rolled his eyes at them, holstered his weapon and returned to the kitchen. Daniel also holstered his handgun, but didn’t clip the holster closed. Neither did Manny.

I watched closely as Evgeni raised both his hands in a sign of surrender. “I protected her, Galin. I didn’t put her in danger. You did.”

The president pushed Evgeni so hard that the latter took a few steps back. “What do you mean?”

Evgeni narrowed his eyes. “It’s your new best friend who took her.”

“What are you talking about?” The president’s confusion was genuine. “What best friend?”

“Don’t play stupid, Galin.” Evgeni glanced at Ilia, then sniffed in derision as he looked back at the president. “Dimitar Ivanov.”

Galin staggered to the side. “What? Oh, Vicky. Evgeni, what have you done?”

“Doc?” Manny raised one eyebrow and I nodded. Galin’s shock and fear were real. Manny cleared his throat and gestured towards the table. “Let’s all sit down. We have a lot to tell you.”

Francine and Yordan shifted their chairs closer together and continued working on their laptops. Francine looked at me. “Wanna come sit next to me, bestie?”

I was about to ask her why I would want to do such a thing when I registered her expression. Something was amiss. I nodded and joined her on the other side of the table. Colin also got up and stood behind my chair, his hands resting on my shoulders, grounding me.

Ilia remained standing halfway to the front door and I preferred it that way. There was a lot going on and having him at that distance made it easier for me to read his body language without finding it too overwhelming. Manny and the president pulled out the chairs Colin and I had occupied. They turned slightly to better see each other, but still faced the rest of us.

“Where is my wife?” The president asked again. “Is she missing? Why did Evgeni say Dimitar took her?”

Manny studied the president for a few seconds. “Are you corrupt?”

“What? No!”

“Are you doing business with Ivanov?”

“No.” The president crossed his arms.

I shook my head when Manny looked at me. President Kostadinov was a good liar, but not an excellent one.

Manny lowered his chin and glared at the president. “Don’t bloody lie to us right now. Not if you want us to find your wife.”

Fear flashed across the president’s face. He glanced towards Ilia.

“Does Ivanov have something on you?” Manny narrowed his eyes. “Some sex secret or something to influence this new law about selling businesses?”

The president’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ilia, can you please wait outside?”

The bodyguard nodded once and unlocked the front door. Only when the door closed behind him did the president look back at us. “He’s the only bodyguard I trust, yet not even he knows what I’ve been doing.”

“And what is that?” Francine looked up from her laptop. “Making deals with the devil?”

“Yes.” His answer was not what the others expected.

“Bloody hellfire.” Manny slumped in his chair. “You’d better explain yourself.” His lips thinned as he spat out the words, “Mr President.”

“You might be less angry with me once I’m done talking.” The president looked around the table. “And you might as well call me Galin.”

“We’re listening.” Manny glanced at Francine when she gasped at something on her laptop, typing even faster, her eyes not leaving the monitor.

Galin took a steadying breath. “I’m working with the Director of the GDBOP to bring down Dimitar Ivanov.”

Yordan and Evgeni said the same Bulgarian word at the same time. Their eyes were wide. Yordan grinned as he looked at Galin, then at Manny. “It’s Bulgaria’s FBI.”

“Close enough.” Galin nodded. “It’s the General Directorate for Combating Organised Crime. They operate under the Ministry of Interior and they’re the ones who investigate serious and organised crime at a national level.”

I tilted my head. “Why do you dislike the Ministry of Interior?”

“Because most of them are in Dimitar’s pocket.” He took a moment to study me. “Doctor Lenard, right? Hmm. My people tell me your team is the best and that I can trust you.”

“Your people?” Yasmine spoke for the first time. “And how did you even know to ask about us?”

Guilt flashed across his face. “I think I’ve permanently damaged my marriage. I don’t know if Victoriya will ever forgive me. When I agreed to work with the GDBOP, my one stipulation was that they protect my wife.”

“You’ve been tracking her.” Daniel looked at Francine, then at Yordan. “You didn’t find any bugs here, right?”

“You wouldn’t have,” Galin said. “We tracked her phone. I refused to give them permission to listen in on her calls or read her messages, but I needed to know where she was at all times. They reported that she returned from France with guests and I had them find out who those guests were. Turns out it’s an elite investigative team.

“When she didn’t come home tonight and didn’t answer her phone, I became worried. The GDBOP didn’t know where she was. Her phone had been turned off. It had been my request that they didn’t follow her closely, but were near enough in case she needed help.”

Daniel frowned. “That’s not how personal security works. Doesn’t she have a dedicated security detail?”

Galin’s lips contracted into a thin line as he glanced at Evgeni. “She insisted that he was enough. She didn’t want an entourage whenever she met with a client. Anyway, Ilia and I checked her sister’s and her aunt’s places. It was obvious no one was home—their places were dark.” He looked towards the door, then back at us. “It has been an impossibly difficult six months. I’ve lied to Victoriya more times than I can count. All to protect this country from a very powerful and very dangerous man.”

He sighed. “It took Dimitar less than twenty-four hours to contact me when I jested that I’d be open to bribes. Since then, I’ve been trying to navigate the blurred line between building trust with Dimitar, pretending to be his friend, and pushing through legislation that would protect businesses from people like him. It didn’t take me long to realise I was in way over my head, but by that time, the director of the GDBOP felt that this was the closest they’ve ever come to finding actionable evidence against him.”

Manny looked at me and I nodded. “His disgust when he speaks about Ivanov is as genuine as his fear for his wife.”

He looked back at Galin. “Why the holy hell did they ask you to do this?”

“I’ve been friends with the director for many years. We trust each other.” He sighed. “She told me that there was no one else powerful enough that she could trust. Getting some agent in to work for Dimitar would’ve taken years to get that agent close enough to Dimitar to find evidence. He holds power over people in every single ministry, law enforcement agency and government office. I’m the only one not influenced by him.” He looked at me. “Can you please just tell me where she is? What happened to her?” He gestured towards all of us. “Why are you here?”

“Perfect timing for food,” Vinnie said from the kitchen. “Make space, people. Sustenance is coming.”

Five minutes later, we all had a generous serving of lasagna on our plates in front of us. Francine and Yordan had refused to move their laptops and were gulping down their food so they could get back to work as soon as possible.

As we were eating, Manny briefed Galin. A few times, Galin stopped Manny for clarification, but he mostly listened in silence as Manny told him about Vera’s kidnapping, Alina’s murdered sister, the bomb that killed Alina, Nina’s kidnapping, and the three kidnappers who were all employed by Pirin Group.

Galin put his knife and fork down on his empty plate. “That’s my company.”

“That Ivanov has been using for corporate raiding, to pay his goons and who knows what else.” Manny continued to tell him about the drive we’d found in Vera’s apartment.

I pushed my empty plate away and looked at Galin. “You knew he was using your company.”

His eyebrows shot up. “How do you know that?”

“She can see your lies, dude.” Vinnie took the empty plates back to the kitchen, shaking his head.

Galin looked at me and nodded. “I discovered that three days ago. Dimitar had somehow found that company and managed to get signing rights. It’s all still registered in my name, which means that any crimes connected to that company will all be traced straight to me.”

“Do you have any evidence of this?” Yasmine asked. “Anything concrete?”

Galin shook his head slowly. “I was hoping to get it soon. I’ve been building trust with him by making investigations into his business and some of his business partners go away. Yet Dimitar was getting irritated with me because I was still pushing for the legislation to go through. He wanted me to change the wording in one of the sentences to create a loophole he could use. I was hoping to meet with him tomorrow.”

“Then what?” Manny’s lips compressed into a thin line when he registered Galin’s expression. “You didn’t have a bloody plan. What the holy hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I want this maniac in jail. I was thinking that I was never cut out to be a spy. I was thinking that I want my wife’s trust and soft smiles back.” He threw his used napkin on the table. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Francine bounced on her chair. “I’ve got it. I decrypted the cat poop drive.”

Chapter EIGHTEEN

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Vinnie chuckled. “I like it.”

Manny rapped his knuckles on the table. “Speak.”

Francine’s blinking increased as she scrolled the touchscreen of her tablet. “Oh, wow. This is...” She looked up. “This is so juicy.”

“For the love of Joseph, Mary and all the saints.” Manny slumped in his chair. “Speak.”

“Hmm... There are two folders. One for Ivanov’s private computer and one for a phone.”

“How do you know it’s his?” Galin asked.

“The names of the folders.” Francine grinned. “DI private computer and DI phone. I think we’re safe in assuming that ‘DI’ is for Dimitar Ivanov. Hmm... let me have... quick... ooh!”

“What now?” Manny pinched the bridge of his nose.

Francine looked up, tears in her eyes. “Alina’s sister didn’t die in vain. Alina definitely didn’t die in vain. She got everything here. It looks like Ivanov is a very organised man.” Her expression changed to disgust. “He has meticulous records of the people he trafficked. And... let me just... Yup. He even has separate records for the counterfeit businesses he’s running out of companies he raided.”

“Send it to us.” Daniel lifted his tablet. “We will divide and conquer. There must be something there that will give us an idea where he could be holding the three women.”

Galin took a shuddering breath, then he looked at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock. I’m cancelling all my meetings tomorrow.” He closed his hands into fists, then opened his hands to stretch out his fingers. He did that three times before he looked at Manny. “I’ve already admitted that I’m not cut out for this kind of work, but is this really the best way to find my wife? I feel like we should be out there, looking for her.”

“It’s a natural reaction,” Daniel said before Manny could reply. “As humans, our impulse is to rush towards what we think might be a solution. Often, it just results in us chasing our own tails.” He glanced at me. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He looked back at Galin. “Trust the process. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.”

Manny straightened in his chair. “We’re working on a few assumptions here. Firstly, that Ivanov is still looking for that drive. Secondly, since he still doesn’t have it, he still needs Vera to tell him where it is and needs Victoriya and Nina to pressure Vera to talk. Thirdly, we hope they are together and that Vera has enough medication.”

“Those are a lot of assumptions.” Galin’s depressor anguli oris muscles pulled the corners of his mouth down. “I feel like my mind is being pulled apart. One part wants to go out there and get every single person in this country to look for my wife. The other part recognises your wisdom, but is not as strong as the first.”

“I know this is hard,” Evgeni said quietly. “This might not mean much to you, but I trust these people. More than I trust anyone in Bulgaria.”

Galin flinched. “That should never be a sentence that leaves anyone’s mouth. We need to take our country back from Dimitar and people like him.” He pulled his shoulders back. “What do I do?”

All our devices pinged and Francine nodded. “I put the cat poop drive data on our secure server. Everyone here now has access to those folders.”

Galin frowned as he took his smartphone from his sweatsuit jacket pocket. “Me too?”

“I should apologise for hacking you, but I think you don’t mind.” Francine’s smile was gentle. “Not if it’s helping us find Victoriya.”

Galin nodded and tapped his phone’s screen.

We divided the sub-folders between us while Colin went to our room to get my laptop and his tablet. When he returned, I logged in and stared at the screen. It took me less than ten minutes to determine that the evidence presented here would be impossible for even the best defence attorneys to refute.

Sometimes, when I was investigating a case, an unsettling feeling in my mind felt like broken glass being blown around by a strong wind, scratching against the walls of my subconsciousness. Right now, it felt like a tornado inside my skull.

I sat back in my chair and pushed Mozart’s Violin Concerto in E flat major into my mind. Less than five seconds later, I pulled my laptop closer and went back to the files I’d scanned.

These were spreadsheets with the names, passport numbers and other personal data of the people working in eight of Ivanov’s businesses. It was infuriating to notice that most of these people were from Romania, a country with the highest poverty rate in Europe. I loathed humans who took advantage of vulnerable and desperate people.

For a long seventeen seconds, I fought the urge to delve deeper into the statistics comparing Romania and Bulgaria’s socio-economic situations. Bulgaria ranked only two percentage points higher than Romania’s poverty rate. That translated to almost the same percentage of people in both countries being barely able to afford basic food and shelter. Most of these unfortunate people were often unable to pay for adequate heating. Internet access was out of financial reach for twenty to twenty-five per cent of people in these two countries.

I shook my head and mentally turned up the volume of the violin concerto. I needed to look for data indicating where Vera, her sister and aunt could be held.

I opened another spreadsheet and tilted my head. This was a detailed list of businesses. Hmm. I opened a third folder I’d noticed earlier and got to work. Some time later, I looked over at Francine’s laptop screen and smiled. “Good. You’re looking at a map.”

She squeaked and snorted a laugh. “You startled me.”

“You were very focused.”

“So were you.” She looked around the table. “All of us are.”

She was right. It was completely silent in the living area. Even Vinnie was on his phone, sitting at the far end of the table.

I turned my laptop slightly and pointed at the monitor. “These are the businesses Ivanov had bought through Pirin Group.”

Galin grunted and looked up from his phone. “He’s implicating me in all his crimes.”

“Not relevant now.” I ignored his shocked expression at my dismissive rudeness and turned back to Francine. “Compare the addresses of all the businesses with the location data of the—”

“Phones of the three gorillas.” Francine’s fingers were already flying across her keyboard. “I’m including Ivanov’s data too. The three phones belonging to him that Alina downloaded... ah, here.”

I looked at the many dots on the map. There were clusters in five different places in Sofia, smaller clusters in the two port cities of Burgas and Varna, and a cluster North-East of Sofia, near the Serbian border.

“Hmm.” Francine frowned. “Ivanov doesn’t visit the places as often as two of the three guys. They’ve been to all those places numerous times. See? They’re the red and pink dots. The blue dot is the third guy and the green, orange and black is Ivanov.”

“Um...” Yordan leaned a bit closer to Francine. The alarm on his face immediately brought darkness to my peripheral vision. He handed Francine his tablet, failing to look nonchalant. “What do you think of this?”

Francine tilted the tablet for me to see. I focused on the first movement of the concerto and Colin’s arm across my shoulders as he leaned in to look at the tablet screen.

I saw it first.

The map on Yordan’s tablet screen looked similar to Francine’s, but much more cluttered. Instead of dots, numbers on coloured blocks appeared above certain locations. I recognised the numbers of the three kidnappers as well as Vera’s number, Victoriya’s number, Petar’s number and the number of the art dealer Konstantin Khristov who had taken a video of Vera’s kidnapping.

I pointed at one of the two numbers I didn’t recognise. Since it was in all the same places as on Francine’s map, I assumed the second number was Ivanov's.

The first unknown number was currently at our location.

Francine gasped. “Oh, honeybuns?”

Manny must’ve heard the tightness in her tone. His head jerked up.

“Yoda.” Francine looked towards the front door, her eyes wide. “Yoda.”

A frown barely had time to form when Manny’s eyes contracted slightly in understanding. Francine had used the safe word.

Manny turned to Galin who was watching us with increasing wariness. “Mind calling your bodyguard in here?”

“No.” His word wasn’t one of disagreement, but rather denial. “No, not Ilia.”

“I’ll get him.” Evgeni got up, his posture slightly tense. He didn’t ask what this was about, he didn’t question our findings. He just trusted us and opened the front door. He said something in Bulgarian, the annoyance in his tone almost convincing.

Ilia grumbled something and walked past him. He looked at the table and frowned. “Where’s the food?”

As if choreographed, Vinnie and Daniel got up, their weapons already drawn at the same time as Evgeni drew his handgun and aimed it at Ilia’s back.

Ilia’s first reaction was expected. He jerked, his eyes widening in fear.

But I didn’t expect him to immediately relax in relief. His shoulders lowered, his hands falling next to his side. “You know.”

“Ilia.” Galin got up and stood next to Manny’s chair. He crossed his arms and schooled his face, but failed to fully hide the betrayal he felt. “Why?”

“My family.” The corners of Ilia’s mouth turned down. “To protect my wife and children.”

“What did Ivanov have on you?” Manny asked.

“Nothing.” Ilia’s laugh held no humour. “He just outright threatened me. He told me that if I didn’t inform him of your actions, he was going to make sure my children have an accident on the playground or that my wife’s car would sadly break down on one of the steep, narrow streets in Sofia.”

He stopped when Daniel walked up to him.

“Keep your hands there, Ilia.” Daniel holstered his weapon when the bodyguard nodded and moved his hands away from his body. Daniel took Ilia’s handgun from the holster on his hip, then patted him down and took a second weapon from an ankle holster before he stood back. Only then did Vinnie holster his weapon, but Evgeni took a few seconds longer before he did the same.

“What did Ivanov ask you to do?” Manny asked.

Ilia looked at Galin. “He knew you were not being real about being in business with him. He wanted me to find out who you were working for. He knew it wasn’t the police or GDBOP, but he was convinced that you were running some kind of investigation.”

Galin closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, he looked at Manny. “He knew. This whole time, he was playing me.”

“He’s been a bloody criminal his whole life.” Manny shrugged. “You should be proud of failing as a corrupt politician.”

Galin snorted a humourless laugh. He turned back to Ilia. “What did you tell him?”

“As little as possible.” The remorse on Ilia’s face was genuine. “I told him you didn’t trust me enough to include me in all of your meetings, but I was sure you were working with someone to find evidence against him.”

Galin frowned. “You knew I was meeting with the director of GDBOP.”

“You met with her in the past, too. I couldn’t know it was about Ivanov.”

“You knew.” I could see it clearly on his face. “You were protecting the president.”

Ilia looked at Galin. “I was hoping to stall him until you found something, anything to stop him.”

“Oh, Ilia.” Galin exhaled slowly, his expression conveying his distrust.

Evgeni walked around to confront Ilia. “Where’s Victoriya?”

“I don’t know.” Ilia raised both hands. “I swear to you, I didn’t even know she was gone until the president started looking for her.”

Manny looked at me and I nodded. Ilia was being truthful. He was also scared.

I pointed at Yordan’s tablet. “You might know more than you think.”

“Ooh, good idea.” Francine grabbed her own tablet first. She swiped the screen a few times until the faces of the three kidnappers appeared on it. She turned it for Ilia to see. “Do you know them?”

He nodded. “They’re the ones that took me to meet Ivanov. There is something very evil about all three of them.”

“Good.” Francine put her tablet down and showed Ilia the map on Yordan’s tablet. “Look at these places. Did Ivanov or these three monsters say anything that could help us find where they’re keeping Victoriya?”

Ilia looked at Galin for permission. When the president nodded tersely and looked away from Ilia, the bodyguard swallowed and walked closer to the table. He took the tablet and narrowed his eyes. “Not the ports. I overheard Ivanov once talking about the increased security at the ports. He was excited about the success he was having with his new route. I don’t know what route or where.”

“Huh. Wait.” Yasmine grabbed her laptop and searched for something. “Here. I was looking at the financial statements of Pirin Group.” She looked at Galin. “Do you know you bought land next to the Serbian border? I noticed the area's name because Europol sent out a memo recently about the increase in trafficking in that region.”

“Are you talking about Bregovo?” Galin frowned in confusion. “That’s far up north.”

“No.” Yasmine turned her laptop and pointed at an area northwest of Sofia. The same place where there was a cluster of dots on Francine’s map. “I’m talking about Erma Gorge.”

“That is not a hotspot for illegal crossing.” Galin paused. “Is it?”

Yasmine raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “We’ve received a few reports of drones and off-road vehicles being active in that area. Since it’s a canyon-like gorge along the river Erma on the easternmost side of the Ruy mountain range, it makes it harder for the usual government surveillance. It’s logical to assume people would rather risk the easier routes to smuggle whatever it is they want to take into Western Europe. Someone like Ivanov would most likely enjoy that challenge and find a way to bring his counterfeit goods from the East to the West.”

“Bloody hellfire.”

“Hold on.” Francine looked at Yordan, and without saying another word, they started typing, tapping and swiping their selection of devices.

We waited in strained silence, the only sound in the large living area, their excited breathing and the clacking of their keyboards.

“Argh!” Yordan hopped on his chair and shook his finger at his laptop screen. “Ah! Ah!”

“Use your bloody words.” Manny got up, rested his palms on the table and leaned forward. “Speak!”

“There!” Yordan kept shaking his finger at his laptop. “Look! There.”

“For the love of the saints.” Manny turned to Francine. “Talk.”

She pulled Yordan’s laptop closer and gasped.

On the screen was security camera footage of a dark grey car driving past a wooden sign with ‘Erma River Gorge—3km’ in block letters under Bulgarian writing.

Victoriya was sitting in the backseat, staring out the window, her face pale.

Chapter NINETEEN

“Are you sure there is nothing else?” Galin asked from the back seat.

“There’s not much to check in the area.” Francine’s voice came over the car’s speakers. “We’re lucky that Yordan found the security footage from that petrol station. That village is a one-horse town if I ever saw one. Aren’t you close yet?”

We were on a narrow road winding through the western Balkan foothills. I wished my mind felt less fractured. Hearing the fear in Galin’s voice every time he spoke enhanced my distress over the knowledge that we could be too late. And that driving through this picturesque area could be futile. Victoriya, her aunt and sister might be in a completely different location.

I agreed with everyone else that the video of Victoriya was enough proof that they could be here. Where exactly, we still didn’t know. I looked at the rugged terrain flanking the narrow road. We were in a rural area, signs of civilisation fewer and further in between the more distance we put between ourselves and Sofia.

Looming rock faces caught the silvery glow of the full moon as Colin slowed down for a particularly tight bend in the road. Ahead was a small village, its scattered homes quiet and dark. It was just after midnight and the moon was high in the southern sky, brighter than I’d ever seen. The lack of light pollution allowed for a breathtaking number of stars to be visible despite the full moon.

Colin pointed at an illuminated sign standing out like a beacon on the side of the road. “The petrol station. We’re close, Francine. Where am I going?”

“Just past the turn off to the trail is a road that will lead to the president’s property that he doesn’t know he owns.” Francine cleared her throat, but didn’t apologise for her sarcastic tone. “I’m sending the pin to your phones. I found only one satellite image of that area and it looks as if there’s a building, but the many, many, many trees make it difficult to see much.”

We passed the petrol station and the two houses next to it, and just like that, we were leaving the village. My hands tightened into fists on my lap. It felt like the mountains were closing in on us, but I knew it was my mind reacting to the situation.

I forced a clean score sheet into my mind. It took a moment to choose Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor. It was an engaging composition and I visualised the notes to appear on the score sheet as the orchestra presented the principal theme in unison.

I took three calming breaths and focused on the facts of this case. I was not running heedlessly into a dangerous situation. I was not alone. Daniel, Yasmine and Manny were expertly trained law enforcement officers. Vinnie frequently trained with Daniel and his team, so I considered him equally competent.

Daniel, Yasmine and Evgeni were in the second sedan behind us. Ilia was with them. Ten minutes had been wasted while everyone argued against him joining us. Galin had refused to give his opinion on the matter, but I’d seen the micro-expressions reveal his reaction to Ilia’s betrayal. He no longer trusted his bodyguard.

Galin hadn’t given us a choice. He was coming with us to find his wife and no one was going to prevent him from doing so. Ilia had tried to argue against it, but Galin had just turned his back on his bodyguard. I thought about this some more. It was most uncommon for a president to be without his security detail.

I turned in my seat. “How did you get to our house without your security detail?”

“Ooh, good question.” Francine’s voice startled me. I didn’t know she was still on the line.

Galin was sitting between Vinnie and Manny in the back. He shrugged. “I convinced Ilia that we didn’t need everyone to know that I was looking for my wife. He was happy to help me sneak past the rest of my security. I don’t have the same kind of protection as presidents from larger, stronger countries. My guys are also not as well-trained. It wasn’t too hard to leave my house without them noticing.”

“Well, the French president will throw me in a bloody dark dungeon if anything happens to you.” Manny paused. “Do not get killed.”

“That’s not my plan. I will not get in your way. I’ve had some combat training during my military service, but that was many years ago. I just want to be there when you find Victoriya.” He paused. “Is this going to cost me my marriage?”

“You’re in for grovelling.” Francine sniffed. “Serious grovelling.”

“We’re here.” Colin pulled to the side of the road, but didn’t turn off the engine. “Stay on the line, Francine. I’m patching Dan in.” He tapped on his phone.

Daniel answered on the first ring. “We’re behind you. I’ll take the lead from here.”

“It’s all yours,” Colin said.

“Turn off your lights. We’re going in dark.”

“There’s enough moonlight to kinda see where we’re going.” Vinnie had been quiet for most of the journey.

“Vin is right,” Daniel said. “We might have to park before we reach the building and walk the rest of the way, but let’s get in there first and check out the lay of the land.”

“After you.” Colin turned off the BMW’s automatic light setting and waited for Daniel to drive past us.

It took my eyes less time than I’d expected to adjust to the sudden darkness. To our left was a copse of trees at the foot of a mountain. To our right was a small field with a sign pointing to the road leading past the field. Even in the moonlight, I could read ‘Erma River Gorge’.

We followed Daniel for another kilometre before he turned onto a dirt road to our right. It was another winding road that took us deeper into the mountains. I continued playing Mozart’s concerto in my mind and wondered if I’d made a mistake coming with. I could’ve stayed in the house with Francine and Yordan. Yet Manny had wanted me to join. He hadn’t said it, but I knew he wanted my expertise in the event we’d been wrong about Ilia or even Galin.

I was sure we weren’t wrong about them. Even though Ilia had destroyed the trust Galin had in him, I’d only seen remorse and shame. His desire to keep protecting Galin had been genuine. I believed his guilt might prove to be an asset, making him more alert and determined to keep Galin safe.

Daniel slowed down and turned off the road. Colin followed him and winced when low bushes scratched the bodywork. We stopped behind a dense cluster of trees, away from the road and got out.

I didn’t feel as confident as I would’ve had it been full daylight, but I could clearly see the outline of all the bushes and rocks around us.

Daniel walked to us, his weapon already in his hand, pointed at the ground. He looked at me, then at Galin. “You are staying here.” He glanced at the parked cars. “I’m satisfied that we’re well-hidden. Jazzy and Ilia will stay as protection. Colin?”

“Where do you need me?”

“Here.” Daniel’s smile was quick. “We have enough firepower between Manny, Vinnie, Evgeni and me. We need to add your smarts to Jazzy and Ilia’s guns.” He turned his attention to Galin. “I’m going to find your wife, but I need to know that I can focus on that and not have my attention divided by a husband trying to play the hero.”

Galin nodded. “I’m no hero, Daniel. I’ll wait here.”

Even in the moonlight, I could see his discomfort with having Ilia stay with us, yet he didn’t object.

“Stay behind the cars and stay low.” Daniel nodded once, then walked away.

I grabbed Colin’s hand and mentally reached for the piano concerto, but was met with silence. For a moment, ice-cold panic gripped my brain, darkness flooding my vision.

“Breathe, Jenny.” Colin pulled me into a tight embrace. “Dan and Vin are well-trained and Millard is too cantankerous to ever be in danger. They’ll be fine.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Yasmine stood next to us and pressed her finger on my shoulder for a second. “Come on, let’s get ourselves settled between the cars and the trees.”

I wasn’t keen on putting myself anywhere in nature without knowing what lurked in the shadows. “Are there nocturnal predators in this area?”

“Yes.” Galin was the first to walk behind the cars. He waved us over. “But I don’t think we are in danger of being ripped apart by bats and owls.”

“You forget the foxes, wildcats and badgers.” Ilia walked past Galin and positioned himself at the tail end of our vehicle.

Yasmine waited for Colin and me to join Galin, then placed herself at the front of Daniel’s sedan. She motioned with her hand. “Get low and get comfortable. We don’t know how long it’s going to take them.”

“Please let Vicky be safe,” Galin whispered as he lowered himself onto his haunches. “I don’t care if she’s furious with me. I’d take all her anger, as long as she’s still alive. Please be alive, Vicky.”

No one commented or said anything.

I looked at Galin on his haunches and considered my options. I didn’t want to spend any length of time in a position that could limit blood flow to my legs, possibly presenting a problem if we had to move suddenly. I pursed my lips in distaste and lowered one knee to the ground, my other foot flat on the ground bearing most of my weight. Colin took a similar position and we stayed like that for what felt like hours, but was most likely mere minutes.

Gunfire shattered the silence. It sounded the same as the gunfire at Vera’s apartment—assault weapons with suppressors.

“No return fire.” Yasmine’s voice was low, her expression not visible in the shadows. “Dammit. The mountains make it impossible to know exactly where it’s coming from.”

“Not close to our people,” Ilia said. “It came from our ten o’clock.”

That was not an accurate description, but it did give me an idea which direction to focus on. Colin and I both turned and lifted ourselves enough just to peek over the back of our BMW.

I inhaled sharply when the moonlight bounced off three figures moving unevenly across the rocky terrain. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I recognised the woman in front from her photo. Nina was a short distance away, glancing back frequently, her shoulders tense. Behind her, Victoriya was supporting Vera, the urgency of their pace undercut by the disjointed rhythm of Vera’s steps. She was alive, but she wasn’t well.

Their bodies were angled forward, no doubt to make themselves smaller targets. Nina gestured something and stumbled. She righted herself, but stepped on a dry branch that snapped with a sound louder than the suppressed gunfire.

“Oh, shit.” Yasmine’s soft words caught Galin’s attention.

He noticed our gazes and carefully raised himself to peek over the hood of Daniel’s sedan. “Is that? Oh, my God. Victoriya.”

I saw the moment they noticed our cars. Nina pointed and all three increased their speed.

The muzzle flashes came a fraction of a second before the muffled sound of gunfire. Vera yelped, but didn’t stop running. Two men came from behind a bush and ran full speed towards the woman, their assault rifles at the ready.

The women’s laboured breathing became audible as they pushed hard to close the distance to the cars. Victoriya kept repeating a Bulgarian phrase as she took more and more of Vera’s weight.

“They’re not going to make it.” Ilia got up before he even finished his sentence.

Yasmine looked away from the women, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw Ilia running away from the cars to put himself between the gunmen and the women.

“Shit. Dammit. Shit, shit, shit.” She stood up and glanced at us, the moon illuminating the conflict on her face. “Stay low.”

“Go!” Colin’s whisper had the urgency of a shouted command.

Yasmine dashed out from behind the cars just as Ilia fired his weapon. The unsuppressed gunfire echoed in the foothills, drawing the attention of the other gunmen. They slowed down marginally and returned fire.

Ilia fell to the ground before the first shots were fired. He jumped up and ran erratically, shooting wildly at the gunmen.

“Oh, gods.” Galin jumped up and waved his arms. “Victoriya, run!”

Colin tackled him from the side, knocking him to the ground just as bullets hit the cars.

I stared in frozen horror as one of the gunmen stopped and took careful aim at Victoriya. It felt as if my heart, my breathing, my brain stopped when Ilia changed directions and, in an immense burst of speed, put himself in the path of that bullet.

The gunman fired, Ilia fell and Victoriya screamed when Yasmine fired three times. Both gunmen dropped to the ground, never having noticed Yasmine sneaking up on their blind side.

“Galin!” Victoriya didn’t stop running, but her steps were beginning to drag under Vera’s weight.

“Vicky!” Galin pushed Colin away from him, jumped up and rushed around the cars.

I struggled to breathe, my throat feeling as if being constricted by a tightening vice.

Galin reached the women at the same time as Yasmine. He grabbed Victoriya and Vera, holding them both in his arms. Nina stopped and rested her hands on her knees, gasping for air.

Movement to our left sent fresh adrenaline flooding my system. Not even when I recognised Manny, Daniel and Vinnie racing towards us, did the darkness recede. Knowing they were unharmed, as were the three ladies, was all my brain needed.

The darkness took me.

Chapter TWENTY

“I’m so glad to meet you.” Vera stepped closer to me, but didn’t offer to shake my hand. “Well, meet you properly this time. It was total chaos two nights ago.”

“It was.” It had taken two hours before Colin had been able to coax me out of my shutdown.

She looked at Colin. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“You have to thank your sister for that.” Colin gestured to the table. “Please sit down.”

We were still in Bulgaria two days later. Galin’s request had bordered on begging us to stay and assist him. I longed for my own home, my own bed and my comforting routine, but I tolerated being here because I understood the important need for my expertise.

By the time I’d come to, the field where we’d parked had been transformed. Emergency vehicles and SUVs were parked along the dirt road and a crime scene tent had been set up close to where the two gunmen had been killed.

While Daniel and the others had ensured the entire property was secure, Galin had phoned his friend, the director of the GDBOP. She’d immediately called a small team of trusted agents. The usual hour-and-a-half drive had taken them an hour. According to Colin, it had taken her fifteen minutes to convince Manny that her team was completely untouched by Dimitar Ivanov’s controlling power.

Apparently, Manny had been very rude about my shutdown. He’d wanted me to assess the nonverbal cues of the director and the team of agents. Since I hadn’t been able to, he’d taken his time with each of the newcomers until he’d been satisfied with their integrity.

I’d barely taken in my surroundings when he’d rudely shouted at me to stop being lazy and get to work. It hadn’t taken me long to confirm his findings. The team and their director’s united frustration with corruption and determination to find the truth were genuine.

That was when Galin had asked us to stay in Bulgaria. He’d been watching me observe the director and agents, and wanted me to sit in on interviews to determine who he could trust. That was all I’d been doing for the last two days. Tomorrow would be the last of the interviews and I’d insisted that we fly home as soon as I was finished. I needed to get back to my routine.

Upon hearing that, Victoriya had insisted on hosting a dinner for us. She’d asked me where I would feel most comfortable, and I’d immediately replied, in my own home. Her understanding, soft laughter had made me like her even more. We’d compromised that we would gather here and that Nina would cook for us with Vinnie supervising. I’d found that acceptable.

Nina had arrived two hours ago with three heavy baskets filled with fresh ingredients. She’d tied her shoulder-length grey hair into a ponytail and had put an apron over her three-quarter sleeve navy blue dress. Vinnie had laughed when she’d snapped her fingers at him and put him to work. They were currently having an intense debate about the origins of a dish the Bulgarians claim as theirs. The smell coming from the kitchen was reminding me that I hadn’t eaten a large lunch.

Vera smiled when Nina’s voice rose in annoyance. “She likes Vinnie.”

“It doesn’t sound like it.” Colin winced when Nina swatted Vinnie with a dishtowel.

“If she didn’t like him, it would be a very cold and polite argument.” Vera’s expression softened. “She only shouts at people she likes and loves.”

Vera looked much better than two nights ago, but the tension in the small muscles around her eyes and mouth told me that it would take some time before she recovered emotionally from this event. She was wearing black trousers, a red blouse and a denim jacket. Her makeup was expertly applied, but didn’t hide the exhaustion and remnants of fear.

She jerked when the doorbell rang, then laughed nervously. “That should be Vicky and Galin.”

Victoriya had promised to join us earlier, but then had sent her aunt a message that she would be late. I’d seen her twice in the last two days, and she appeared less distressed each time.

Daniel opened the door and, after greeting everyone, we were all seated at the table. Vinnie had brought the patio table inside and had pushed it lengthwise against the dining table to accommodate the thirteen people at this dinner.

It was the first time since I’d entered this house that there were no laptops and tablets on the dining table. Instead, a cream linen cloth covered both tables, a rich brown runner across the centre. Blue candles and three small flower arrangements were the only decorations—the blue of the grape hyacinths and the yellow daffodils adding a beautiful burst of colour.

Nina and Vinnie placed more serving dishes on the table and took their seats as Yordan finished pouring a local Cabernet Sauvignon. He filled Nina’s glass to the brim. “For making my favourite foods.”

“And I get only this?” Evgeni pointed at the almost empty glass. “Have I no worth to you?”

“No.” Yordan looked at him with exaggerated disgust. “How can I call you my cousin when I dress like this and you dress like that?”

Evgeni looked down at his black combat trousers and black t-shirt. Then he raised one eyebrow as he regarded Yordan’s magenta trousers, bright blue silk shirt and colourful neckerchief. His usual serious expression grew even more serious, but he didn’t successfully hide his amusement. “You of all people, Yordan. I’m disappointed. Discriminating against someone because of their clothes.” He shook his head. “Disappointed.”

Yordan gasped. “What? No! Evge... You are evil for teasing me. I’m glad Nina can see how horrible you are to me. Just for that, you’re not getting another drop of this fabulous wine.”

“Boys, boys.” Nina patted Yordan’s hand when he sat down on her other side. She’d insisted on sitting between the two cousins. “If you’re nice, I might give you some Garash cake to take home.”

“Did you say ‘garage’ cake?” Francine snorted a laugh. “Please tell me I heard right.”

“Oh, no.” Nina laughed and spelt the word. “It’s a divine chocolate cake that is named after its creator Kosta Garash. You must try it.”

“You had me at ‘chocolate’.” Francine rubbed her hands together.

Galin cleared his throat and waited until everyone looked at him. “Before we start this dinner, I have a lot to say, but I’ll keep it short.” He smiled at Nina. “The food smells and looks delicious as always.” He grew serious again. “The last six months have been the worst in my life. For many reasons,”—he looked at Victoriya on his right—“including private reasons we are working through.” He turned his attention to Vera, sitting on Victoriya’s other side. “If it weren’t for your bravery and for being kidnapped, this period of my life wouldn’t be over. I will never have enough words to thank you.” He looked at Nina. “And you.”

He swallowed. “And Alina Kovacs, who died in her pursuit of the truth.” He looked at me. “Your expertise in the last few days, helping me find people who have the same values, who have the same drive to fight for a better Bulgaria—a country where corruption isn’t a synonym for government... I also have no words to thank you, Genevieve.”

He raised his wine glass and waited until we did the same. “To friends, family and integrity.”

A lot of cheers echoed around the room as everyone touched glasses. I didn’t. I pulled my glass towards my chest before I took a small sip and put it back on the table.

“There is a lot more food in the kitchen, so don’t be shy.” Nina looked relaxed, content. She’d let her elegantly styled hair down again, layered grey strands flipped over her shoulders. Her subtle makeup enhanced her high cheekbones and full lips. Her wrinkles added character to her face, giving her the appearance of a woman who’d lived a full life.

“Instead of cooking a sensible meal, I made all our favourites, even if they’re not often served together.” She pointed at the dishes. “That is Shopska salad, that pastry is banitsa—it’s usually eaten for breakfast, but I made this one with a spinach filling, so I declare it fit for dinner. That cold soup is called Tarator, and the cabbage leaves stuffed with meat are called sarmi.”

“Everything looks delicious.” Daniel pulled a serving dish closer and put a heaped spoonful of salad on his plate. “Thank you for preparing this feast.”

Daniel had put in extra vacation days to stay behind with Yasmine. Her bosses at Europol had been extremely pleased with the evidence we’d found against Ivanov. She’d been ordered to cooperate with the GDBOP in their investigation. The director had been pleased and had welcomed Europol’s resources and Yasmine’s expertise in organised crime. I suspected Yasmine and Daniel might stay behind when we leave tomorrow.

I helped myself to most of the aromatic dishes, but not the tripe soup. I didn’t even want to look at that serving dish, so I kept my focus on my food and the conversation around me.

“Still no trace?” Galin asked Francine.

She shook her head. “I have my programmes searching the surface internet and the darknet. The moment Dimitar Ivanov tries to access money in any of the accounts he’s been using in the last fifteen years, we’ll know about it.”

“There’s an Interpol red notice out on him.” Manny had ordered that the moment we’d arrived here after the shooting in the field. “He won’t be able to use any of the usual transport hubs, but I think he’s smart enough to know that.”

“We’ll find him.” Vinnie studied Vera, who was sitting next to me. He leaned a bit forward to see her better. “You’re safe. He can’t get to you again.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes for a second. “At least, a part of my head knows that. The other part of my head keeps waiting for someone to jump out from behind that sofa, or table, or chair.”

“It will take time.” Yasmine’s words were gentle. “Therapy will work.”

“I hope so.” Vera swallowed. “I went again today. The therapist told me how effective EMDR treatment is. She also told me about some NLP techniques that could help.” One corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I realised that being kidnapped wasn’t the worst part. It was my body’s inability to cope with the stress.” She shrugged. “Actually, it was the absolute dependence I have on my meds to regulate my Addison’s. That is the toughest part of it all.”

Colin had told me that Vera had been treated at the scene. Victoriya had indeed saved her sister’s life by allowing herself to be taken. When they’d arrived at the farm, Vera had been critically ill already. Nina had done what she could, but without medication, Vera’s survival odds had been very low. Victoriya had arrived just in time.

After her initial resistance, Nina had decided it was best to pretend to be a hapless old lady. She’d acted frail and confused and it had worked. The kidnappers had underestimated her determination and hadn’t taken enough precautions when they’d locked her up with Vera. Victoriya’s compliance had also given them a false sense of control.

They’d enjoyed watching Nina’s dismay when they’d roughly pushed Victoriya into that room. She’d fallen onto the floor and had pretended to be in great distress. They’d locked the door and had gone outside. Once Victoriya had reassured Nina that she was okay, she’d rushed to Vera and had administered her lifesaving medication. Nina had found a wire hanger in the cupboard and had been determined to unlock the door.

It had been her first ever foray into lockpicking and had taken much longer than they’d hoped, but she’d finally succeeded. By that time, Vera had been able to sit up, but had no strength to run. She had the determination, though. They’d found their way out of the farmhouse and had been trying to reach the road when they’d seen our cars.

Once the paramedics had arrived, they’d stabilised Vera and had taken her to a hospital in Sofia, where she’d spent most of yesterday under observation. That’s where she’d had her first therapy session. After that hour, she’d begged to go home to her cats. Fortunately, her neighbours had found them huddled behind a large plant next to the front door of the apartment building and had taken them in.

“What’s going to happen to Ilia?” Vera asked.

“He’s going to spend at least another four weeks in hospital.” Despite Galin’s anger, he insisted that his ex-bodyguard receive the best treatment. Ilia had, after all, put himself in the path of a bullet meant for Victoriya. “That bullet shattered his pelvis. The doctors think it might take as long as six weeks before he’s released. Then he will go to jail.”

“Good.” Evgeni sniffed. “They should throw away the key.”

“That’s just one of the many difficult things I’m dealing with.” Galin sighed. “It’s hard when someone you trust commits such an extreme act of betrayal. I know why he did it, but it doesn’t mitigate that he’d rather commit treason than come to me so we could find a solution together.”

“Why would he?” Victoriya paused to modulate her tone to be less aggressive. “He didn’t know if you were truly interested in being in business with Ivanov or if you were truly investigating Ivanov. Just like I didn’t know anything except that you met with one of the worst criminals in recent history and that you appeared to befriend him.”

Galin pressed his lips together, contrition clear on his face. “I’m so sorry. I will say it a million times and I don’t know if it will make up for triggering distrust when I should’ve taken my own advice and have trusted you. I just thought I was protecting you.”

“Oh, dude.” Vinnie coughed. “I mean, Mr President Dude. You’re obviously just as stupid as most of us. Women don’t need us to protect them. They need us to respect them.” He looked at Victoriya, Vera and Nina. “These three women are added to my list of kick-ass females. I swear, you ladies are stronger than most people dream to be.”

“I don’t mind a little protection.” Francine wriggled her eyebrows at Manny, who scowled back at her. “I mean, sure I’m strong and clever and independent, but I also like being... ah... maybe the word is ‘cherished’ rather than ‘protected’.”

“I believe we need to protect each other.” Yasmine smiled at Daniel. “We have different strengths and weaknesses. If we trust each other enough to be vulnerable, we can protect each other’s weaknesses with our own strengths and so be stronger together.”

Evgeni frowned. “But men are stronger than women. I mean, physically.”

“Speak for yourself, cousin.” Yordan poked at his skinny arms. “These biceps are only good for keyboard warfare.”

“Speaking of which.” Galin narrowed his eyes as he studied Yordan. “Would you be interested in becoming a part of the answer?”

“I already am.” Yordan’s cheeky smile widened. “No matter what the question, I’m the answer.”

Galin shook his head, not willing to make light of his offer. “I’m serious, Yordan. I’m facing a huge uphill battle here. I need to surround myself with people I trust. As it is, more than half the members of parliament will be facing prosecution. They are all implicated in the data from that drive that Alina gave Vera. Dimitar Ivanov corrupted most of our country’s leadership.”

“Say no more.” Yordan grew serious. “But... you can’t surround yourself with family. Hasn’t there been enough nepotism and cronyism in our government? As much as I would love to overthrow the entire system, I love my independent work and life far too much. Our country has many incredibly capable people. I will give you the names of four people—four—who I know will be just as good as me, if not better, being in charge of this country’s cybersecurity.”

Galin stared at him, a slow smile lifting his cheeks. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Any time.” Yordan narrowed his eyes. “Is it true that you’re going to give Petar Govedarov an exclusive interview?

“Yes.” Galin put his knife and fork down. “It’s time we become more transparent with our people. I’m not talking about sharing top secret files, but it’s time the public knows that we’re getting rid of the bad apples.”

“While cherishing the good ones.” Victoriya smiled at Francine. “I like that word.” She looked at Yasmine. “I’m going to be revisiting your words for a long time. We need to be strong together and protect each other.” She turned to Galin. “Maybe that should become the foundation you use to rebuild this country.”

He nodded, hope clear on his face. “I’m going to try my best.”

The conversation turned to the news coverage of the last few days. The two gunmen who had died in the field were indeed two of the three kidnappers. Once their identities had been made public, people came forward, giving statements about the brutal intimidation tactics these men had used to convince them to sell their businesses to Pirin Group.

Yordan and Francine had compiled a detailed report of Pirin Group’s transactional history to prove that Ivanov had used the business registered in Galin’s name for his numerous illegal activities. They’d sent it to Petar, who had published an extensive article last night. It had made international news headlines. This country was in for a challenging new chapter.

Nina and Vinnie brought out three different desserts. I opted for only one slice of the Garash cake, made with ground walnuts, eggs, sugar and dark chocolate. It paired perfectly with the aromatic coffee from freshly ground beans Yordan had brought.

I missed my home. I missed having dinner with my extended family. I missed the laughter and noise of Vinnie and Nikki’s children. Yet sitting at this table, I was mindful of the privilege I had to help people. Watching Vera and Victoriya laugh when Nina slapped both Evgeni and Yordan because they were bickering over the last piece of a sweet pastry roll was an incredible reward for giving up my routine and home comforts.

Vera was alive and well. Victoriya and Nina were safe. Their aunt beamed with pride every time she looked at them. She’d laughingly taken credit when Vinnie had complained about looking for the thumb drive. Her surprise had turned into pride when she’d realised Vera had recognised the smell of the ink used to print money.

Counterfeit currency that was now in the hands of the authorities. In the last two days, the GDBOP agents had scoured the entire property. They’d found containers filled with counterfeit clothes, makeup, bags and other goods. Europol had seized the containers containing counterfeit Euros, and that investigation had been given priority.

They’d discovered a shed two hundred metres from the house with large drones that had been used to deliver the goods across the border. So much of the counterfeit case was still unknown, as was the whereabouts of the third kidnapper.

But Dimitar Ivanov was still at large. He hadn’t been on the farm. He was nowhere to be found.

I knew my own mind. I needed to go home, rest and get back into my routine. Then I needed all the data from the investigation into the counterfeit goods and currencies. I needed to learn all I could about any and all art Ivanov had used to launder his money. And I needed to find him.

I couldn’t do this alone. I thought about Yasmine’s wise words. The people in my life did indeed make me stronger. Their strengths did far more than compensate for my many weaknesses. They made me a better person.

I took Colin’s hand and leaned back in my chair, listening to Vinnie join Yordan and Evgeni in bickering about which country produced better wine. Galin brought out a bottle of Pinot Noir as he talked about the six-thousand-year history of Bulgarian winemaking. I listened with fascination as he told us about ancient traditions that survived through the Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman eras, making Bulgaria one of the world’s oldest and most storied wine regions.

I could wait another day to get back to my routine and the need to find Ivanov and tie up the final loose ends. For now, I would enjoy the light conversation around the table and the elegant, complex red wine.

******

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Turn the page to read the first two chapters of Samaritan—the first book in The Duchess Report trilogy.

Chapter ONE

“What the f...?” Gabriella Reuben swallowed the expletive and stared at the woman outside her front door. For a moment, fear flashed through her, immediately replaced with white-hot rage. “How dare you come to my home?”

“Bree, please.” Petra Keller took a step closer and flinched when Bree jerked her hand up to stop any further movement. “I need to speak to you. I need your help.”

“My help?” Bree’s top lip curled. The audacity of this woman was astounding. She pulled in a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her. “Leave. I never want to see you again. Never.”

She didn’t give Petra a chance to respond. With control so tight she was shaking, she closed the door and turned all three locks. Such security wasn’t necessary here in Düsseldorf, but the last three years... hell, her life had proven that one could never be cautious enough.

Bree leaned against the door, closed her eyes and tried three of the many calming techniques she’d learned. It didn’t work. Seeing Petra had been like a punch in her gut. It brought back emotions she’d worked hard to lock up.

“Bree? You okay?”

Bree opened her eyes. Her assistant Tobias Hoss was standing in the hallway. Today, he was wearing a black t-shirt with ‘It takes a lot of balls to golf the way I do’ in neon-orange writing. A bandage on his forearm covered the latest addition to the sleeve tattoo covering his entire left arm and shoulder. Once his new Celtic rose had healed, he was considering adding to the sleeve tattoo across his shoulder blade. Or maybe his muscular chest.

He walked closer, concern written all over his face. Tobie was not only her assistant. He was a dear friend and the husband of her best friend, Amita.

Bree sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Who was that?” He nodded at the door.

For a moment Bree wished being dogged about detail wasn’t part of Tobie’s character. This trait made for a great assistant, but an annoying friend. She pushed away from the door and walked to the kitchen.

Bree had fallen in love with this house the moment the estate agent had opened the door. The two-storey house in Düsseldorf’s suburbs had high ceilings, making the compact home feel much larger. It had only needed a fresh coat of paint and some minor work to the three bedrooms upstairs. Downstairs was an airy space with two French sliding doors separating the living area from the office she shared with Tobie. When she sat at her desk, she had a view through the living room all the way to the front door.

She walked into her bright kitchen and went straight for the appliances in the corner. She glanced over her shoulder at Tobie. “That was Petra Keller.”

“Wait. What?” Tobie hurried around her and blocked her access to the coffee machine. “CEO Petra Keller? The wench who tried to ruin your life?”

“The one and only.” She poked him in the side until he shifted away from the coffee machine.

But in true Tobie fashion, he didn’t let this go. He snatched her coffee mug from her hands and towered over her. His height, muscled body and bald head might intimidate others, but Bree had seen him wipe tears from his bearded cheeks when he watched videos of puppies being rescued. She knew he was a teddy bear. An annoying teddy bear who was waiting until she looked at him. “Talk to me, Bree.”

She leaned against the kitchen counter and pulled her braid over her shoulder, fiddling with the band keeping her long, curly hair contained. “I don’t know how Petra found out where I live.”

“Maybe from the same low-life PI who dug up your medical records.”

“Stole, you mean.” Bree still got angry whenever she thought about the underhanded manner in which Petra’s private investigator had acquired her medical history. She hated to admit that he’d been very thorough in his investigation despite his utter lack of ethics. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley ‘Lowlife’ Busby still works for Petra. Two rotten peas in a pod, those two.”

“What did she want?”

“My help.” She held out her hand and smiled her thanks when Tobie gave back her mug. She placed it under the coffee machine spout and pressed the button for an extra shot of caffeine. “Hell will freeze over first.”

“Did she say what she needed help with?”

“Nope.” Bree flicked her braid over her shoulder. “And I didn’t ask. I closed the door in her face.”

“That’s my girl.” Tobie grinned. “Er... boss.”

“Hmph.” Her eyes were drawn to Tobie’s smartwatch as it pinged.

He tilted his wrist and tapped the screen. “Tor email.”

Bree grabbed her coffee and walked to her desk. The emails she received on her darknet account were from the seventeen journalists and editors working for her, and the few individuals who wanted to share sensitive information, but didn’t want to be—or were too scared to be—identified.

There was no magic bullet for becoming an award-winning journalist. Most rookie reporters dreamed of being widely recognised not only in the media community, but by the public as well. That didn’t happen often. The few reporters and journalists who’d reached that pinnacle had got there by hard work, determination, knowing the right people and having an outrageous amount of courage.

Six years ago, Bree had been on the fast track to become a household name with her in-depth investigative articles. Instead, she’d become a household name for a very different reason. The same reason that had seen Petra publicly fired and Bree packing up her whole life and career to start over in Düsseldorf, the seventh largest city in Germany.

As soon as she’d settled here, she’d set up CDF Media—CareFull Disclosure Media, a current affairs news site. Within a year, she’d had an exceptional team of journalists contributing high-quality content. Last year, her site had been nominated for the World Media Award. Her site hadn’t won, but her journalists had won a European Press Prize and a Hanns Joachim Friedrichs Award.

Bree sat down at her desk and opened the Tor web browser. The usual double-digit red notification icon hovered above her email app. She tapped the email icon and frowned when she scanned through the unopened emails. Two of the eighteen new emails weren’t from her editors or journalists. But only one really drew her attention.

The username merely read ‘Neil’ and the subject ‘Bree’. She tapped on the email. It opened to no content. She frowned.

“It’s an empty email.” Tobie stared at his computer monitor as he leaned back in his chair. He had full access to all of Bree’s accounts. “Not even an attachment.”

It hadn’t taken her long to trust Tobie with her life. He proved on a daily basis that she could rely on him for anything. His wife was exactly the same.

Bree had met Amita when she’d lived and worked in London. They’d bumped into each other in a cupcake shop and it had been friendship at first sight. That had been three weeks after the Petra débacle and a year before Bree had decided to relocate to Germany. Amita had never pushed Bree for details about what she’d been going through, just lending her unconditional acceptance and support. To this day, Amita had not once asked Bree any questions about being a trans woman.

Tobie on the other hand was one of the nosiest people Bree had come across. That might be why they worked so well together in their investigations. Bree had met him six months after she’d become friends with Amita. At that point he’d been managing a prestigious events company and had hated every minute of it.

When Bree had told them that she was thinking about moving to Düsseldorf to run an investigative news site away from the drama, Amita had squealed in a way that had made Bree cringe. Amita had been about to turn down a job offer in Düsseldorf, because there had been nothing enticing her to Germany except an extremely lucrative position as a programmer.

Tobie had promptly announced that he would become Bree’s assistant and had immediately taken over all the logistical arrangements for the move. She’d not once regretted allowing him to employ himself as her assistant.

Bree pulled her braid over her shoulder and played with the curly end as she looked at her darknet inbox. “Was it on purpose or did they forget to attach a document or photo or something?”

Even though the darknet was notorious for illegal trade and horrid crimes, it had been a ray of hope for journalists and dissidents. The email server she used was not exclusive to the darknet. One could also receive emails sent from the surface web—the internet most people used. Other darknet email servers were exclusive to the darknet, which made all emails—sent and received—completely untraceable.

“Most likely forgot.” Tobie shrugged. “If this Neil is a typical whistleblower, he’s probably—”

“Terrified,” Bree finished. Far too many times, she had been unable to get information from someone who had lost their courage. There was a point where people felt like they’d had enough and wanted the injustices or illegal activities or harassment in their companies to stop. Out of anger or desperation they would reach out to her, but when things got serious and they had to commit to giving actionable evidence, they bowed out.

She understood what it was to be petrified of the consequences of speaking out, of being truthful. That was why she never pushed any of the people who’d come to her. If only this emailer had given her something more than a name.

“Do you know any Neil?” Tobie asked.

“A few.” She shrugged. “School friends, colleagues and such. But this might not even be his—or her—real name.”

“True.” He sighed. “So we have nothing.”

“Essentially, yes.” Bree glanced at her watch. “It’s late and this is obviously a non-starter. I’m meeting the other Musketeers for dinner, so I won’t be looking at my phone or email until tomorrow.”

“And I plan to drag Amita to the movies.” His grin warned her she wasn’t going to like his next sentence. “That conspiracy movie I told you about.”

“I forbid you to watch that.” She picked up her smart-phone and started looking for Amita’s contact details. “I’m telling your wife right now that you’re not allowed to watch that.”

“You can’t forbid me.” Tobie chuckled.

“I can. And I will. The last time you watched a conspiracy movie, every news event for the next month was an attempt by your so-called powers-that-be to control the masses. It was frigging exhausting. Not again. No.” She tapped her phone screen to start the call. “Just no.”

“Stop, stop.” He laughed. “You’re too easy to rile, Bree. Amita wants to watch a superhero movie. We’re going to gorge on popcorn and watch fantastically silly Hollywood entertainment.”

Bree stopped the call before it even rang and pressed her palm on her chest. “You’re a cruel man, Tobes. I might just tell Amita about this in any case. And tell her how much you enjoyed the meringue she made last month.”

“Oh, God.” He groaned. “Now who’s being cruel? The amount of sugar she put in that thing nearly destroyed all my teeth. It was horrid. I love my wife, but she can’t bake to save her life.” He turned off his computer and righted his already spotless desk. “Enjoy your visit tonight. Tell them Amita is going to invite them over for her birthday next month, so they’d better keep the date open.”

Andrea Jürgen, Kevin Anderson and Léon Kohl were relatively new friends and supported Bree in a way few people could. Bree had met Léon first when he’d sought her out soon after she’d arrived in Düsseldorf. Somehow news had spread that she was settling here and with him understanding the challenges of being transgender, he’d been determined to make sure Bree settled in without any mishap.

He’d introduced her to Andrea and Kevin. Soon they’d started meeting every two weeks for dinner and had been doing it for the last four years. Bree lacked words to describe how much Amita and Tobie meant to her, but Andrea, Kevin and Léon understood her on a different level. It was an understanding borne from shared experiences, from facing similar challenges that accompanied their gender identities.

Not that their dinners were about gender assignment. Most of the time they spent the night talking about topics ranging from world politics and investments to the latest celebrity scandal.

“I’ll tell them. You know Kev is going to insist on cooking or baking something.”

“And I’ll never say no to anything Chef Kev cooks or bakes.” Tobie got up. “See you tomorrow, boss.”

“Hmm.” Bree waved at him as he closed the door and wondered if Kevin had made his delicious cupcakes for tonight. There was only one shop in Düsseldorf that came close to the decadence her friend prepared in his chef’s kitchen. If he hadn’t made any cupcakes, she’d have to pop over to the shop tomorrow morning.

Chapter TWO

“Honey?” Andrea’s worried tone jerked Bree back to the conversation. Bree liked her friend’s new hairstyle—the sides trimmed very short and the tips of her shoulder-length brown hair dyed blond. Today she was wearing a flowy red skirt, three t-shirts layered over the other and her usual military boots. Her nose ring and the rose tattoo on her wrist completed the picture of an artistic soul. She leaned closer to Bree. “Hey, are you okay?”

Bree glanced around the room to find Kevin and Léon also looking at her, concern stamped on their features.

Léon’s fists tightened on his thighs. “Who did what to you?”

Bree sighed heavily, then pulled her shoulders back. “Pour me more wine and I’ll tell you.”

“You didn’t even touch the glass I poured you an hour ago.” Kevin raised his chin and looked down his nose at her. “You’ve been drinking that cheap, disgusting cider crap.”

“Not everyone is a wine snob like you, Chef Kev.” Andrea glanced at the empty bottle of cider in Bree’s hand. “If you want another cider, I’ll get you one.”

“Nah.” Bree put the bottle on the coffee table and picked up her still-full wineglass. “I’ll have Kevin’s fancy merlot.”

Kevin gasped when she lifted the glass and downed half of it. “Sip it, you philistine. I swear you people have no class.”

“Bree has more class in her pinkie than all the people in this Mercedes-driving neighbourhood.” Léon was the quiet one. He seldom spoke, but never missed an opportunity to reprimand anyone who said anything negative about them-selves or others.

Kevin filled up everyone’s glasses and sat down next to Bree. Not only was he one of the best chefs in Düsseldorf, he also liked to eat. Bree glanced at his shirt stretching over his stomach—tighter than it had been two weeks ago. He noticed her gaze, patted his stomach and raised one shoulder. “I’ve had a rough month.”

“You’ve been baking again?” Andrea leaned across her armchair to slap Kevin’s arm. “If you’re going to comfort-eat Black Forest cake, the least you can do is share your misery with us.”

“He brought cupcakes.” Bree rested her head on Kevin’s shoulder. “Which means I forgive him all his sins. Even if they are mini-cupcakes. They’re cute and delicious.”

“You’re deflecting.” Léon raised a dark eyebrow. Like Bree, he was also mixed race. His mother German and his father Japanese. Even though the Japanese side of his family had found his gender identity hard to accept in the beginning, they’d come around. His entire family supported him and celebrated each of his achievements. Léon’s quiet confidence brought a special quality to their group—balancing out Kevin’s loud sense of humour and Andrea’s artistic eccentricities.

Bree inhaled deeply and straightened. The urge to wrap her arms around herself was strong, but she didn’t. Instead she gulped some more wine, put her glass down and took another cupcake. One with sprinkles. “Petra Keller came to my house today.”

“The Petra Keller?” Andrea’s eyes stretched wide. “Drkadžijo.”

All of them stared at Andrea in shock.

“What the... huh?” Kevin’s face was scrunched up as he looked at Andrea. “Duh-kah-djeeoh? What the hell does that mean?”

“Hey, your pronunciation is quite good.” Andrea laughed. “Drkadžijo. It translates to ‘wanker’ or ‘motherfucker,’ depending on who you ask.”

“So why don’t you just say ‘motherfucker’?” Léon asked.

“Because I’m trying to broaden my horizons.” She uttered a very unladylike snort at Léon’s expression. “Don’t look so sceptical. We have a new violinist and she’s from Serbia. I wanted her to feel welcome—”

“So you asked her to teach you a swearword?” Kevin leaned away from her. “What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Andrea’s cheeks dimpled, her red lips twitching in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her ever-present smile. “Hey, don’t mock my methods. It worked. She loved my first terrible attempts, but now she’s very proud of my accurate pronunciation. Apparently, I sound like a native gangster.”

“Oh, Andy.” Kevin shook his head. “That’s really not something to be proud of.”

“Swear all you want.” Léon moved to the edge of the sofa and stared at Bree. “How the hell did that Keller woman find you?”

“Good question.” Bree broke a piece off her cupcake and stuffed it in her mouth to prevent the anger boiling inside her from rushing out of her mouth.

All levity left Andrea’s face as she leaned forward. “What did she want?”

“I don’t know.” And Bree didn’t know if she wanted to find out.

“Okay, I’m a bit late to the party.” Kevin twisted so he could lean against the arm of the sofa to better see Bree. “Is this the woman who outed you?”

The pain in Kevin’s question was palpable. Of the four of them, Kevin’s road to living as a trans man had been the most difficult. The most traumatic. At the age of nine, he’d been removed from his family home in Manchester after he’d landed in hospital due to malnutrition. After a few failed foster families, his aunt in America took him in—until he came out as transgender. He’d barely turned fifteen when they’d kicked him out and had threatened to have him arrested for trespassing if he ever showed his face again. His first job at a diner had led to his current success as a chef.

Andrea and Léon had entered Bree’s life four months after she’d moved...well, escaped to Düsseldorf. Kevin had joined their small group a few months later. Even though they had a broad idea of what had brought Bree here, she’d never told them the whole story.

Bree stuffed the rest of the cupcake in her mouth to give her a few more seconds to decide how much she wanted to tell them.

“You’re the one always telling us that we need to rely on each other, trust each other.” Andrea huffed. “Look at you avoiding the topic.”

“Bree.” Léon waited until she looked at him. “We’re here to help.”

Bree slumped, contrite. “I’m sorry, guys. You know how hard this is.”

“Oh, we do, sweetie.” Kevin pointed at Bree’s mouth. “You have icing on your bottom lip.”

Bree swiped her mouth with the back of her hand and winked at Kevin. “Your fault for making irresistible cup-cakes.” She raised both hands when Andrea and Léon started talking. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. I just need... hell, I don’t know what I need.”

“Start at the beginning.” Andrea’s suggestion was gentle.

“Then we’ll be here all night.” Bree crossed her legs under her and pulled her braid over her shoulder. “You guys know that I wrote that article six years ago that exposed the international internet marketing company for their unethical acquisition and use of millions of people’s data.”

“Hm-mm.” Andrea licked the icing off her chocolate cupcake and narrowed her eyes. “This Petra woman was the owner of that company, right?”

“Not the owner. The CEO.” Bree remembered the disgust she’d experienced with her discoveries. “This happened shortly before the social media data-sharing scandals. Petra’s company had used third parties, even hackers, to buy, steal and trade user data. They—Petra’s company—would then use it to tailor advertising for major companies. We’re talking top brands who used her services for their on-line marketing campaigns.”

“I so need to learn more about this stuff.” Andrea sniffed and shook her head. “But then I think about it again and I reckon my cello is much safer than the internet world out there.”

“True that.” Bree loved Andrea’s simple approach to life. Her friend was a cellist in the Düsseldorfer Symphoniker orchestra and lived for her music. In the off season, she would go for short holidays before jamming with all kinds of bands. Last year, Bree had gone to three of Andrea’s concerts—jazz, rock and some weird indie thing. She’d loved them.

“So? How did this Petra bitch out you?” Kevin asked.

“Okay, firstly, she didn’t out me. I’ve been living as a trans woman since I was ten. I didn’t go around advertising it, but I also didn’t keep it a secret.” Bree winced. “Well, that was until I went to secondary school. Those were rough years. We finally moved to another city and I spent my last three school years with everyone thinking I was a girl.”

“You are a girl.” Andrea’s tone was sharp. Hers had also been a challenging journey, in some ways similar to Kevin’s. Her conservative Indian parents had kicked her out of their Bristol home when she was fourteen, after years of unsuccessfully forcing her to be a boy. She’d spent the rest of her school years living here in Düsseldorf with her very open-minded maternal grandmother Sanah. Bree loved the elderly lady. She’d retired from her successful career as an architect, yet she kept herself busy with designing gardens, doing her own gardening and cooking. The rose tattoo on Andrea’s wrist was in honour of her grandmother’s favourite flower.

“Oh, I’m not a girl.” Bree pushed out her chest. “I’m all woman, baby.”

They laughed and the heaviness of a moment ago lifted.

Bree turned to Kevin. “What Petra did to me was so beyond the pale that the entire corporate community condemned her. When she realised I was about to reveal her personal involvement in the data scandal, she sent some arsehole PI to investigate me. At that point, I had been working for the newspaper for seven years and not once told anyone I am a trans woman.”

“It’s none of their business,” Léon said quietly.

“Exactly. And I had long before that proven myself to be a great journalist.”

“And ever so humble.” Andrea winked at Bree.

She winked back and smiled. “Hm-mm. Anyway, this bastard PI got hold of my medical records through all kinds of illegal and unethical manoeuvres. And then Petra didn’t hesitate to hand it over to a gossip rag two days before my article about her was to be published.” Her smile dropped and she swallowed. “I was on the front page, the headline: ‘Award-winning journalist in transgender sex scandal.’”

The tabloid had exaggerated Bree’s entire transgender history, adding sensational—and completely false—details. When Bree’s lawyer had threatened to sue the tabloid within an inch of their lives, they’d quickly revealed their source. Bree had gleefully added all that information to her article when she’d exposed Petra for the corrupt woman she had been—and likely still was.

“What?” Kevin stopped halfway to the plate with cupcakes and turned to Bree. “A sex scandal?”

Bree shrugged. “If you consider kissing a man in a restaurant a sex scandal, then yes.”

“Oh, I know that look.” Andrea shook her index finger at Bree. “Who was the man?”

Bree couldn’t help but smile. “Richard Hughes.”

“No way! Not Superman.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Bree! You actor-kissing tart!”

Bree laughed at their reactions. “In case you’re wondering, he’s a wonderful kisser. He deserves to play super-heroes.”

“He’s also the sexiest trans man on this planet.” Andrea’s eyes were wide. “Did he know?”

“That I’m a trans woman?” Bree nodded. “Yes. But he was pissed off with me. We’d only been on that one date and even though the kiss was great, I didn’t feel like we clicked, so we never had a second date. I had to tell him three times that I wasn’t interested before he stopped calling me. He then told everyone I never told him I was a trans woman. He was ever so shocked. Bastard.”

“Do I remember correctly that he once said that he would only have a relationship with a ‘normal’ person?” Kevin’s top lip curled as he scoffed. “Normal.”

Bree nodded. “Yup. Normal.”

“Is that why you moved here?” Léon asked.

“No.” If only. “At first, I thought the stupid scandal would blow over, but Petra’s PI gathered the villagers and they came at me with their pitchforks.”

Through hard work and consistency, Bree had established a reputation as a person of integrity within the media community as well as with her informants. All the reputable news outlets had immediately come to Bree’s defence. It had meant the world to her that her counterparts didn’t care about her gender, only about the attack on her as part of their tribe.

It had made things much worse for Petra and it had seen her publicly fired. But it had also made life harder for Bree. Not only had her gender become gossip fodder, it had sparked international debates. It had been a trying time.

“Um... what does that mean, pitchforks?” Kevin asked.

“I was trolled. In the worst way.” Bree couldn’t stop the shudder that shook her small frame. “They trolled the newspaper I was working for, sent death threats to the editor, rape threats to my female colleagues, threats to my parents, my brother, his wife, her parents. God, everyone in the slightest way connected to me.”

“Isn’t your brother police?” Léon asked. “Didn’t he do anything?”

Bree rolled her eyes. “He drove me up the frigging wall, yes. But in reality, he saved my life. He pushed for an investigation when not only did the vitriol become increasingly vicious, but my life was also threatened.”

“And they promised they would rape you?” Andrea’s lips thinned when Bree nodded. “Fuckers.”

“Scotland Yard discovered that Stanley the arsehole PI was hired by Petra, but paid by her company. The company begged to settle out of court.” That might’ve been the only good that had come from that traumatic time. “Already their stock had plummeted and they were trying to save face with their investors. And with the public.”

Kevin leaned back in the sofa and looked around Bree’s living room. He stared at the top-of-the-range sound system and the art on the walls before his gaze returned to Bree. “How much did they pay out?”

“Enough.” Bree didn’t like talking about it. Five point nine million pounds would never undo the terror her parents, brother, sister-in-law and colleagues had experienced. It would also not bring back her reputation and her career at the newspaper, but it had made it easy for her to emigrate and start a whole new life. “I lie. More than enough. My lawyer was convinced we could’ve pushed for more, but I didn’t want that. Already it felt like I was selling myself.”

“Hogwash.” Andrea sliced through the air with her hand. “After all they put you through, I’m sure they didn’t give you enough.”

“Word.” Kevin nodded slowly. “If we’d been there, we would’ve fought at your side for more.”

“I know, Kev.” She pressed her palm against her chest, her smile gentle. “You guys are the best. But there was plenty of fighting, believe me. My God, my brother was at war with them. Then with me. When the threat became really serious, Gareth made me stay with him and his wife. And wouldn’t let me go anywhere, do anything, think, breathe. Urgh. He was too much.”

“He loves you.” The pain was back on Kevin’s face. He’d worked hard to graduate high school and put himself through culinary school. And he’d done that all alone. He’d only started making friends when he’d moved to Düsseldorf eight years ago.

“The idiot does.” Bree smiled. “And I love him. I used to joke that he was born old and serious. By the time he was fifteen, he was more than a head taller than me and declared himself my protector. Then it was cute that my baby brother was looking out for me. It was no longer cute when he started with Scotland Yard and became a chest-beating Neanderthal. The older he got, the more worried about me he was. And when Petra’s thing happened? Urgh. I could only take so much. I also didn’t want to continue intruding in his family life. His wife, Norah, is an angel and made my stay with them a wonderful experience, but I’d been on my own for too long. I need my independence and my freedom to breathe.”

“But why Düsseldorf?” Léon had grown up here and had never lived anywhere else. He loved this city.

“Because Gareth came here once for a conference and hated the tea. Yes, the tea. He was here for a week and couldn’t find any”—Bree deepened her voice to imitate her brother—“‘real English tea.’” She shook her head. “I remembered him saying he would never come back here.”

“You moved here to spite your brother?” Kevin’s whole body shook as he laughed. “And here I admired the maturity with which you handled everything.”

Bree blushed. “I’ll admit that was not one of my shining moments. I threw that in his face one night when we were arguing. He was horrified that I would move here. I started making plans the next day. By the time I’d calmed down”—she looked at Kevin—“and acted more mature, I’d fallen in love with the idea of living in a city on the banks of the Rhine.” She winked at her friends. “I love it here.”

“We love you too, girlie.” Kevin’s smile turned into a scowl when Bree reached for another bottle of cider. “Even if you drink that bile.”

They were quiet for a few seconds. Léon was the first to speak. “You really don’t know why this Petra was here?”

Bree shrugged. “She sent me an email through the contact form on my site days ago. When I saw it was from her, I ignored it.”

“You didn’t read it?” Andrea asked.

“Nope.” In fact, she’d recoiled from her computer screen, her eyes tightly shut when she’d seen Petra’s name.

“Did you delete it?” Andrea asked.

“A journalist never deletes anything.” That had been one of the first and most important lessons Bree had learned. “I archived it.”

“Maybe you should look at it,” Andrea said softly.

“Andrea is right.” Léon nodded. “This might have something to do with your safety.”

Léon was a mixed martial arts instructor. Despite his short stature, he was strong and well respected in the MMA community. He was the only one of them who hadn’t undergone gender reassignment surgery. His sexuality and gender identity were more complex than theirs. Bree didn’t know what had happened in his life to make him so protective of their little group. He was not overbearing in the same way Gareth had been and still was. In his quiet way, Léon asked questions and took action to make sure that the four of them were always aware of their safety.

Bree didn’t have to think long to know that Léon was right. She nodded and got up to fetch her tablet from her desk in the far side of the room. She walked back to the sofas, tablet in hand. The others were now arguing with Kevin about the wine and the cupcakes. Bree sat down and unlocked her tablet.

“You going to share with us what she sent?” Kevin nudged her with his elbow, but Bree ignored him.

She frowned at the new email in her Tor inbox. Her eyebrows were riding high on her forehead when she looked up at her friends. “Forget Petra. This is... huh... I don’t know what this is.”

“Is it something you can share?” Andrea rubbed her palms together. “A juicy scandal?”

Bree shook her head. “Not a scandal. Just... hmm... I have to think about this.”

“Then figure it out later.” Kevin made as if he wanted to take Bree’s tablet. “We want to know what Petra sent.”

Bree knew she wouldn’t get rid of them until she’d shared that email with them. Reluctantly she closed the cryptic new email and went into her archives. She opened Petra’s email and huffed a laugh. “Well, this is anticlimactic.”

“What?” Andrea leaned forward. “What did she say?”

Bree looked down at the email on her tablet. “‘I need to speak to you. Please reply.’”

“That it?” Kevin grunted and took another cupcake.

“What about that other email?” Léon asked. “Does it affect your safety?”

“Huh?” Bree looked up and noticed the concern on Léon’s face. “Oh. No, I don’t think so.” She frowned and added distractedly, “No. Definitely not.”

“Well, there goes the evening.” Andrea sighed dramatically. “I was planning on getting sloshed.”

Bree snorted and put her tablet down. “No, you weren’t. I’ll look at this email later.”

“Later?” Kevin turned slowly with theatrical flair to look up at the large steampunk clock on the wall. “It’s just after midnight.”

“Oh, drkadžijo. It’s time for my beauty sleep.” Andrea winked at a frowning Léon. “Don’t be so judgy. My new swearword works well for all occasions.”

Kevin rolled his eyes and turned to Bree. “If we leave now, are you going back to work?”

Bree glanced at her tablet. “There’s not much to work with.”

“We know you, Bree.” Andrea picked up her handbag. “Whatever email you got has you thinking or worried or both.”

“Bree?” Léon got up and stared at her.

She shook her head, a soft smile lifting her cheeks. “This is just an old friend who sounds drunk. And you know I have locks and alarms everywhere.” Thanks to her paranoid brother. Bree settled back into the sofa. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” Andrea got up and kissed the top of Bree’s head. “Come on, gents. Let’s leave Bree-baby to her friend’s drunken email.”

Kevin poked her thigh. “Remember to eat your veggies and take a shower.”

Bree laughed. “I always shower.”

“Veggies.” Kevin kissed her cheek and got up. “I’ll phone you in the morning to make sure you’re okay.”

Léon stared at Bree. “Do you need me to stay?”

“I’m safe. Thanks, Léon.”

“Call me if you need me.”

Bree smiled. “I will.”

Léon made her follow them to the front door and waited until he heard all three locks tumble into place before he gave his usual two quick knocks on her door as a final goodbye.

Bree stared at her front door for a moment, then rushed back to the living room. She flopped down on the sofa and picked up her tablet. She opened the email and read it again. Still it didn’t make sense. Maybe if she read it out loud?

“Bree. Desk9. Cupcake addict. Neil. Desk17. Cupcake hater. CoL. Ovaltine. Weetabix. Limb. Green. Slug.”

Nope. Most of it still didn’t make sense. Bree took the last sip of her now-warm cider and stared out of the dark window. At least now she knew which Neil was emailing her.

************

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