Chapter 6 : Unsafe House

Chapter 6: Unsafe House

Keava POV

Needles of anxiety pierced my hands to the point where, every moment, I needed to be holding a mug of coffee or tea, the warmth allowing some relief to my stress. Just the act of doing something with my hands and feeling a sensation was grounding.

Two days had gone by since my run in with Roman Cabot and he had yet to contact me again. I called in sick to the office because leaving the apartment alone didn’t seem to be the best option at the moment.

I struggled to find a story to write so eventually I simply began to write down everything I knew about Roman and how I had met him. I know I had promised him that I would keep his name out of any articles but for some reason I couldn’t stop.

Besides, I would only be breaking my promise to him if this actually got published. ALl this was merely to keep my thoughts in order

In a dark crevice of my mind I thought about keeping this article as collateral. I didn’t know Roman despite whatever stirrings of attraction might have risen. It would be safer to expect the worst of him rather than lowering my guard.

There was also the matter of him knowing so much about me. My real name for example, and no doubt he also knew the pseudonym that I used when publishing my articles.

However, what I had written down mostly showed Roman in a positive light. There was literally nothing scandalous in any of his dealings or relationships. He paid his taxes, gave exorbitant amounts of money to various charity organisations, and even purged his own company of corrupt individuals when he took over Cabot Industries.

The only thing that was even remotely strange was that Roman had not had a relationship or dated anyone since he had been in high-school. Many of the tabloid journalists suggested that he might be homosexual.

My thoughts returned to the kiss…there had definitely been desire in it.

No! I had to keep a critical mind. There was a chance that Roman could have gotten hold of my contact that had gone radio silent. It would explain how he knew so much, though I doubt Atlas would have given information to him freely.

I threw on a thick coat and a woollen scarf to obscure my face from anyone who might be watching me. Heading out the back entrance of the building, I stepped onto the slippery streets now kissed by falling snow. Taking in a deep breath of the frozen atmosphere, I headed to Atlas’s safehouse.

It was an hour walk to the abandoned building beneath which Atlas had made his ‘lair’.

“Atlas!” I knocked gently on the metal door, “Atlas it’s me, open up!”

No answer.

“Damn it!” I cursed. “Atlas, open the door!”

I bandaged a little bit harder…this time the door swung open.

The lock had already been broken.

The staircase down to the bunker was dark and the usual whirring sound of dozens of computers was gone.

Cautiously, I made my way down the steps and a knot formed in my throat at what I found. The den was a complete mess. Hard drives had been pulled from all the computers, file cabinets had been torn apart and emptied.

If Atlas had left this place in favour of a new hideout he would have left no trace of himself. This had been a raid, though whether it was the police or something else, that was not yet clear.

Atlas was a hacker and cyber grifter. His main source of income was stealing confidential and incriminating information and selling it to the highest bidder. A Blackmail Broker is what he liked to call himself.

I wasn’t fully in favour of his moral choices but his skills helped me expose corruption more times than I could count.

And now it seems he made an enemy that he couldn’t escape.

I rummaged through desk draws and broken shelves with the hopes of finding something that the raiders may have overlooked. Lifting up one of the shelves that had fallen over, my stomach lurched as I saw a puddle of dried blood.

I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming. My heart was pounding.

I needed to leave before whoever did this to my contact decided to come back. There was not enough blood to suggest that he was dead, but they could have taken him somewhere else.

I hoped to God that he managed to escape and was just laying low.

I rushed to the staircase when a glint of silver caught my eye, something small and metallic stuck to the underside of the steel bannister. It was a flashdrive, something that whoever did this seemed to have missed. It was the exact same metallic grey as the railings, blending in perfectly.

I grabbed it quickly and rushed out.

The second I got home I bolted the door, shut all the windows and drew the curtains. I shoved the flash drive into my computer, both eager and frightened to discover what it contained.

But what did come up was a file locked behind an encryption.

Of course, Atlas wouldn’t be so careless as to not encrypt his files. However it did nothing to help me get to the bottom of his disappearance.

DING! YOU HAVE MAIL!

I jumped at the email notification. I would have ignored it except that it read from “unknown user”. Intrigued, I opened the email:

‘Rose Cathlyn. I know you are looking into Edwin Salazar. STOP! If you value your life and the life of the people you care about then you will stop at once.

Continue if you wish to die.’

The puddle of blood from earlier had made my stomach churn…but this was somehow more sickening.

I felt my knees become weak and I stumbled to the kitchen counter. I felt sick and sweaty. I was used to pressure and dangerous situations but this was too close to my home.

This person, whoever they were, knew my publishing name, “Rose Cathlyn”. That meant that they knew where I lived, they knew to send it to my private email. I could only assume that they knew my birth name as well. It was bad enough that one billionaire already had that information, now there was another mystery person sending threats and was possibly the one who attacked Atlas.

All that made me feel secure in my chaotic life was crumbling around me.

This was getting out of hand. Of course I couldn’t stop when there was even more reason to get to the bottom of this.

---

(Somewhere in Paris)

Roald looked at the picture that had been sent to him with intrigue. It was a picture of a young woman, with vibrant red hair and blue eyes as cold as ice. She definitely bore a resemblance to the man he once knew and the woman whom he had taken as his wife.

This picture was much clearer than the one he had received a few days ago. The blonde hair before had been a wig and now her natural hair was visible.

He looked at the corner of the screen where his colleague’s face was located.

“You’re certain this is her?” He asked. “Every time that I get a report that says she’s alive it turns out to be false.”

He needed this to be her so that he could put this all behind him

In all honesty he had thought that all this would be done and dusted almost twenty years ago. Now here he was having to deal with the ghosts of his mistakes. True or false he would have to investigate this claim to be certain…if she were alive then it would spell disaster for everything they’ve accomplished.

“Absolutely certain,” said his colleague, one of the few besides Miriam who wasn’t planning a coup to overthrow him. “She’s been using her mother’s maiden name. It’s not surprising that we never found her, it’s not like anyone knew much about the girl’s mother.”

An oversight on their part.

“Send Gustav to investigate–recon only,” Roald ordered sternly. “I don’t want another international incident.”

That had been a messy affair and the reason why Interpol began to sniff around them again after Du Morte’s demise and his daughter’s disappearance.

“What about Pierre and Kegawa?” Revan asked. “If what Miriam said is true then we need to make sure this stays off their radar for as long as possible. If they find out they will try and sabotage you.”

Roald scowled. It angered him to think that the board would still try to remove him even though they knew he was the only reason they were richer than even the pope.

“I would like nothing more than to…come to an understanding…with our fellow board members,” Roald gritted. “However, Miriam has cautioned restraint at this time. All we do now is confirm that this is Du Morte’s daughter, capture her, kill her, and then deal with the traitors in our midst.”

Finally the Du Morte bloodline would cease to haunt them.