Chapter 3 - The Message Hidden Between Two Languages
Celia wanted to leave.
That surprised her.
She had arrived expecting intimidation, impossible hours and an employer with a reputation large enough to terrify half the interpreting industry.
She hadn't expected a puzzle left by a missing woman.
And she definitely hadn't expected to become part of it.
At midnight she sat on the edge of the guest-room bed staring at her mother's name on her phone.
She couldn't explain where she was.
Couldn't explain what she'd discovered.
So she simply called.
"You sound tired," her mother said.
"Long day."
"Bad job?"
Celia looked toward the locked bedroom door.
"Complicated job."
"Those pay better."
Celia smiled despite herself.
"Unfortunately."
They talked for seven minutes.
Nothing important.
Everything important.
When the call ended, Celia remained sitting in silence.
Then someone slipped an envelope underneath her door.
Celia froze.
No footsteps.
She waited.
Thirty seconds.
Then opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
ELENA WAS RIGHT. LEAVE BEFORE MORNING.
Celia stared at it.
Her heart began pounding.
She reached for her phone.
Then stopped.
If the message was genuine, someone was warning her.
If it wasn't, someone wanted her frightened enough to leave.
Either way, leaving immediately would give that person exactly what they wanted.
Celia opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
She walked straight to Stellan's study.
Two guards tried to stop her.
"Tell him it's about Elena."
The doors opened thirty seconds later.
Stellan stood beside the fireplace wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Celia placed the envelope on his desk.
"Someone wants me gone."
He read it.
"Where did you get this?"
"Under my door."
"When?"
"Five minutes ago."
Stellan picked up his phone.
"Seal the house."
Celia's eyes widened.
"That's not necessary."
"It is."
"I don't want fifty people interrogated because somebody slid stationery under my door."
Stellan looked at her.
"You don't know what happened to Elena."
"Neither do you."
The words landed harder than Celia intended.
For a moment Stellan said nothing.
Then he lowered the phone.
"Archer."
Archer appeared in the doorway.
"Quietly determine who was on the second floor during the last fifteen minutes."
"Understood."
"No one is to be accused."
Archer nodded and left.
Celia folded her arms.
"Thank you."
"Don't mistake that for agreement."
"I won't."
Stellan examined the envelope.
"No fingerprints worth using."
"You can tell that by looking?"
"I can tell whoever delivered it expected us to look."
Celia studied him.
There were moments when the frightening stories about Stellan seemed ridiculous.
Then there were moments when she remembered why those stories existed.
He noticed her staring.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You criticize my expressions but expect me to accept yours?"
Celia almost smiled.
"Fair."
She approached the desk.
"The wording matters."
Stellan waited.
"It doesn't say 'Elena tried to leave.' It says Elena was right."
"Meaning?"
"The writer knew what Elena believed."
Stellan's eyes sharpened.
"Which means?"
"They spoke to her."
Silence.
That changed everything.
The mysterious note wasn't merely a warning.
It was evidence.
Somebody currently inside the estate knew what Elena had discovered before she vanished.
The next morning, Celia and Stellan returned to Elena's documents.
This time they ignored numbers.
They examined phrasing.
Celia noticed Elena repeatedly translating one Russian word incorrectly.
Impossible for someone with Elena's qualifications.
"She did this deliberately."
Stellan moved closer.
"Why?"
"Because she knew another interpreter would recognize it."
Celia collected every deliberate error.
There were twelve.
First letters.
Twelve characters.
Celia arranged them.
A name emerged.
MATEO SERRIN.
Stellan became completely still.
"You know him."
"Yes."
"Who?"
"My financial director."
Celia looked toward the door.
"One of the nine people who eats at your table?"
"Yes."
Mateo Serrin had worked for Stellan for eleven years.
He had access to contracts.
Schedules.
International correspondence.
Most importantly, he chose outside language agencies for several negotiations.
"Don't confront him," Celia said.
Stellan looked almost offended.
"I wasn't planning to."
"You were thinking about it."
"Do you translate facial expressions now?"
"Only obvious ones."
For the first time in two days, Stellan laughed.
It was brief.
Unexpected.
And it changed his entire face.
Celia stared.
He noticed.
"What?"
"I didn't know you could do that."
"Do what?"
"Look human."
The laugh disappeared.
But something warmer remained.
They created a test.
A false document containing three deliberately altered details.
Only four people received it.
Mateo was one.
By evening, Grekov's representatives had somehow learned one of those false details.
Stellan had his answer.
Almost.
But Celia wasn't satisfied.
"Mateo may be leaking information," she said. "That doesn't prove he manipulated the translations."
"You're defending him?"
"No. I'm defending logic."
That earned another faint smile.
At nine that night, Celia found the missing piece.
A payment ledger.
Language agencies.
Consultants.
International services.
One company appeared repeatedly.
North Meridian Linguistics.
Celia searched her memory.
She had seen the name before.
Then she remembered.
Her own agency had purchased North Meridian eighteen months earlier.
She called a former coworker.
"Can you tell me who used to own North Meridian?"
Keyboard clicking.
Then silence.
"Celia?"
"Yeah?"
"That's strange."
"What?"
"The ownership record was sealed after acquisition."
"Who signed the sale?"
More typing.
"Someone named Elena Markovic."
Celia's blood went cold.
She ended the call.
Stellan was watching her.
"Elena owned the translation company."
"Apparently."
"Then why work here personally?"
Celia slowly looked toward Elena's notes.
"Because she wasn't working for you."
"What?"
"She came here looking for something."
Celia grabbed the oldest transcript.
Elena's hidden messages hadn't been warnings to Stellan.
They were instructions to herself.
Follow the numbers.
Find the person at the table.
Don't trust translations.
Celia reached the last encoded line.
She translated it.
Her mouth went dry.
Stellan stepped closer.
"What?"
Celia looked at him.
"Elena wasn't investigating Mateo."
"Then who?"
"She was investigating you."
May you like
And beneath that message Elena had written one final line:
If Stellan discovers who I really am, everything changes.
