Chapter 3 - Forty-Three Minutes Until the Vote
The elevator descended beneath Sterling House into a private garage Mara had never known existed.
She stood between Viktor and Anton, still wearing her pink apron.
“This is ridiculous.”
Viktor glanced over.
“The apron?”
“The entire evening.”
“You could remove it.”
“That would not make the evening less ridiculous.”
Anton pressed his lips together.
Mara pointed at him.
“You’re laughing.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
The elevator opened.
Three black vehicles waited.
Not flashy.
That surprised her.
She had expected exotic cars and vanity.
Instead Viktor’s security operated with the quiet efficiency of people who preferred not to attract attention.
Anton opened the rear door.
Mara stopped.
“I am coming because you said someone may have noticed me. That does not mean I work for you.”
“Understood.”
“And I’m not carrying weapons, packages, mysterious envelopes, or anything that gets me interviewed by federal agents.”
“Understood.”
“And if something illegal happens—”
“I know.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You say that as if this conversation has happened before.”
“Not with a waitress wearing pink suspenders.”
She got in.
Viktor sat beside her.
As the vehicle moved into Manhattan traffic, Mara checked her phone.
Four missed calls from an unknown number.
One voicemail from her landlord.
She did not play it.
Viktor noticed.
“Problem?”
“No.”
“That was not convincing.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
He looked out the window.
“You have forty-seven dollars in your checking account.”
Mara froze.
Slowly, she turned.
“What did you just say?”
Viktor looked at her.
“Anton checked you.”
Rage arrived before fear.
“You ran a background check on me?”
“You overheard sensitive information.”
“In the twenty minutes since we met?”
“My people are efficient.”
“You looked at my bank account?”
“Public debt records. Court filing. Eviction petition. Your bank balance was mentioned in a recent payment dispute.”
Mara’s face burned.
“Stop the car.”
“Mara.”
“Stop the car.”
Anton looked back from the passenger seat.
Viktor’s voice softened.
“I should not have said it that way.”
“You should not know it at all.”
“You are right.”
That startled her.
She had expected arrogance.
Not an apology.
He continued.
“I needed to know whether Pierce could already have leverage over you.”
“My poverty is not your intelligence report.”
“No.”
“Then don’t treat it like one.”
Viktor nodded once.
“Agreed.”
The anger remained, but it changed shape.
Most powerful men Mara had met would have explained why she had no right to be offended.
Viktor simply accepted that she did.
She looked out the window.
“Where are we going?”
“Kovacs Tower.”
“Of course you have a tower.”
“I did not name it.”
“Sure.”
“My father did.”
“That is somehow worse.”
They reached a building in Midtown whose top floors were dark except for one conference level.
At the private entrance, another security team waited.
Viktor moved quickly.
Mara followed because there was no sensible version of the evening left to return to.
They entered a conference room dominated by a wall-sized video screen.
Six faces appeared from locations around the world.
Budapest.
Vienna.
London.
Zurich.
New York.
One screen remained black.
A digital countdown read 00:21:48.
Twenty-one minutes.
A silver-haired man appeared on the largest screen.
He spoke Hungarian.
“Viktor. You are late.”
Viktor responded in the same language.
“My document was intercepted.”
“We know.”
“And you planned to vote without me.”
“The charter allows it.”
Mara stepped closer.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Every face turned.
Silence.
The silver-haired man frowned.
Viktor switched to English.
“This is Mara Ellis.”
“Who?”
“The person who discovered our American translation is wrong.”
Another man laughed.
“A waitress?”
Mara looked down at her uniform.
“Currently, yes.”
The silver-haired man spoke.
“I am Andras Kovacs.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“This is not a social call.”
“Then I’ll skip pretending it is.”
Viktor almost smiled.
Andras did not.
“Explain.”
Mara approached the display.
She had never presented to executives.
Her hands trembled.
She hid them by folding them behind her back.
“The phrase your English attorneys translate as ‘original instrument’ is not describing a physical document. It refers to authentic authority. The clarification clause permits a certified copy if authenticity can be independently established.”
Andras stared at her.
“Your qualifications?”
“My grandmother.”
The man who had laughed earlier laughed again.
Mara continued.
“She studied law at Eötvös Loránd University before leaving Hungary. She never practiced in America, but she translated legal correspondence for immigrant families for thirty years.”
The laughter stopped.
“Her name?” Andras asked.
“Ilona Nagy.”
Andras’s expression changed.
“You are Ilona Nagy’s granddaughter?”
Mara blinked.
“You knew her?”
“I knew of her.”
Viktor turned sharply toward the screen.
“How?”
Andras hesitated.
Before he could answer, every screen went black.
The conference room lights remained on.
The countdown disappeared.
Anton touched his earpiece.
“Network failure.”
“No,” one technician said from the back. “Someone terminated the secure connection.”
Viktor’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A familiar American voice came through on speaker.
Smooth.
Educated.
Almost amused.
“Viktor.”
“Pierce.”
Mara’s stomach dropped.
“So,” Sebastian Pierce said, “you found another translator.”
Nobody moved.
Pierce continued.
“You should have let the first one remain buried.”
Mara looked at Viktor.
“What does that mean?”
His face had gone pale.
Not frightened.
Shocked.
Pierce chuckled.
“Oh. You haven’t told her.”
“Pierce.”
“Careful, Viktor. Twenty minutes can feel very short when an old secret finally learns your name.”
The call ended.
Mara stared at Viktor.
“You know something about my grandmother.”
Viktor said nothing.
“That man knew who I was.”
Silence.
“Viktor.”
Finally, he met her eyes.
“I never met Ilona.”
“But?”
“But twelve years ago, she translated a document connected to my father.”
Mara felt the floor shift beneath her.
“My grandmother worked with your family?”
“For one night.”
“What happened?”
Viktor’s jaw tightened.
“She discovered something she was never supposed to see.”
Mara’s heartbeat climbed.
“What?”
Before Viktor could answer, Anton entered from the adjacent security room holding a tablet.
“We found the certified copy.”
Relief flashed across Viktor’s face.
“Where?”
Anton’s answer erased it.
“In Daniel Mercer’s office at Sterling House.”
Mara stopped breathing.
“No.”
Anton turned the tablet.
Security footage showed a man entering Daniel’s office.
The timestamp was 8:11 p.m.
The person’s face was hidden.
But the key used to open the door belonged to only two people.
Daniel Mercer.
May you like
And Mara Ellis.
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