Chapter 4: Observation Room

ERDEM

Sleep didn't come easily.

I stood in my office at three in the morning, whiskey in hand, watching surveillance feeds on the monitor wall. Twelve screens showing different angles of the estate-perimeter, gates, corridors and common areas.

And one showing the glass room.

Hendrix lay on the bed, seemingly asleep, but his breathing pattern was wrong, too controlled.

Little liar.

Damir's preliminary report sat on my desk: the attackers were indeed Arzan contractors but the payment had been routed through three shell companies before disappearing into cryptocurrency. Professional money laundering, someone with resources and patience.

The inside information about my route was more troubling.

My phone buzzed and it was from Silas: I can't sleep, brother? We should talk about your new pet.

I deleted the message without responding.

On the monitor, Hendrix shifted position. His hand moved beneath then pillow-checking something.

The intercom crackled. " Sir, your mother is requesting an audience."

At three in the morning, of course she was.

"Tell her, I'm busy."

"She's... already here, sir, in the east corridor."

I closed my eyes briefly. Mother didn't request; she announced.

"Let her in."

Mara Veyra entered my office like a queen entering a throne room-back straight, chin high, wearing a silk robe that probably cost more than a car. At sixty-three, she was still beautiful in the way sharp things are beautiful: elegant, cold and a dangerous touch.

"Erdem." She didn't wait for invitation before sitting in the leather chair across from my desk. "You missed dinner again."

"I was busy being ambushed by twelve armed men," I said.

"Yes, I heard. How inconvenient." She crossed her legs, studying me with dark eyes that missed nothing. "Silas tells me you've acquired a new... project."

"Silas talks too much."

"Silas is concerned, as I am." She glanced at the monitor showing Hendrix's room. "A half-million euros for an informant? That's excessive, even for you."

"My money, my decision."

"Your money is family money, and your decisions affect the family's reputation." She leaned forward slightly. "What's so special about this boy that you'd pay ten times his value an place him in the observation suite? The last person in that room was the Kozlov lieutenant we interrogated for three weeks."

"Hendrix is different."

"Different, how."

I took a sip of whiskey, considering how much to tell her. Mother was brilliant, ruthless and loyal to the family above all else-including her sons. Information given to her was information that would be used, eventually, in ways I might not anticipate.

"He's lying about something," I finally said. "And I want to know what."

"So you brought a liar into our home? Into the executive wing?" Her voice sharpened. "Erdem, you're not thinking clearly. This obsession with puzzles and mysteries-it's a weakness and weaknesses get exploited."

"I'm aware."

"Are you?" She stood, moving to the monitor wall, studying Hendrix's sleeping form. "He's pretty. Is that what this really is about? You want him?"

"I want to know what he is hiding and why."

"Then torture it out of him and be done with it. This... observation,, this proximity, this fascination-it's dangerous, people are already talking."

"Let them talk, that's why they are people."

"Silas is talking, he thinks you're losing focus and becoming soft."

I laughed-a harsh, bitter sound. "It's not even up to two days yet, by the way Silas thinks many things, most of them are always wrong."

Mother turned to face me, her expression unreadable. "Your brother loves you, in his way. He's jealous, yes. Resentful, certainly. But he's family, Erdem. This boy is not."

"Is there a point to this visit, mother?"

"The point is that you survived an assassination attempt today and someone inside gave your enemies information, someone close." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Be careful which pretty distractions you allow near you. Sometimes the knife comes from the hand you're holding."

She left, her perfume lingering like a warning.

I turned back to the monitors, to Hendrix's room.

Mother's right, you're a distraction and a puzzle, so why haven't I eliminated you already?

The answer bothered me more than the question.

HENDRIX

I heard the conversation through the ventilation system.

The glass room's vent connected to the corridor outside, and voices carried if you knew where to listen. I'd discovered it within an hour of being locked in-old habits from years of surviving in places where information meant life or death.

Erdem's mother suspected me.

"Sometimes the knife comes from the hand you're holding."

I almost smiled from the irony.

When the voices faded, I forced my breathing into sleep patterns, the cameras were watching-they were always watching-but I'd learned long ago how to think behind a sleeping face.

Mara Veyra. Silas. Erdem. Damir. Konstantin. Yuri.

These were the players in the house, each with their own agendas. From what I heard, Erdem trusted almost no one, which meant everyone was a potential ally or enemy.

I need to map the relationships, find the fracture then exploit the weaknesses.

But first, I needed to survive tomorrow's "test."

Sleep came eventually, shallow and filled with dreams of Liora.