I
The car's interior was trimmed in dark chocolate-colored leather and smelled of expensive tobacco, French perfume, and something else - elusive, like a shadow in the twilight. The car was parked under a canopy, reflecting the gray sky in its mirror-smooth windows. Behind the wheel, a gloved driver sat motionless like a mannequin.
Lothrip Longreat leaned back in the backseat, holding a digital printout. The image depicted a fragment of a stone bas-relief in one of the castle's far galleries. The time-worn design depicted a complex structure - something between an aqueduct and a bridge - spanning a hilly valley. At its center rose a massive arch, more like a gateway than a structural element. Beside it stood a female figure with a sun disk shining directly into her belly, and a little further away stood a shepherd driving away a flock of sheep. His hand, with an outstretched finger, pointed not at the sky or the flock, but at a barely noticeable crack in the rock, artfully blended into the landscape.
"If you miss Him," he said, without taking his eyes off the photograph, "I will personally ensure that you become exhibits. In formalin. Under glass."
His suit was impeccable - Italian cut, silk tie, cufflinks that could have been exhibited at a jewelry show. But his demeanor betrayed not a businessman, but one accustomed to giving orders of a very different kind.
His main concern was not the police, but a certain group he knew enough about to be wary.
"And keep an eye on Alan and his gang," he added, barely changing his tone. "Their interference right now would be extremely inopportune."
At this time, one of his men, a certain Marlow - a tall, thin man with gray eyes and a face that was instantly forgotten - had been following an anonymous tip for several hours at the secluded Edelweiss hotel complex, located in a wooded area outside the city. The chalet-style complex was old but well-kept, with stone buildings, wooden balconies, and fireplaces in the halls. The guests, seemingly ordinary tourists and businessmen whom Marlow had seen at the bar and by the pool, were strangely distant, and the staff smiled tensely, as if playing a role.
He used everything he'd been taught: shadows, mirrors, reflections in windows, the sound of footsteps behind the wall. And finally, he found it. A suite on the top floor. Triumph was so close he could almost taste it. But no sooner had he located the artifact than the situation descended into a ridiculous nightmare. His secure connection, always flawless, suddenly malfunctioned. Interference, interruptions, a complete loss of signal. Every attempt to leave the premises was met with absurd obstacles: either a delivery truck suddenly stalled, or he himself was detained under trumped-up pretexts - either for a "document check" or with offers of "free coffee for a survey." This wasn't aggression. It was a perfectly constructed wall of polite smiles and bureaucratic red tape. Desperation grew, and, cornered, he found an old payphone by the reception desk and, cursing everything, dialed Longreat's regular number.
"The object has been found. I repeat, the object has been found. In a luxury room, on the top floor. But I can't get out. Something's wrong. They..."
"You idiot!" Longreat's voice responded. "You were supposed to deliver this in person! Don't move. Wait for me."
Marlow hung up, and that's when the most terrifying part of his wait began. He watched from the window as, as if on an invisible signal, the guests began to leave their rooms. Some with suitcases, some without, some simply disappeared around the corner and never returned. The staff left too. Without rushing. Without a word. As if everything had been planned. The last to leave was the smiling security guard, locking the main gate behind him. He even turned and looked directly at Marlow's window, and for a moment something akin to... regret? Or contempt? flickered across his face.
A few hours later, the complex was deserted. A complete, deathly silence reigned, broken only by the hum of refrigerators and the creaking of old floorboards. Marlowe was left alone in this vast, deserted building, awaiting the arrival of Longreath and his men, with the bitter realization that he had become a pawn in someone else's game, a bargaining chip used to lure his boss here... and someone else. The anonymous informant had gotten his way. The show was about to begin, and he had been relegated to the role of an extra.