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ILARION
“…do you mean, ‘it went wrong’?” Mila asks, walking her and Dima’s conversation into the den.
I’m standing there with my back to the window, staring at the bloody piece of paper on my desk. I can’t bring myself to look away from it. Not even when Mila and Dima walk in and close the door.
“I mean that the lead I was chasing is dead.”
“So Benedict knew he was close to cracking.”
I glance up just in time to see Dima shake his head. “It wasn’t Benedict who pulled the trigger,” he says, his gait filled with barely-contained adrenaline. “The guy did it on his own.”
“Come again?”
“Shot himself in the neck while I was standing a foot away,” Dima explains. “I really thought he was going to tell me everything. I was so sure he was ready to crack.”
“Fuck,” Mila spits. She turns to me as though I’ll have all the answers. “So…what’s next?”
I gesture wordlessly to the note on my desk.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“I found it on the body. In the pocket of his pants.” I take the note and hand it to my sister.
She wrinkles her nose as she takes it and examines it carefully. Over her shoulder, Dima is frowning. “This is blood… Why does the writing look so familiar…?”
“Wait.” Dima peers at the note. “Those are coordinates. It’s a location.”
I nod. “Correct.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “He actually coughed something up. Didn’t see that coming. I don’t get it, though. Why didn’t he just give me the note?”
“I have a feeling he didn’t know about it,” I speculate. “Just a hunch, but something tells me that note was slipped into his pocket without his knowledge.”
“That’s a big jump to make.”
“But we’re not dealing with a normal mole. This one is smart.”
“Okay,” Mila says, her game face on. “We have a location. Butwhoselocation?”
“Has to be Celine’s,” I say confidently.
“Okay, so we have her location.” Dima paces back and forth. “Can we assume this note means that the old man is dead?”
“It’s blood,” Mila points out. “Not a body. He could still be alive.”
“We’re not assuming anything,” I say firmly.
“We have to assume some things,” she retorts. “Especially if we’re going to bust in and get Celine back.Assumingthat’s who these coordinates are for.” She stops short when she sees the look on my face. “You think this might be a trap?”
“It’s possible.” I’m running through all possible scenarios in my head and yes, a trap lying in wait for us is definitely at the top of the list. I’m picturing kicking down a door and swallowing a bullet for my troubles.
Mila and Dima exchange a look. He clears his throat. “What are you thinking?”
I glance out the window for a moment, a dozen different possibilities rattling around in my head. I don’t have long to dwell on any of them. The location I’ve been given could be legitimate, which means it could also change at any moment. There’s no guarantee that Benedict will keep a precious commodity like Celine in the same place for long.
“If that note was forged by Benedict, then we’re walking straight into a trap,” I muse out loud.
“The alternative is ignoring the note altogether,” Dima suggests.
