The soft smoke kept rising from the ceramic, carrying with it the dense, herbal scent that filled the room. Michael kept his eyes fixed on the line of the horizon drawn beyond the curtain. Every sip was slow, measured, savored without any outward hurry, while in the silence of his mind the gears turned at full speed, calculating probabilities, risks, and outcomes for the threat posed by Josiane.
When he took the last sip, the tea was already lukewarm.
Michael rose from the sofa with his usual calculated calm. He walked with firm, silent steps to the kitchen, where he placed the cup under the faucet. He turned on the water, took the sponge with a drop of detergent and washed the piece meticulously. He rinsed it, dried it with the dish towel, and put it back in its proper place in the cabinet. Everything in its proper time; nothing out of order.
Back in the living room, the need for control extended to the environment. He approached the central table, where the chessboard and the geometric origami figure rested. He aligned the wooden pieces with millimetric precision in their respective squares, making sure the game was perfectly symmetrical, and adjusted the folded paper beside the board. He swept the room with his eyes, picked up small objects that were out of place, and adjusted the angle of the couch.
Then he went to the bedroom. He made the bed with sheets stretched without a single wrinkle, aligned the pillows, and made sure the organization of the room reflected the discipline inside his mind. Returning to the living room, he approached the window and pulled the heavy fabric curtains, sealing off any trace of morning light and returning the apartment to the serene dimness he preferred.
With everything perfectly clean and ordered, Michael lay down on the leather sofa. He took his phone and began scrolling the screen, monitoring networks, messages, and data with the patience of someone who commands time. He stayed there, in absolute silence, fed only by the cold light of the device, until the digits in the upper corner finally read
10:00.
Time to act.
Michael stood up without letting out a single sigh and walked to the bedroom, heading straight to the desk where his notebook rested. He turned on the device, waited for it to boot, and executed the encrypted access protocol. Within seconds, the restricted interface of the FBI system lit up the screen.
Navigating the internal directories with mastery, he searched the administrative personnel database and the evidence department. It didn't take long for Josiane's complete profile to appear before his eyes.
There were all the variables he needed:
*Residential address and house number*: Elmwood Street, No. 412
*Leaving the office time*: 5:30 PM
*Phone number*: (555) 019-8234
*Relatives and emergency contacts*: A younger sister and an elderly mother living in another state.
Michael fixed his gaze on the screen. He didn't use a notepad or paper. He just ran through the sequence of data in his mind, memorizing every detail, every number and every street with photographic precision. Once each fragment of information was memorized, he closed the session, shut down the command terminal, and lowered the notebook lid.
He rested his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers under his chin, and stayed silent for a few moments, refining the steps of the plan he had just drawn.
Far from there, under the cold, fluorescent lighting of the Headquarters, the atmosphere was completely different.
In the evidence and records department, the sound of keyboards and the hum of printers made up the routine scene. Behind her organized desk, Josiane was signing papers with almost vibrant energy. A restrained smile, but undeniably ambitious, was on her face.
On the outside, she maintained the posture of an exemplary employee doing her duty. On the inside, however, her mind was celebrating in ecstasy. Two hundred thousand dollars. In a few hours, she would have in her hands the passport to a completely different life — the exact price for her silence. She looked at the clock on the wall, feeling like the smartest person in that room, completely unaware of the silent machinery already starting to move against her.