Chapter 18: Echoes in the Wire
Markus Adler believed in precision.
He never raised his voice. Never broke a sweat. He didn't need to. Power, when truly absolute, was silent. And now, as he stood in the dimly lit war room of his Nairobi penthouse—surrounded by screens, satellite feeds, and the quiet hum of surveillance tech—his silence was the calm before a storm.
Vanessa had betrayed him.
Not surprising.
Predictable, even.
He had watched the entire meeting at Fort Jesus through a hidden drone lens. Every word, every glance, every tear. He'd known she was slipping for weeks—her hesitations, her shifting tone, the messages she didn't realize were intercepted. Still, it annoyed him.
He clicked a remote. One of the screens blinked alive, showing Amara's apartment. Another showed Lucas, now back in Nairobi, walking beside Faith. Another blinked up a biometric scan from Mombasa.
Markus's voice was cold as he turned to a man beside him. "Accelerate Plan 7."
The man—Mikhail, a Bulgarian tech strategist—nodded. "Shall I begin with the financial blacklisting or the social media impersonation?"
"Both. Quietly. And send Sasha to Mombasa."
Mikhail paused. "To eliminate her?"
Markus stared out the window, the Nairobi skyline glowing behind him. "To remind her who owns the air she breathes."
---
Nairobi — Amara's Apartment
Amara sat on the floor, surrounded by files, maps, and a wall of pinned connections. It looked like a scene from a crime thriller. Strings connected names, faces, companies, and shell accounts. Natalie stood nearby, phone to her ear.
"Lucas just checked in. He's got something. He's meeting us tonight."
Amara nodded distractedly, eyes scanning the newest bank transaction linked to one of Markus's Nairobi holding companies. She rubbed her temple. The numbers weren't just numbers—they were footprints.
Then her phone buzzed.
Email Notification: Your bank account has been flagged for irregular activity and temporarily suspended.
Her heart dropped.
She logged in. Nothing. Every cent—gone.
"What the hell…" she whispered.
Natalie rushed to her side. "Try calling them."
But before she could, another message popped up.
Twitter Alert: @AmaraWrites has violated community standards and will be removed.
A second later, her Instagram account vanished. Then LinkedIn.
"What is happening?" Amara whispered.
Natalie's face was tight. "He's retaliating. He's trying to erase you."
Amara leaned back, breathing hard. "This is war."
---
Lucas — Downtown Nairobi
Lucas slid into a booth at a nondescript café near Kenyatta Avenue, face shadowed beneath a baseball cap. Across from him sat a wiry man with thick glasses and trembling fingers—one of his deep contacts from Mombasa port.
"He's moving something big," the man said. "Not just cash. Paperwork. Identities. And I overheard something…"
Lucas leaned in. "Go on."
The man licked his lips nervously. "There's another girl. From Prague. Long before Amara. Her name was… Jana. Czech. She disappeared."
Lucas frowned. "Disappeared how?"
"They say she moved to Africa for him. Then—vanished. Her name was wiped from Czech records. No passport activity. No job. Gone."
Lucas's blood chilled.
"What was her surname?"
"Jana Kalinová."
Lucas pulled out his burner phone and texted Natalie immediately.
"Find anything you can on Jana Kalinová. We may have found Markus's first ghost."
---
Vanessa — Mombasa House
Vanessa packed in a rush. Clothes tossed into suitcases. Jewelry hidden in books. She'd been warned by an anonymous email: "They know. Leave now."
Then the doorbell rang.
Her breath caught.
Slowly, she stepped to the peephole.
A man in a suit. Not Kenyan. Blue eyes. Holding a bouquet of roses.
She didn't open the door.
He slipped a note under it and left.
She unfolded it.
"You really thought you could escape me? — M"
Vanessa's legs buckled.
---
Natalie — Nairobi Archives
Natalie, ever the bloodhound, visited the Czech consulate early the next morning. She introduced herself as a journalist investigating international student disappearances.
A junior diplomat reluctantly gave her a redacted record.
Jana Kalinová. Age 26. Enrolled at Charles University. Visa transferred to Nairobi in 2016. No activity after 2018.
Natalie whispered under her breath, "Where are you, Jana?"
She flipped to the emergency contact form—blank.
Only one note was scribbled across the last page: 'Transferred to private address under business investor Markus Adler. Status: Confidential.'
---
Safehouse Meeting — Nightfall
Amara, Natalie, and Lucas gathered in a safe house, tension thick in the air. Maps, screens, burner phones. Everyone looked exhausted. But determined.
Lucas handed Amara a folder. "Jana Kalinová. Czech national. Student visa. Came to Nairobi 7 years ago. Worked at the Czech embassy briefly. Disappeared in 2018. Last known address? An apartment owned by one of Markus's shell companies."
Natalie's eyes widened. "Do you think she's…?"
"Dead?" Lucas said grimly. "If she's lucky."
Amara opened the file, heart hammering. Inside was a photo. A young woman, pale, brunette, smiling shyly. Amara felt a chill down her spine.
"She looks… like me."
Lucas nodded. "You weren't the first."
A heavy silence.
Then Natalie whispered, "And if we don't stop him, you won't be the last."
---
Meanwhile — Markus's Penthouse
Markus sat with his wine, reading the dossier on Amara's bank logs.
He smiled to himself.
Across from him sat another woman, wrapped in silk, her back bare, sipping champagne.
"I saw your little Kenyan girl in the paper again," she purred.
"She's resilient," Markus said calmly. "But she's playing with matches."
The woman laughed. "And you always did love fire."
Markus stood, walked to the window, and looked down at the glittering city.
"The difference is," he said softly, "I'm fireproof."