The Nemesis Conspiracy E-Book

Andreas Grenacher

• Herausgeber: TWENTYSIX
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 410

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A gripping tale of intrigue, betrayal, and redemption, taking its readers on a pulse-pounding journey to East Africa and a world of shadowy secrets and deadly conspiracies. Chris has always been a true adventurer and his job often took him to the most remote places in the world. When his ex-girlfriend Lara suddenly asks him to help her on a secret mission to Africa, he agrees. A dangerous race against time unfolds, leading them to Kenya and Ethiopia. Soon, they realize that they have sinister opponents and much is at stake. And nothing is as it seems...

Leseprobe

About the author:

Andreas Grenacher is a true adventurer at heart, driven by an unwavering passion for nature and wildlife that has taken him on epic journeys around the world. Born and raised in Germany, he started his career in investment banking, living and working in financial hubs such as London, Frankfurt, and Zurich. But it wasn't until he moved to Nairobi to pursue development aid that he truly found his calling. Since then, he has explored some of the most remote and breathtaking corners of the globe, from the sprawling savannas of East Africa to the rugged peaks of the Galápagos Islands. He has witnessed countless wonders of the world, but it is his deep connection to Kenya that sets his soul on fire. Here, he supports numerous development projects and helps young people. It is this same passion that earned him the prestigious literary award "Top Title" from Random House for his novel "The Nemesis Conspiracy".

It struck me when I tried to classify your species. You are not real mammals in the true sense of the word. Every species of mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural balance with their environment. But you humans do not do this. You move to a certain area and multiply, until all natural resources are exhausted. And the only way to survive, is spreading to another area. There is another organism on this planet, who's doing the same thing. Do you know which one? The virus.

AGENT SMITH, THE MATRIX

NEMESIS. In Greek mythology the goddess of divine retribution and revenge, who punished those who displayed hubris or arrogance.

WIKIPEDIA

KEY LOCATIONS IN THE STORY

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

PROLOGUE

The run-down factory site, situated in a secluded suburb somewhere in the heart of Europe, had long been abandoned and left to the mercy of time. For years, its rusty machines and dusty halls had remained untouched, and the site faded from memory.

But on this day, the desolate old building was to serve a new purpose, as a secret meeting ground, hidden from curious eyes and ears. They had carefully chosen this site for its isolation from the outside world. Here, they could speak freely without fear of discovery.

The early morning air was crisp and biting as he walked across the deserted parking lot of the factory premises. The cold air nipped at his face and hands, causing him to shiver slightly. The fog hung low, casting a ghostly veil over the empty lot. He could hear the crunch of gravel underfoot as he made his way towards the entrance, his breath visible in the chilly dawn light.

He quickened his pace, eager to reach his destination. Despite the unsavory nature of his business dealings, the location had become all too familiar to him. A convenient meeting place to avoid unnecessary witnesses.

He approached the entrance, avoiding the broken glass and debris that littered the ground. With a deep breath, he grasped the rusty handle, feeling it hardly move under his grip with an ugly, grinding sound. The hinges groaned in protest, echoing through the vast space inside. Startled by the ear-splitting noise, he cast a wary glance around the abandoned factory, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. But nobody could be seen.

He quickly pushed the door open, peeking inside. Everything seemed calm. He stepped inside and carefully shut the door behind him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he took off his woolen cap, tucking it deep inside the pocket of his coat. His hand brushed against the cold metal of his revolver. A little insurance if things went south. Better be safe, than sorry.

"You're late," the familiar voice called out to him as he stepped into the dusty entrance area. Apparently, his business partner had already been waiting for him. His eyes still had to get used to the semi-darkness and the little daylight that filtered through the dirty windows made him barely recognize the other man, who was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. "But it was worth the wait," he replied quickly and walked towards his towering, sturdy business partner. He had dealt with a lot of shady characters in his life. But this man had given him an uneasy feeling from day one. However, there was no doubt that he was one of the best when it came to converting their special goods into cash.

"Hmm, is that so?" the tall man with the smooth-shaven head and dense black beard replied skeptically.

"Yes, definitely. We made excellent progress last week."

He went to the corner of the room and sat on one of the worn-out velvet armchairs that were the few remaining signs of the better times that this forgotten place had seen. He cleared his throat as he now got to the difficult part of their conversation. Their mutual project required some intensive preparation, which came with high expenses. Today was the time to discuss each other's share of the total profit.

"By the way, we haven't talked about how we will split the cash," he began carefully. Over the years, he had learned to bring up unpleasant topics with these kind of business partners with extreme caution.

"Fifty percent," the shaven head replied instantly. "I've identified three potential buyers. We should land somewhere around 200 million dollars."

"That is not bad."

He thought for a second. That was even more than he had expected. His counterpart was indeed one of the best dealers in the black market and well-known for not bluffing.

Nor being a friend of lengthy price negotiations.

"Alright, agreed," he therefore replied quickly.

"Good."

The man's eyes bored into him, and he noticed that the deep voice turned a notch sharper.

"Are you sure you have everything under control? None of your people must know what this is really about."

"All is fine. Trust me."

"I hope so, for your own sake," the giant man replied slowly and looked at him sharply. "Failure is not an option. My team will be on standby if you need help."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He had worked with that man before and knew how brutal his people could be if someone got in their way. After their last deal in Brazil, they had to dispose of two body bags. But at least their mutual business had been extremely profitable. He smiled and looked at his expensive watch. Time to leave.

"I will contact you as soon as there is any news."

"I expect nothing less."

"Alright then. We stay in touch."

He stood up and the two men silently shook hands. The shadows cast by the dim lighting danced across their faces, giving them both a menacing look.

A few seconds later, he left the factory building, his footsteps echoing across the empty halls. When he finally reached the deserted parking lot, the wind howled, lashing at his coat and making him shiver. Was it really the freezing morning temperatures, or the thought of his creepy business partner? He hastened his steps, eager to escape that godforsaken place.

CHAPTER 1

Three weeks later…

It was dark and he heard light rain tapping against the window of his bedroom. Chris had just turned off his bedside lamp, so the rest of the room was barely visible. He still felt the heavy workload of the last few days in his bones. It felt good to finally sleep in his own bed. Definitely more comfortable than the filthy hotel bed in Jinja, he thought, unconsciously scratching his three-day stubble that, along with his tousled blond hair, gave him the look of a truck driver these days. For the last 48 hours, he had been traveling non-stop and had no time for such overrated tasks like enjoying a morning shave.

In his job as a project manager, Chris traveled the world. Mostly, to countries where luxury was rare to find and where one could count the number of posh hotels on one hand. Unfortunately, his employer lacked the good will and necessary funds to book him accommodations that exceeded the absolute minimum comfort levels.

But anyway, he just loved his job. Traveling to exotic countries and getting to know foreign cultures had already fascinated him since he was a kid. He was lucky enough to turn his hobby into his career. The typical customers who were usually interested in his employer's medium-sized, climate-friendly energy plants were typically located in rural areas across Africa and Latin America. So most of the time, Chris found himself in remote places that were off the beaten track. Just the way he liked it.

Their company motto, "If we can't make it, nobody can!", was a pretty good summary of their self-perception and the kind of projects they were willing to accept. Often enough, they made the impossible possible. And his boss regularly made it clear that he expected full commitment from each and every employee.

It was just a few hours ago that Chris had arrived back home in Hamburg, Germany, from his four-week business trip to Uganda. It really had been exhausting.

It was late, the shops were already closed, and in his fridge, he only found a few cold beer bottles, a moldy half-eaten cheese and a rotting noodle salad that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow. Fortunately, the beer had served him as dinner nonetheless, as he reminded himself with a smile that he was living the hard life of a monk.

His project in Uganda was located four hours' drive south of the capital city, Kampala, and was situated at the mouth of the Nile, flowing into Africa's largest lake, Lake Victoria. This impressive river was not only a vital source of life for humans and nature but also a crucial energy source for the countries in the region. And this is where Chris came into play. During his geology studies, he had specialized in geothermal and hydropower, and was now a true expert in the field. As usual, his job was to support the engineers at the early phase of their project planning. It was no easy task, as harsh weather conditions, inaccessible terrain and lack of supplies could make their work often extremely challenging.

At least I finally have two weeks of vacation, he thought as he was now laying on the bed on the first floor of his house with a peaceful smile. It was Sunday evening, and he had gone to bed after finishing the last of the three bottles of beer that he had previously discovered inside his fridge.

He was determined to spend the next fourteen days at home in Hamburg, Germany's vibrant northern metropolis located not far from the border with Denmark. It is the country's second-largest city after Berlin, and well-known for its maritime history, elegant and modern architecture, lively nightlife with stylish bars, clubs, and restaurants to suit all tastes, as well as for hosting one of Europe's largest ports.

It was time to enjoy the summer, meet up with his buddies, or just have a relaxed barbecue along the Elbe River and watch some container ships or sailing boats pass by. Maybe he would even throw a small party and celebrate his birthday. After all, his big day was already the next Sunday. He would think about the details over breakfast the next morning. Now he just wanted to sleep. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and dozed off almost immediately.

Suddenly a sound of shattering glass, apparently coming from the ground floor, made him startle from his dreams. What the hell was that?

Chris got up immediately and sneaked downstairs to check things out. On the way down, he grabbed his baseball bat, which always leaned in the corner of his bedroom. Just in case. An old habit from childhood days when he was still afraid of burglars.

Fortunately, those times were long gone. Nature had been kind to him. His muscular body and years of diligent martial arts training had given him a healthy level of self-confidence. He moved silently and was reaching the bottom of the stairs when he almost stumbled over the empty beer bottles that he left there a few hours before. That was close, he thought, and carefully stepped over the empty relics of his thirst.

He listened into the silence, turned on the light in the hallway and looked towards the entrance door and along the corridor.

Nothing suspicious so far. With the baseball bat raised, he stood in the brightly lit entrance area of his small house that he had bought just a few years ago. At the time, he had to endure the mockery of his buddies who had all acquired cool penthouses in the heart of the city and opted to live amid bars and clubs rather than in the suburbs. But Chris had experienced enough adventures on his countless trips and preferred the life in the picturesque countryside. An attitude that had landed him quite a few dates, here and there.

But where did the noise come from? The front door was firmly locked, no signs of an intruder. Had he just imagined the sound of shattering glass in his dreams?

Chris slowly moved forward and approached the door to the living room, whose large, floor-to-ceiling windows led to the terrace and green garden in his backyard. He loved relaxing on the comfortable couch there, reading a book or watching birds bathing happily in the little water pond that he had set up in the beautifully landscaped garden.

He shook off the thought and focused on the unknown danger lurking in front of him. The door was leaning slightly open. He tried to see something through the narrow crack. Nothing.

He gripped the baseball bat even tighter, while using his elbow to slowly push open the door to take a look. The room was pitch dark. As he reached for the light switch, he suddenly felt a cold breeze blowing towards him. He knew that he was not alone.

Chris took a quick step back into the hallway and turned off all the lights. The house was completely dark now. From being hunted to being the hunter.

He pressed himself against the wall and noticed his pulse fastening. He raised the baseball bat higher, ready to strike at any moment.

Chris had never cared much for the approach of handling criminals with kid gloves. We all hold each other's hands, talk about our difficult childhood, and then sing Kumbaya my Lord, all together? Thanks, but no thanks. All he would share with this burglar was a brief introduction to the wooden masterpiece in his hands. The conversation would be brief, tense, and one-sided.

He pushed the door open further and tried to detect any sound or movement from within. But before he could decide whether to storm in with brute force or sneak inside unnoticed like a ninja, he heard a warm, female voice that was all too familiar to him.

"Come on in, sweetheart. I've been waiting for you."

CHAPTER 2

Over the years, Chris had learned countless life lessons that he held dear to his heart. Some of these valuable lessons had saved him from serious trouble more than once. For example, he always made a point of immediately checking the nearest emergency exit when entering a shopping mall, hotel, or bar. Always expect the unexpected.

Another rule he cherished was efficient time management. For instance, instead of spending hours researching a new destination through travel guides, he would simply talk to some local taxi drivers. This proved to be the best source of local information, whether he was looking for the coolest bars in town or the most beautiful, secluded beach free of annoying tourists.

Locals know best, and all it takes, is a bit of friendly conversation and some humor to access privileged information.

However, the mother of all wisdom was to think positively - always. Once you master the art of seeing the bright side, no matter what, life immediately becomes easy. After all, to be honest, most of the time we are dealing with luxury problems anyway. Missed the bus? Hey, at least it wasn't the last one. No bonus cheque this year? Well, at least you have a job. Cut your finger? Congratulations, at least it wasn't your head. Chris had learnt many of these life lessons the hard way, and it took him a while to figure certain things out.

You definitely don't have to be a Nobel Prize winner to know one thing for sure: extra caution is required if a stranger calls you by a sweet nickname in the middle of the night.

But in this case, Chris knew he had nothing to worry about. The warm voice from the other corner of his living room brought back joyful and passionate memories. He lowered the baseball bat.

"Nice to see you," he said to the alluring silhouette that faintly appeared in the darkness in front of the patio door. "But you could have just rung the doorbell, Lara."

Then he finally found the light switch.

CHAPTER 3

Lara smiled, walked over to him, and gave him a long hug.

"I know, Chris. But I tried to avoid your front door and your patio door was unlocked." She raised her eyebrow and wagged her index finger back and forth. "By the way, how could that happen? And if you haven't noticed: You're being watched!" Chris looked confused. What? Not only had his ex-girlfriend suddenly broken into his living room, but she was also claiming a weird story that he was under surveillance? That didn't make any sense.

"Hey, are you okay?" He looked at her increasingly worried.

The two had not seen each other in a long time. As usual, Lara looked stunning. She was wearing a figure-hugging pair of blue jeans, a delicate light top, and a stylish sweat blazer. Sporty, but elegant. Her long chestnut-brown hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders, framing her face beautifully. To his pleasant surprise, she was still wearing the inconspicuous silver necklace with the little heart that he had given her when they last met.

She looked a bit more serious than usual, but he had no reason to believe that she had turned crazy.

"Yes, I am great," she replied and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"By the way, I'm really sorry about the vase. I hope it wasn't expensive?" She pointed to the floor behind and looked at him with an apologetic smile.

Next to the sofa, Chris noticed the mortal remains of the colorful glass vase that he had won at a fun fair in Peru just a few months ago. Apparently, Lara had accidentally bumped into it in the darkness when she entered his living room. Now, the deceased body of this questionable example of glassblowing art was scattered in a thousand pieces over the dark parquet floor.

Probably it was for the better. At least he wouldn't have to worry anymore about which lucky family member to generously donate this wonderful Christmas gift to.

Had he really forgotten to lock the terrace door the night before? It was possible. A mistake that usually didn't happen to him.

"Don't worry about the vase, Lara. We will find a way for you to make it up to me." He winked at her with a mischievous smile, but then became serious again. "So, what did you mean when you said that I'm being watched?"

"Right." Lara quickly went to the windows and made sure that all curtains were tightly drawn, and no light was leaking through.

Then she took Chris by the hand and pulled him towards the long, rustic oak table in the center of the room. Both sat down and she looked him in the eyes.

"Listen. We don't have much time. Pack a few cloths together for a few days, and then let's get out of here. I'll explain everything once we're on the road, okay?"

She looked highly concerned. An expression that he had rarely seen on her face before.

"Wait a minute, this is all happening a bit fast." He looked at her skeptically. "I just returned from a pretty exhausting trip. And you show up here in the middle of the night and..."

"Relax," she interrupted him gently. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't really important, would I?"

Chris thought for a second. It all sounded a little crazy. However, it was Lara who was sitting here right in front of him, asking for his support. He would help her no matter what. And that wasn't just due to her tempting appearance or her Italian roots that undoubtedly influenced her temperament as well as her advanced Mediterranean cooking skills. During the two weeks they had spent working on a mutual project in Ecuador just about a year ago, she had been a fascinating exception from all the other women he had met till then. Smart, witty, and with the most enchanting smile that he had ever seen.

She was an archaeologist and considered an expert in the field of early civilizations. Back then, she was brought in as a consultant because the Ecuadorian authorities suspected there might be hidden remnants of the ancient Inca culture in the project area. Therefore, an archaeological assessment was required before the necessary permits for their project could be issued. That was Lara's role. Fortunately, the government's concerns turned out to be unfounded. But to get to this conclusion, Chris and Lara spent a lot of time together.

He had applied his incomparable charm and magnetic charisma, two forces impossible to resist, to win her over. Things between them had clicked quickly and they enjoyed some unforgettable moments. Yet, fate was not on their side. With heavy hearts, they bid farewell to the enchanting spell they had cast upon each other, as the two weeks faded like a whisper in the wind.

Lara was a freelance consultant and had to fly to Mexico for her next mission, while Chris had to work in Namibia for several months. Both were no big believers in long-distance relationships and therefore decided to stay just friends. Since then, they had tried to stay in touch by sending each other text messages and had a couple of videocalls. But unfortunately, the time-zone differences and the spotty internet connection in the regions where they both operated, were serious obstacles for keeping up a romantic relationship.

Chris couldn't remember that Lara had ever struck him as paranoid or hysterical during all this time. He would never forget the time in Ecuador when a huge banana spider suddenly appeared in the tent where the whole project team was having lunch. A bite from these hairy beasts could be life-threatening even for a healthy adult. It was no surprise that some of the faint-hearted colleagues immediately ran away. But not Lara.

She was always a passionate environmentalist and loved animals and nature.

Even before Chris could demonstrate his extraordinary qualities as a notorious lifesaver and spider hunter, Lara jumped up, took one of the salad bowls from the lunch table, emptied it and placed it carefully over the fearsome black and yellow-patterned creature. Then she pushed a piece of paper under the edge of the bowl and carried the frightened animal out of the tent and released it into freedom in a distant bush. Even in stressful situations, Lara reacted calmly and sensibly. So, what had happened to bring her here, urging him to pack up and leave in the middle of the night?

Chris knew that he could trust her one hundred percent.

"Hmm. So, how long will we be gone?" he asked, frowning. Although he had two weeks of vacation ahead without any firm plans, in three days his favorite soccer club was playing against the local city rival, and he had bought tickets for the match.

"Don't worry. Just a few days." She looked at him with a pout.

"You're not going to refuse my little request, are you?"

Chris breathed out deeply.

"Alright, fine. I'll quickly pack my luggage. I'll be ready in five minutes."

For some reason, he had the unmistakable feeling that he could probably forget about the soccer game. Lara could really be very persuasive. "But I really do this just because it's you."

"Thanks, you are the best! And now put on some clothes. Men in pyjamas always look so helpless. And you don't want that, do you?"

She smiled at him mischievously, while he just laughed.

Still a little bit stunned by the sudden turn that his first day of vacation had taken, Chris went upstairs and got dressed. He quickly grabbed some fresh clothes from his closet and went back downstairs in the hallway where his half-emptied travel bag was still lying on the floor since the previous evening. While he packed his luggage, Lara leaned against the doorframe and watched him patiently.

"You'll see, it'll be like old times. I promise to explain everything to you later."

"I hope so. By the way, it would be great if you can clean up the mess that you made." With the mock severity of a disappointed teacher, he shook his head and looked towards the living room.

"And don't forget to lock the door to the patio. Just in case we are gone for longer."

Without waiting for her response, he zipped up his bag.

He could not know how right he was with his hunch.

CHAPTER 4

As far as he could remember, his friends and colleagues had always called him 'Buff', undoubtedly due to his physical attributes. Even as a teenager, it had become increasingly difficult for him to find clothes in the right size due to his height, not to mention proper shoes. But he had gotten used to it.

As usual, he was working alone this time, in order to carry out his operation as discreetly as possible. He didn't exactly know what the mission was about, but it seemed important. Otherwise, his big boss wouldn't have been asking for a status report calling him directly on phone several times a day. The organization he worked for was notorious for its strict security measures, and the use of communication devices was typically limited to the absolute minimum. What could be so important that they were breaking from this iron-clad rule?

However, one of their most fundamental principles was to not ask unnecessary questions.

Buff had been sitting the whole night in his inconspicuous white van, parked about twenty meters from the house he was supposed to monitor. Not much had happened during this time, aside from the neighbor who lived on the opposite side of the street and leaving the house regularly in his jogging attire to walk his German shepherd.

The street was a dead end. Buffs target person had apparently been away from home for a while. So when his target had finally arrived with a taxi the previous evening, he was carrying a large duffle bag over his shoulder on the way to his house. That was many hours ago now. Nothing worth mentioning had happened since. Boring suburban shithole, Buff thought and took a sip from his coffee cup.

At some point, it had started raining, but meanwhile the drizzle had stopped. In fact, the first dawn light on the starry night sky was announcing a beautiful summer day. He had moved his seat all the way back to take a somewhat comfortable position. He yawned. It was still a small eternity until the end of his shift. He reached for the thermos on the back seat to refill his cup. Not much was left in there. No wonder. By now, he had consumed so much of the black brew that the caffeine content in his blood was probably far exceeding all recommended limits. Although the coffee succeeded to keep him awake, it also had the undesirable consequence of making him feel the urge to urinate once again. He looked at the red brick house where his target stayed.

Everything looked quiet.

Buff took a decision. It's not like anything's going to happen in one minute, he hoped and silently opened the door of the van, avoiding any noise. He got out and quickly walked to the long hedge that surrounded the neighbor's property, where he relieved his pressing need. A few seconds later he was back in the car and resumed his surveillance task.

The first birds began their morning concert. While Buff listened to the cheerful chirping, he had to admit that it wasn't so bad in this sleepy suburb after all. Sometimes you find beauty where you least expect it, he pondered thoughtfully. He stretched his back and then massaged his neck for a while. Only a few more hours and his colleague would arrive to take over from him. For Buff, observing a person for hours without anything happening was by far the most boring part of his job. But where there is light, there must be shadow.

He had no idea that just a few minutes earlier two figures had crept through the densely overgrown garden of the brick house and across the adjoining property, until they reached the street around the next corner. Unnoticed, they had escaped the glow of the lanterns and were moving fast in the twilight. One of them carried a large duffle bag over his shoulder.

CHAPTER 5

His house was in the countryside, but that did not mean he was completely cut off from the outside world. After sneaking through the garden and the neighboring property, they first made sure that no one had followed them. Then, taking advantage of the darkness, they hurried to the nearby subway station, where they were now waiting for the next train. Lara was busy tapping on her smartphone and checking train schedules.

"See? It's easy. The next train is coming in five minutes. We'll first take it to the central station and take the next train from there."

"Why didn't you come with the car? Wouldn't that have made things a little easier?"

"Where we are going, it's faster with the train, trust me. Besides, taking the train is better for the environment."

Taking the train is faster? He frowned. Recently, the trains had been failing too often for him to agree with this bold statement.

But Lara was looking so enthusiastic that he didn't want to distract her with his experiences with the local train system. Maybe we'll have luck this time, he thought and nodded encouragingly to motivate her. And surprisingly, this time everything went fine.

Less than half an hour later, they were in the monumental waiting hall of the main central station in Hamburg, where despite the early hour, there were already large crowds of people. It was the time when commuters pour into the city center. The usual chaos of people hurrying to make up valuable seconds on the way to work was omnipresent.

The delicious scent of fresh bread and coffee wafted to them from the many bakeries within the station. Chris's stomach began to grumble. Leaving the house without breakfast was definitely not his favorite start to the day.

Lara walked determinedly next to him and looked concentrated on her smartphone screen while she searched for the right train track.

"Hey, if you would finally tell me where we're going, I could actually help!" Neither on the subway nor since their arrival at the station had she given him the slightest hint of where she wanted to take him.

"Track seven!" Lara pointed towards an escalator that led down to the other train tracks about twenty meters away. "Our train is leaving in a minute. I just bought the tickets online. Hurry, we need to run!"

She gave Chris a slap and sprinted off. Although it was not far, a dense crowd of people suddenly flooded towards them. Apparently, a train had just arrived, and the passengers were making their way to the exit. Apparently, a dozen disoriented golden agers were slowly moving right in front of them, dragging their numerous trolleys and bags in such a slow motion that Chris couldn't help but feel reminded of the legendary zombie series 'The Walking Dead'. Luckily, Lara and Chris loved any form of sports challenge. Skillfully, they ran through the crowd as in a formidable obstacle course, down the escalator and reached the right track just in time to jump on the train.

"Made it!" Lara triumphantly shouted, out of breath. They dropped into two free seats, and the train set off. "Great timing, huh?" Lara gasped relieved and poked Chris with a smile in his rips.

"Well, I prefer to have slightly less stressful morning exercises," he replied with a twinkle before turning serious. "But now no jokes anymore, Lara. It's time to tell me what's going on and where we're going!"

Lara sighed. "Okay, alright. So, we're going to Sylt. We're meeting my mentor, Professor Pfeiffer. He can explain best what's going on and why we need you."

Chris was puzzled. Sylt? Germany's second largest, and by far most famous and prestigious island? Professor? He gave her a questioning look. But she only answered his curiosity with a shake of her head and gave him the same amused look that she had given him back in Ecuador when, on their first mutual date, he had whispered some inappropriate yet very creative proposals for the remaining evening into her ear.

"What? You're not going to tell me more? You can't be serious!"

"Shh..." She put her finger to her lips and lowered her voice.

"Just be patient for a bit. I know, this whole situation is annoying, but our secret is simply too sensitive. We have to be careful." Lara looked suspiciously around the train compartment, which was almost fully occupied. "It's not a good idea to tell you more with all these people around."

Chris rolled his eyes. For the time being, it seemed he had to accept her thin explanations.

"Fine. I'll wait until we meet your professor." He put on a mischievous grin. "But you have to tell me everything that happened since we last spoke, especially how much you missed me."

Lara laughed.

"Okay, deal." She was happy to chat with him again. And she was grateful that she had found his address in the Hamburg suburb, which he had written down for her on a used napkin during their last evening out back then in Ecuador. She has been lucky too, as she had even found him at home when she popped by his place spontaneously after countless failed attempts to reach him by phone or email for days. She knew that during his travels, he sometimes had no phone reception for weeks, but she had anyway wanted to make this final attempt. In hindsight, she was even proud to have asked the taxi driver to drop her off a few streets away to walk the last block to his house.

Otherwise, she probably would not have noticed in time the suspicious white delivery truck, which had been parked by the side of the road right opposite his house. Could it have been a coincidence that this unknown man was waiting motionless in that van in the middle of the night? She did not know. But in doubt, she did not want to take a chance. Sneaking through the garden and entering the house through the patio was the right decision. Accidentally dropping the vase was an unfortunate collateral damage, but she would make up for it.

Good thing that Chris was home alone. She did not want to imagine how embarrassing it would have been if she had interrupted him on a romantic evening with another woman.

With her clever and ingenious questioning technique over the past few hours, she had successfully deduced that he was single, just like her. Bingo, she thought, pleased with her crafty interrogation tactics.

The next few hours on the train were fun. Laughter and inside jokes filled the air, as the friends talked about good-old times and shared their stories since they left off. The hours flew by in a blur of conversation. When the loudspeaker finally crackled with the announcement of their destination, the central railway station of Sylt, Chris had almost forgotten why they had come.

CHAPTER 6

Chris had known the island of Sylt since he was a child. He had spent many summer holidays here with his parents, and ever since, he kept visiting this place for its endless white beaches, unspoiled nature, and rejuvenating rough climate. He loved soaking up the warm rays of the sun, riding the waves on his windsurfing board, and savoring the breeze of salty ocean air. And he couldn't imagine a better place to be than sitting amidst the spectacular dune landscapes, with a good bottle of wine, watching the stunning sunset on a warm summer evening.

Although Sylt was known as 'the Hamptons of Germany' - a place associated with wealth and exclusivity - Chris saw it as a place where people from all walks of life could sit side by side and enjoy the sound of the waves and the relaxing beach life.

Young or old, billionaire or backpacker, the audience was always diverse and never boring. People strolled along the promenade, enjoyed the hustle and bustle in the pedestrian zone, or simply explored the island by bicycle. At one of the endless sandy beaches, with their typical Strandkörbe - extremely cozy, fully covered chairs for two people - all status symbols lost their meaning.

And it was no secret that these comfortable chairs became an El Dorado for heartbreakers after dark. Chris had a number of friends who had scored decisive points with their dream women against the backdrop of a romantic sunset and the relaxed sound of the ocean waves. Some had made it right to the third base and, in particularly successful cases, even made a straight home run. No wonder so many couples got married on this island, here, where it all began.

In fact, Chris too had his own share of experience with how these cozy basket chairs could perform true miracles under a sparkling starry sky. However, it was not necessarily the safest place for an exciting evening with one's true love. Only a few Casanovas knew that these bulky chairs are sometimes inspected by inquisitive guards at night. Chris once experienced such a memorable moment when he was caught red-handed with his then-girlfriend many years ago. "Excuse me, what are the two of you exactly doing there?", the curious inspector had shouted at them indignantly. He then had turned night into day with a gigantic flashlight that brightly illuminated their beach chair. Chris had felt as if they were being targeted by an antiaircraft searchlight from close range. Their passionate and artistically valuable performance, which they had just completed at this very moment, would have certainly justified this media attention. But Chris didn't like spectators. At least not male ones.

Fortunately, their uninvited guest had quickly disappeared after Chris had given him such an outraged look that the man must have feared getting a one-way ticket into the freezing waters of the North Sea.

So, the island of Sylt had plenty of hidden jewels and extraordinary experiences for every visitor. You just had to keep your eyes open.

In that moment, the train slowed down. A few minutes earlier, they had crossed the impressive dam that connected the island with the mainland. The moment when, after hours of driving, one finally leaves the German mainland behind and sees the glittering North Sea on both sides of the train was always breathtaking.

The train pulled into the station. When Chris and Lara got off, it was still before lunchtime.

"It's nice to be back, huh?" Lara cheerfully hooked her arm in his as the two walked next to each other down the platform and headed for the exit.

"Yeah, not bad, actually."

Under the cloudless deep blue sky, the sun shone down with brilliant intensity, casting a warm and welcoming glow over everything in sight. As Chris breathed in the unique and intoxicating scent of the island - a heady mixture of saltwater, sand, and flowers - he felt his heart swell with a sense of lightness and contentment. A gentle breeze danced across the landscape, its cool touch carrying the sweet perfume of local flowers and the salty scent of the sea. Despite the heat, the temperature was a comfortable twenty degrees Celsius. Although the day had started early and bumpy, he now felt fresh and lively. As always when he came to this place.

When they reached the exit, Lara pointed to a black limousine that was waiting for them just a few meters away on the opposite parking lot.

"There is our driver."

"Wow, good logistics." Chris nodded impressed as they walked towards the car. He was not used to such luxurious services on his trips.

"Thanks," Lara replied, opened the door of the black Mercedes and climbed in. "Just wait for what you'll see today."

"Well, I admit I'm curious." He stored his travel bag in the trunk and then sat next to Lara on the back seat, smiling. In a way, it felt like a crazy Hollywood movie that he had accidentally landed in.

The Mercedes started moving and merged into the traffic. They looked out of the window, as the elegant car drove along the main road, and were able to catch a glimpse of the bustling shopping streets in the city center. August was high season.

Crowds of vacationers wandered around the pedestrian zone, holding a fish sandwich or an ice cream in their hands. Only few were aware of the danger that loomed high above their heads: huge seagulls circled the sky and patiently waited for an opportunity to dive down and steal their unsuspecting victims' fish filet with such surgical precision as one would only expect from the majestic sea eagles in the wild steppes of North America.

During the train ride, Lara had given Chris some information after all. However, she had persistently left out the really important details. At least, she had revealed that the professor was an art patron for whom she had been working on a secret project for several months now.

The driver maneuvered the limousine onto the picturesque country road heading north. They saw green meadows with grazing cows and horses, and passed by a majestic, black and white striped lighthouse.

"By the way, I'm sure that you will like the professor," Lara said confidently.

"Hmm, let's see. How do you actually know him?"

He could remember that she had told him some details about the professor on the train. However, the friendly vendor from the train bistro pushing the snacks trolley had interrupted them at that very moment. Chris had been so distracted in putting together his breakfast that he had only perceived Lara's explanations as distant background noise. This was a reflex that proved to be quite useful during the weekly team meetings in his office, too. Some of his colleagues had the unpleasant tendency of initiating pointless and unnecessary discussions, which regularly pushed him, the Doer, to the brink of insanity.

However, Chris felt now a bit uncomfortable with his little memory lapse with Lara.

"I already told you all that earlier," she complained and looked at him, as if he were in the advanced stage of dementia. "Didn't you listen to me?"

Chris knew this look from his previous relationships. Like many men who, like him, were from time to time distracted for a fraction of a second or unwisely filtered out the monotonous acoustic signals of their respective conversation partners.

If caught, Chris often used to refer to the scientifically proven caveman theory. For connoisseurs, also known as homo habilis.

This human species had learned over millions of years of evolution to ignore non-life-threatening sensory stimuli for self-preservation. Hunters and gatherers, killing mammoths, picking berries, genetic disposition and so on and so forth. An argument that was not always well-received by his ex-girlfriends.

Over the years, Chris became wiser and smarter. Meanwhile, he knew that a man could only lose such a battle despite the undoubtedly strong factual evidence. Therefore, he changed his strategy fundamentally and instead only shrugged apologetically in these very rare instances. Also, it always helped to add an undefinable tone like a little grunt that was supposed to sound like an apology. In his experience, this strategy usually worked best.

Also, this time. As expected, Lara rolled her eyes, but let it be.

"As I said earlier," she began, speaking now with a very slow and clear voice, as if she was talking to a child. A typical reaction, that Chris had regularly observed in similar situations. Fascinating. He quickly pushed the thought aside and tried to pay attention while Lara continued.

"I met Professor Pfeiffer a few months ago at my old university in Frankfurt. There was a guest lecture on my favorite topic, 'early civilizations.' We spoke and discussed ancient scripts and the history of Egypt and Ethiopia." She paused and looked at him sharply to make sure he was listening this time. When she saw his attentive face, she seemed satisfied and continued.

"A few days later, the professor called me and asked if I would help him with a secret project. It's really incredible what we've found out since then!"

"Not bad. And how can this professor afford to live in a place as expensive as Sylt?"

"Well, as far as I know, he owns a consulting firm that makes a lot of money. Since he has neither wife nor children, he spends his money on art. It's his passion. Isn't that fantastic?"

"Okay, fine. Let's meet that guy."

Chris was curious now. What did that professor want from him?

He was generally always open to new projects. And if the guy really had so much money, then he would be happy to help him ease this burden in exchange for his invaluable services.

"Why are you grinning?" Lara asked while he was daydreaming.

Chris felt caught again and made a mental note to better control his facial expressions from now on.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just looking forward to being back on Sylt. I didn't expect that you would kidnap me for a romantic weekend with such an excuse."

"Sorry, wishful thinking, Chris." Lara laughed. "But when the job is done, we can think about it."

Their driver took a few turns on the increasingly narrow side roads and finally drove at a slow pace on a picturesque gravel path surrounded by well-tended gardens. In this posh neighborhood one could witness what talented hands could create with a hedge trimmer.

They stopped in front of a massive iron gate, framed on both sides by a man-high impenetrable hedge. Any view through the gate and onto the property was impossible.

"Now it's showtime, we're here," Lara whispered.

A few seconds later, the gate slid open and cleared the way into the driveway. The Mercedes accelerated slightly as they drove towards the impressive entrance door of the thatched property, surrounded by countless red roses. A small, elderly man with a white beard and round glasses, dressed in a neatly tailored brownish tweed suit was already waiting there, looking at them with a confident smile.

CHAPTER 7

C