Part 4 — The Book of Lies
The SUV sliced through the worsening snowfall like a dark wedge. The monotone roar of the engine was the only sound in the freezing silence of the winter night. Elias sat in the back seat, clutching the grey box frantically against his knees. His hands were numb from cold and horror.
He stared at the driver's profile. The scar running from his left temple down to his jaw was unmistakable.
“You... You're dead,” Elias whispered, his voice fragile. “The police said back then... the driver of the other car... Markus Weber... he burned in the wreckage.”
The man at the wheel glanced briefly in the rearview mirror. His eyes were icy grey, devoid of emotion. “The police believe what they are fed to believe, Mr. Vermeer. Sometimes a burned corpse is just a convenient body from the morgue, provided you have enough money to pay off the coroners.”
“Who are you?” Elias shouted, desperation fraying his nerves. “And what did you do to my wife?”
Elena, sitting in the passenger seat, turned around slowly. Her gaze was compassionate, yet her expression remained resolute. “Elias, calm down. Markus wasn't Anna's killer. He was her protector. Just like me.”
“Protector?” Elias laughed hysterically. “Protected from what? She was an art teacher at a high school! We led a completely normal life!”
“A normal life?” Markus chimed in, maneuvering the heavy vehicle skillfully through a sharp bend. The tires squealed on the slippery asphalt. “Do you truly believe a simple art teacher commands over three million euros in secret accounts in Liechtenstein? Or masters encryption codes used by intelligence agencies?”
Elias felt the ground beneath him crumble. Everything he had believed in for the past thirty years seemed to turn to dust. Anna. His gentle, loving Anna, who used to knit by the fireplace in the evenings, plant roses in the garden, and cry during sad movies... an entire life built on a lie?
“That's impossible,” he muttered. “This is all a mistake. A nightmare.”
“Not a nightmare, Elias. Reality,” Elena said softly. “Anna's name wasn't Vermeer. Her real name was Anouk van der Meer. She was a former analyst for Dutch intelligence. Twenty-five years ago, she walked away after discovering an illegal financial network operating within the agency—a ring laundering black-market money from organized crime. She stole their master database: the key addresses to billions in assets. And she hid them.”
“In this box?” Elias asked, looking down at the grey block on his knees.
“Not the data itself,” Markus replied. “But the access to it. And your son, Julian... he found out who his mother really was.”
Elias felt a wave of nausea wash over him. “Julian? But he was just a child when we got married! He was my son!”
“Julian is not your biological son, Elias,” Elena said gently.
Those words struck Elias like a physical blow to the stomach. The air rushed out of his lungs. The interior of the car seemed to spin around him. “What... what are you saying?”
“Anna was already pregnant when she met you,” Elena explained. “She needed the ultimate cover. An honest, blameless, peaceful man. An accountant who would never ask questions, who lived a quiet life. She chose you, Elias, because you were the best cover she could ever find. She used you to raise Julian and stay under the organization's radar.”
“No... no!” Elias cried, tears of rage and pain welling in his eyes. “She loved me! I know she loved me!”
“Perhaps she did in the end,” Elena said softly. “But the beginning was a complete lie. And Julian... Julian discovered three years ago who his biological father really was. The head of the organization Anna had robbed. A man named Viktor Kroll.”
Elias clutched his head. The revelations piled on, threatening to shatter his sanity. His wife a spy. His son not his son, but the offspring of a criminal mastermind. And his entire marriage—a staged farce?
“Why are you telling me all this now?” he asked, his voice broken. “Why after all these years?”
“Because Kroll died in prison two months ago,” Markus answered. “And Julian is now trying to claim his biological father's legacy. He wants the money. But to reach that wealth, he needs the contents of this box. And for that, he needs something only you possess, Elias.”
Elias looked up. “What could I possibly possess? I'm a retired tax consultant! I have nothing!”
“You have the biometric encryption,” Elena said. “Anna sealed the box's lock with a DNA pattern. It only responds to the DNA of the man recorded as her husband in official records—or to her son's. But because Julian's genes are altered by Kroll's bloodline, his DNA is incomplete. He needs your DNA—your blood—to trick the lock!”
At that moment, a loud bang shattered the night.
The rear window of the SUV exploded into a thousand tiny glass fragments. An icy draft rushed into the vehicle. Elias ducked, screaming.
Behind them in the snowy night, the aggressive headlights of a massive black SUV surged forward. Through the shattered rear glass, Elias saw a figure leaning out of the pursuer's sunroof.
It was Julian. He held a heavy, dark handgun, aimed directly at their tires.
“He's shooting at us!” Markus yelled, jerking the steering wheel. The vehicle began to fishtail.
“He doesn't want to kill us! He wants to stop the car!” Elena shouted. “Markus, hit the gas!”
A second shot cracked through the night. This time, the bullet struck the rear left tire. The SUV lost traction completely, spun twice on its axis, and slammed with violent force against the guardrail of an old stone bridge.
The impact was brutal. Airbags deployed with a loud pop. Metal screeched. Elias was thrown forward, his seatbelt cutting deep into his chest.
When the motion finally stopped, the vehicle hung precariously over the edge of the bridge. Beneath them roared a turbulent, half-frozen river.
Elias coughed as smoke rose from the dashboard. Markus lay unconscious over the steering wheel, blood streaming from a wound on his temple. Elena groaned softly, unable to move.
Elias glanced behind him. The grey box lay undamaged on the floor of the wreckage.
Then he heard footsteps in the snow. Crunching. Slow. Inevitable.
The driver's door of the pursuer's SUV slammed shut. The shadowy figure of Julian stepped up to the shattered passenger window. He stared down through the broken glass at the dazed Elias.
Julian smiled—a cold, terrifying smile. He raised his weapon and aimed the black barrel directly at Elias's forehead.
“Thanks for the ride, Dad,” Julian said softly. “Now hand over my inheritance. Or do I have to wipe your blood off the seat to get it?”
