PART 5 — The Net Closes
My heart seemed to stop. The icy reality of the words in the diary slowly sank in as Victor's shadow grew larger in the window's reflection. For forty years, I had believed I could judge people, but in the past twenty-four hours, everything I had known with certainty about my life and my surroundings had collapsed like a house of cards.
"You shouldn't have read that book, Maria," Victor said. His voice was no longer the concerned, warm voice of my husband's friend. It was a cool, emotionless tone.
I tried to keep my breathing under control, even though it felt like a heavy stone lay on my chest. I turned around very slowly in my chair. Victor was standing there, the black gun rigidly aimed at me. The dimmed moonlight streaming through the window made the metal barrel glisten.
"Why, Victor?" I asked, continuing to speak to buy time and look for a possible escape route. Elena was still fast asleep on the sofa on the other side of the room. She was so exhausted she hadn't noticed anything. "Thomas considered you like a brother. He welcomed you into our home. We ate together, celebrated birthdays…"
Victor laughed mockingly, a sound devoid of any joy. "Thomas was naive, Maria. He thought he could save the world by hiding a few papers. He didn't understand the dynamics of power. The people I work for offer things a simple little state pension can never provide: wealth, influence, security."
"Security?" I repeated bitterly. "You're a murderer. You murdered Thomas, didn't you?"
Victor's expression didn't change. "It wasn't my intention for him to die. I only wanted the location of the safe deposit box in Brussels. But his heart failed during our… conversation. He was always weak at that point. But he was smart enough to hide the key before I could search the room."
A surge of anger replaced the fear in my veins. The man responsible for my husband's death, the man who had left me believing for months that Thomas had died of natural causes, stood before me now, grinning.
"And Elena?" I asked, nodding toward the sleeping woman on the sofa. "What does she have to do with this? Why did she bring me those food plates?"
Victor glanced briefly at Elena. "Elena knew nothing. She was just an instrument. I knew Thomas had built a relationship of trust with her in his final months. I made sure she found the box in Thomas's old shed, knowing full well that her guilt over her own loneliness would drive her to contact you. I had to make sure you brought the key to light. You are the only one who knows how the safety deposit box in Brussels is opened, because the bank requires biometric verification or a password only Thomas could have entrusted to you."
"I don't know the password," I said honestly. "He never told me anything."
"I don't believe that," Victor said, taking a step forward. "Thomas loved you too much to leave you without instructions. Think, Maria! What was his last word? What did he say when he died?"
My thoughts went back to that terrible night five years ago. Thomas lay in the hospital bed, his hand in mine. His lips moved, but barely a sound came out. I always thought he was whispering my name. But now…
'Rose Garden,' he had whispered. Back then, I thought he was hallucinating about the rose bushes in our backyard.
I looked Victor straight in the eyes, refusing to back down. "He didn't say anything. He just held my hand."
Victor grunted angrily and cocked the pistol. "Don't lie to me! We're leaving for Brussels now. You're going to open that safety deposit box for me, or I'll make sure your friend here on the sofa never wakes up again."
At that exact moment, something unexpected happened.
Elena, who had clearly been awake the entire time and observing the situation, suddenly sat up from the sofa. With immense effort, she grabbed a heavy brass floor lamp standing on the side table next to the sofa and swung it with full force toward the back of Victor's head.
The lamp struck him with a dull thud. Victor stumbled forward, let out a cry of pain, and dropped his pistol. The weapon slid across the wooden floor toward the window.
"Maria, run!" Elena screamed with a cracking voice.
Victor recovered faster than expected. He grabbed Elena by the arm and hurled her against the wall. She fell to the floor groaning. Victor turned around furiously, his forehead bleeding heavily where the lamp had hit him.
"You're not going anywhere!" he roared, lunging for the pistol.
I didn't hesitate for a second. Instead of fleeing, I ran to the desk, grabbed the heavy wooden box, and hurled it with all my might straight into Victor's face just as he reached for the gun.
The corner of the box struck him hard on the temple. Victor collapsed and lay motionless on the floor.
I stood there panting, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Elena crawled up laboriously, holding her shoulder. "Is he… is he dead?" she whispered fearfully.
I knelt down and felt his pulse on his neck. "No, he's just unconscious. But we don't have much time."
I picked the pistol up from the floor—an object I had never touched in my life—and slipped it into my jacket pocket. Then I grabbed the wooden box, the key, and the diary.
"We have to go to Brussels," I told Elena. "We need to be there before his men discover he failed."
"How are we supposed to get there?" Elena asked. "He has the car keys!"
I leaned forward and searched the unconscious Victor's pockets. I found the car keys, his wallet, and a mobile phone. On the phone screen, a new message from an unknown number flashed:
'The safe deposit box in Brussels has been placed under guard. The buyer arrives at 09:00. Make sure the woman is there.'
I glanced at the wall clock. It was four-thirty in the morning. We had less than five hours to reach Brussels, open the safe deposit box, and destroy the contents before the buyer arrived.
We hurried outside, got into Victor's car, and drove down the dark forest path. The fog was slowly lifting, but rain was now pouring down in sheets from the sky.
While Elena drove, I opened Thomas's diary again to the final pages. I wanted to understand what 'Rose Garden' meant.
And then I saw it. On the very last page was a hand-drawn map of a small town near the Belgian border, with a red cross marking an old monastery named 'Our Lady of the Rose Garden'.
Beneath the map, Thomas had written: 'The safe deposit box in Brussels is a trap. The real documents are in the place where our love began.'
My breath caught. Brussels was a diversion! Thomas had known Victor would force him or that they would go to Brussels.
"Elena!" I cried out. "Change direction! We're not going to Brussels. We're going to Baarle-Nassau!"
But just as Elena jerked the steering wheel to turn off the highway, I saw two pairs of piercing blue flashing lights appear in the rearview mirror. They weren't police cars. They were black SUVs catching up to us at breakneck speed…
* * *
