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THE HUNGARIAN RAINS had soaked the girl through and through, and standard Privy Council interrogation took a momentary backseat. Blankets were produced. Chairs were dragged together. Tristan dug around in Jacob’s empty cupboards long enough to make a cup of tea.
Simon sat very still, watching the woman’s every move as Tristan flitted noiselessly around the kitchen. She was so tiny. Delicate. With enormous sparkling eyes and tumbles of dark hair that were dripping a steady puddle onto the hardwood floors. But Simon had been secretly dating a similar such creature for years. He knew better by now than to be deceived by a princess exterior. He looked for tells instead. And, just as he suspected, he wasn’t disappointed.
The trembling came and went. It was a defensive reaction, not a weakness. Her eyes fell on the cabinet that stored the mugs before Tristan reached it himself. She had obviously been here before. Obviously knew more than she was letting on.
“Here,” Tristan handed her the steaming mug with the hint of a smile, “that should help with the cold.”
She took it with a nostalgic smile. “You English and your tea. Jacob always made a cup when he was troubled. Said it helped him calm down.”
Tristan and Simon exchanged a quick look before settling down on either side of her. It was a casual, yet strategic, move. One they’d done many times before. At this point, Simon was to lean back and observe—always at the ready—while Tristan took a more forward approach. The trusting one, the one you could open up to. Only Simon knew that his hand was constantly on his taser.
But before they could sink into their roles, the girl spoke again.
“I’m Lili.” She thrust her tiny hand into the air between them with a tight smile. “You must be Tristan. Jacob said you’re the nice one.”
Tristan froze for a second, thrown off his game, before shaking cautiously. “That’s true,” he said seriously, prompting a little smile. “Can you tell us...” He paused again, unsure how to proceed. This wasn’t like most of the interviews they’d conducted over the last year. To start, no one was bleeding. But there was something here that went beyond the obvious. The woman, Lili, might be more than she appeared, but she had yet to be anything but completely forthcoming. There was also a warmth when she said Jacob’s name, a kind of instinctual tenderness that was impossible to fake.
Finally, when the usual lines failed him, Tristan aimed for a truth. “How do you know Jake?”
How much do you know about Jake is perhaps a better question? But it’s a good start.
She leaned back in her chair, fingers tight around the mug. She had yet to take a sip of the tea, but the prop itself seemed to be helping. After giving both of them another appraising stare, she took a deep breath and began to talk. “This was not Jacob’s first time in Hungary. Did you know that?”
Again, Tristan leaned back in surprise. No, they most certainly didn’t know that. Not that they weren’t keeping in touch, but missions were classified for a reason. They didn’t know the places Jacob had been, any more than he knew they had recently broken into a high-security vault.
“No,” he said softly. “I didn’t.”
She nodded as if she had been expecting this. “He’s been here six times. Stays a few weeks before going back to London. This last visit was the longest.” Her eyes warmed at the thought. “He got to stay almost two whole months.”
Simon had been right. There was genuine affection there. A deep affection. One that he could relate to himself. Tristan saw it, too, and softened slightly before taking a different tack.
“He met you the first time?” he guessed. Lili paused frightfully, and he leaned forward reassuringly, those bright blue eyes setting her at ease. “He told me there was...someone. While he never got into the specifics, I’m guessing that someone is you.”
Simon looked sharply at his partner, his forehead creasing into a little frown. He didn’t know that Jacob was seeing anyone. Much less someone he’d met while away on a mission. How the hell would Tristan know that, and not him?
Lili kept her mouth shut, but her blush said it all. For a second the three of them looked away awkwardly, then Tristan gracefully moved the conversation onward. “You know who I am,” he said carefully, “and you knew Simon.”
They were treading on dangerous ground now. They weren’t sure how much she knew versus how much she didn’t. But she clearly wasn’t the one who’d done Jacob any harm, and the stakes were too high not to continue.
With that natural sincerity and charm that Simon so desired, Tristan leaned forward and took her gently by the hand. “Lili...we can’t find Jake. It’s been too long now. Too long for it to be simply excused away. Something’s happened to him, and I’m afraid—”
He cut off his voice suddenly, purposely leaving her on the edge of her seat, breathlessly fearing the worst. Again, it was a well-honed tactic. But it didn’t take much effort for Tristan to appear to be worried for Jacob. And, unfortunately, everything he’d said was true.
“I’m going to need you to tell me everything you know,” he pressed softly. “Places he went, people he saw. Anything that could help us. No detail is too small.”
A faint shudder rippled through her body, and without seeming to think about it she reached up to grip a necklace tucked under her shirt. Whatever it was, the action itself gave her strength. A second later, she started talking. “Jacob never told me much. He couldn’t—I understood that. The nature of his job, the nature of his visits here...that he never said. We talked about other things instead.” Her eyes lit up with a nostalgic smile. “Music, philosophy, art. He showed me his notebooks. That’s how I recognized you. He told me about his friends. Not what you did, but who you were. Every moment he wasn’t at work was a moment we spent together. We shared everything. I even lived here for a while...” She paused, considering it thoughtfully. “It was alright that he had secrets. I understood it was his job to keep them. I never asked him to tell me anything that could...that could put him at risk.”
In a way, her conclusion was far more ominous than Tristan’s. The three of them stared at the floor for a moment before she suddenly lifted her head, clearly eager now to be done and on her way.
“So what do you know?” Tristan prompted.
“A few days before he disappeared, a man showed up at the apartment. He was tall, middle-aged. Dark, curly hair. Jacob sent him on his way, but he didn’t leave. He grew more persistent, following us wherever we went. To the cinema. To the marketplace. Back home every night. After a few days, Jacob started acting strange. He sent me to stay with my father instead, but wouldn’t tell me why. I think he was afraid that I might...” There was a swish of dark wet hair as she suddenly stood. “You find the man—you find Jacob.”
Tristan and Simon leapt to their feet, hurrying after her as she headed for the door. Under normal circumstances they would never permit a person in her position to leave. Except...her position didn’t exactly fall into the category of ‘normal circumstances.’
Simon shot Tristan a look, but Tristan shook his head sharply. No, they would not keep her here. Force her to stay. She was in no immediate danger. There was no reason to use her as leverage. Whoever this mystery man was, he’d already gotten what he came for. Jacob.
“How will we know where to find you?” Simon asked quickly. They would at least keep tabs on her until the mission was complete. “In case we learn anything new.”
She wrapped a silk scarf tightly around her, pulling it up over her head to protect her from the rain. “I’m staying with my father. His name’s Julian Bányai. He runs an art gallery across town.”
The door opened and a rush of cold air poured in, chilling the little apartment in a matter of seconds. Both boys shivered, but she was used to the cold. She did, however, pause in the doorframe, her fingers returning once again to the necklace beneath her shirt.
“I was coming to England,” she said softly. “Jacob was going to take me. Both of us—” She stopped herself quickly, then stared entreatingly up into Simon’s eyes. “It’s very important that I find him. You will let me know?”
Simon nodded curtly, not used to being the emotionally relatable one. “The second we hear anything.” Both of them? Her and her father?
She nodded swiftly then left, vanishing in the dark night before either one of them could say a word.
They stood in the doorway for a moment, watching, before Simon stepped back.
“Not your average interrogation,” he said softly, shooting a quick glance at Tristan.
Tristan kept his eyes locked on the shadows outside, his shoulders falling with an inaudible sigh. “We’ll go to the gallery in the morning. See what we can turn up.”
Simon nodded and shut the door behind them, and then they headed back inside to the warmth. There were still three chairs pushed in the center of the room. The mug of tea sat untouched and still steaming.
As Tristan dumped it out in the sink, Simon turned to him curiously. “Why didn’t Jake tell me that he was seeing anyone? How did you know, but not me?”
“I didn’t,” Tristan said abruptly. “I guessed.”
Simon blinked in surprised, greatly impressed. “That’s a hell of a limb to go out on, you know, considering that we’re talking about our friend’s life.”
“I know that look,” Tristan said simply. “I’d know it anywhere. She’s in love with him. She’s in love with him...and she’s terrified something terrible’s going to happen.” He turned around to make up the couch but Simon stood casually in his path, crossing his arms over his chest in expectation.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
Tristan sighed again and ran his fingers back through his hair. “It’s the same look Mary gets every time I leave the house.” He sighed and yawned. “I’m exhausted. Let’s just catch a bit of shut-eye and then we can start this wild goose chase.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, SIMON and Tristan got up at the crack of dawn to begin their search. It was a stroke of luck that they’d met Lili on their first night. It meant that instead of aimlessly wandering the streets, hoping to pick up clues while spying on people in a language they only half-understood, they actually had a concrete destination. A hopeful place to launch their investigation.
“So...things have been strained with Mary?” Simon asked quietly as they moved through the busy streets. Apparently, the people of Hungary liked to get an early start on their day, too.
Tristan glanced at him quickly, then responded only with a tight shrug. He had been quick to go to bed the night before, but Simon sensed it was more out of conversational avoidance than the fact that he was tired. Sure enough, he was just as cagey today.
“You can talk to me about it, you know.”
He wasn’t used to being so empathetic. Then again, he wasn’t used to having to pry information out of Tristan either. The two of them told each other everything.
Well...almost everything.
“I’m serious, man,” Simon tried again, dodging around an old man pushing a cart full of fabrics over the cobblestone streets. “Whatever it is, I’m—”
“We’re here.” Tristan pushed open the door to the art gallery, effectively ending the conversation.
Simon glanced up at the letterhead before following him inside with a rueful smirk. Well played, Tris. Well played.
He was about to give his partner a well-deserved smack upside the head, but the second they walked inside they flattened themselves back up against the door.
“Julian—NO!”
An old woman streaked past, grabbing onto a ceramic statue before it could crash to the floor. A second later a head of dark hair streaked past Simon’s knees, and he saw what it was she was chasing. Much to his surprise, Tristan scooped up the kid with a set of practiced hands.
“This troublemaker belong to you?”
The woman stopped short, then chuckled as she reached over to take the toddler from his arms. “No, thank heavens. I’m just watching him during the class.”
She gestured behind her and the two men followed her gaze to a studio in back. Twenty or twenty-five people stood in absolute silence, hands flying over their canvases as they traced the woman posing before them in shades of charcoal. It was rather mesmerizing. The way she had frozen, suspended in the light, then reflected back from a dozen different perspectives.
Tristan nudged Simon gently in the shoulder, and he looked up to see an old man pacing between the rows of easels. He wore an old-fashioned painter’s cap to cover his silver ponytail, and a long brush was tucked absentmindedly behind his ear. The boys shared a look before casting a parting smile at the woman and drifting towards the class.
It felt strange, to interrupt the almost-reverent atmosphere created by the dimmed lights and soft music playing the background. None of the pupils working even looked up, but the old man did. He stopped his pacing almost at once and looked at the two of them appraisingly. A second later, he jerked his head towards a door in the corner. Simon nodded, and the three of them quietly followed him outside.
Simon blinked quickly as his eyes adjusted to the bright sun, ready with a million questions for the old man. Ready with a million things to say.
But once more, the stranger beat them to the punch.
“I’m guessing you boys aren’t here for a drawing lesson.”
Simon bowed his head, and Tristan blushed with an apologetic smile. “We’re sorry to interrupt you,” he said respectfully, “especially in the middle of a class. Are you Julian Bányai?”
The man cocked his head with a smile. “That I am.”
Tristan nodded with relief. “Mr. Bányai, my friend and I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter last night, and were hoping to ask you a few—”
“I know. Lili called me.” With the speed of a man who had long since surrendered himself to patience the old man hobbled over to a nearby bench and took a seat, motioning for Tristan and Simon to do the same. They followed obediently along and watched as he pulled an orange from his pocket and began slowly peeling it right there on the street. “So you’re here to ask me questions about Jacob.”
Again, with the Jacob! The guy was one of the most talented psychics the world had ever seen. He really couldn’t figure out what the Privy Council meant by code names?
“He’s a good lad. Liked him from the moment I laid eyes on him. A bit quiet, perhaps, but he obviously loves my daughter. And what more could a father ask for?”
Tristan and Simon glanced at each other uncomfortably. Delving into their friend’s personal life, either by intention or by mistake, was pretty damn high on their list of things not to do. But the old man was already winding down, looking at each one of them speculatively.
“I told Lili to let it go. To wait and he would turn back up again. He always did.” His eyes narrowed slightly in the blinding sun. “But judging by the looks on your faces, I’m guessing that’s not going to happen.”
“Please, sir,” Tristan tried again. “Before Jake went missing, Lili said they were being followed. If you could tell us anything—”
“No, I’m sorry, son, but I can’t. I don’t know anything about any of that, and I fully supported Jacob’s decision when he sent her back to stay with me. I don’t want my daughter mixed up in any of this nonsense, do you hear me?” He shook his head firmly. “Especially now.”
A faint frown formed between Simon’s eyes, but the old man softened by the end of his speech, staring down at the orange in deep contemplation. “That being said, I’ll do what I can to help Jacob.” He stared at them each for a second more, almost like he was sizing them up, before he reached suddenly into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope. “Jacob gave this to me a few days before he went missing. Asked me to give it to anyone who came looking for him.”
Simon’s heart leapt in his chest as he stared at the paper, but the man didn’t hold it out. He was still staring at them, trying to come to some sort of decision.
“A man did come the day after Jacob missed a family dinner. Showed up at the gallery in the middle of my morning class—just like you.”
Tristan’s muscles tensed in alarm. “A man? The same man who had been following Jake and Lili? Middle-aged, she described him. Tall, with curly dark hair?”
Mr. Bányai shook his head. “This man was tall, but he was young. Only a little bit older than you. And charming. Very charming.” The wrinkles by his eyes deepened in thought. “Too charming. I didn’t give him the letter.”
Simon’s mind raced as he tried to put it all together. They were after two men now? Both of them descended upon Hungary to capture his friend? Only, if the young one had shown up after Jacob went missing looking for answers, they couldn’t have been working together...
“No, I didn’t give him the letter,” Bányai repeated. “But you? You look like you can be trusted.” Without another word, he bypassed Simon entirely and handed Tristan the letter.
Typical, Simon thought ruefully as his friend folded it carefully and put it in his pocket.
But he couldn’t really be angry. That was their dynamic. That was Tristan’s role in their partnership. Good cop, bad cop. Nothing more to it than that. Right?
“Thank you,” Tristan said softly, clearly aching to rip the thing open but waiting until they’d left out of respect. “This should really help.”
The man nodded curtly, and led them back through the studio to the front of the store. The old woman was still trying her best to restrain the spirited toddler, and when the little boy saw the three of them come in he swung his arms wildly in delight, knocking another ceramic vase off the shelf. Tristan caught it at lightning speed, placing it back by the window with a little smile.
“He’s quite a handful.”
The old man chuckled, reaching out to take the child. “I’d expect nothing less from my grandson. We Bányais have always run wild. Call it artistic temperament.”
Simon and Tristan froze in their tracks. Then stared down at the little boy.
Suddenly it all made sense. Why Jacob had kept returning to Hungary. Why Lili was so desperate to find him. The old man said Jacob had missed a family dinner, said that he didn’t want his daughter caught up in any trouble especially now. Lili said Jacob was taking both of them back to England.
This is Jacob’s son.
The little boy gazed up at them, and it was impossible not to see the resemblance. They had the same dark eyes. The same shock of brown hair so rich in color it was almost black.
Without even thinking about it, Simon’s eyes drifted to the toddler’s little arm waving back and forth through the air. It was bare now, but give it fifteen years. Given how advanced Jacob’s ink was itself, there was no telling what sort of gift his child could develop. How powerful he could—
“Thank you,” Tristan said again, grabbing Simon suddenly by the arm. “You’ve been a great help. Tell Lili we’ll let her know the second we find anything.”
Simon’s eyes were locked on the child’s—Julian, the old woman said he was called. Named after his maternal grandfather. But Tristan yanked him so hard out the door all he could do was follow, unless he preferred his arm pulled right out of the socket.
“Shit, Tris!” He ripped it away the second they were outside, rubbing it petulantly as he glared at his friend. “What the hell was that about?”
“We got what we came for,” Tristan replied quickly, avoiding Simon’s gaze as he reached into his pocket and extracted the letter. “Time to get back to the case.”
Simon couldn’t believe it. “Time to get back to the case?!” he repeated incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? Jacob has a kid, Tristan! He has a freaking son! Aren’t we going to take a minute to, I don’t know, talk about that?!”
“What’s the big deal?” Tristan muttered, clumsily trying and failing to open the envelope again and again. “So he has a kid. We’re all adults here.”
Simon threw up his hands. “Seriously?! That’s all you’re going to say? That we’re all adults—”
“Simon.” Tristan cut him off with a sudden frown, gazing down at the letter. Simon stopped talking at once and took it for himself, eyes flying over Jacob’s messy script.
I don’t know who’s going to be reading this. I can’t see that far ahead. All I know is that someone’s after me. I don’t know if he’s related to the mission. I don’t even know who he is. He never gave me a name—only a calling card.
At this point, the handwriting grew faster. As if someone had called his name.
If something should happen to me, please send all my residual paychecks to the Bányai Gallery down by the river. You can send my personal effects there as well. – J. Decker
Both Simon and Tristan read through it twice. After they were finished Tristan tilted the envelope, and a tiny card fell into his hand. The same card that had been handed to Jacob by the man who’d apparently abducted him.
A dark feeling of dread tightened Simon’s chest, like trying to breathe through a thick fog.
He didn’t need to see the card to know the solitary letter imprinted upon it. He didn’t need to see Tristan’s confusion as he held it up in the air.
Simon already had a pretty damn good idea who had kidnapped his friend.
