Chapter 11 - THE SEAT SHE NEVER TOOK
Z
For several seconds, I couldn't understand the sentence.
“You were supposed to be in his car?”
Elena nodded.
“Thomas offered to drive me home after the meeting. I had missed the last train, and he said it was no trouble.”
“What happened?”
“I received a phone call. Someone told me there had been a problem with the document and that I needed to return to the office immediately. I asked Thomas to leave without me.”
“Who called you?”
“I don't know. The number was blocked.”
I stared at her.
“So you weren't in the car when he died.”
“No.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“I told them I had spoken to him that evening. I did not tell them about the call.”
“Why not?”
Elena lowered her eyes.
“Because the person who called me knew where I was. They knew I was supposed to leave with Thomas. After the accident, I received a message saying I should be grateful I had missed the ride.”
I felt cold all over.
“Why didn't you report that?”
“I did. The message came from an unregistered number. The investigation went nowhere. Then I was followed, and someone broke into my hotel room. I began to believe that if I stayed away from you, they would leave you alone.”
I shook my head.
“They entered my apartment last week.”
Elena's face changed.
“Did they take anything?”
“No. They left a message.”
She closed her eyes.
“Then they know you're close.”
“Who are they?”
“I don't know.”
I wanted to scream.
Seven years of fear.
Seven years of silence.
And still no name.
Rachel stepped closer.
“Ms. Markovic, do you have the microfilm with you?”
Elena held up the fountain pen.
“Yes. But I would like the transfer documented.”
Rachel nodded.
“We can do that.”
She took photographs of the pen, recorded the time and location, and prepared a signed receipt. Elena then placed the pen in a protective evidence bag.
I watched every movement.
It was such a small object.
My father had carried it in his jacket pocket for years.
He used it to mark books, write notes, and correct my essays.
Now it might contain evidence that could explain why he had died.
***
We arranged for the pen to be examined by an independent forensic specialist.
The microfilm was recovered from the storage compartment and digitized under controlled conditions.
It contained a photograph of the original contract, including the complete text in English and the certified translation in Hungarian.
The two versions did not match the document that had been submitted to the registry.
The original required independent verification before the shipment could be released.
The altered version made it appear that approval had already been granted.
At the bottom of the original was a handwritten note.
Release suspended pending review.
The note bore Victor Sokolov's initials.
Rachel studied the image.
“This establishes that the original contract was different from the submitted version. It also establishes that Victor Sokolov signed the suspension.”
I looked at Elena.
“Did my father take the photograph?”
“I believe so. He said he needed proof that the original existed.”
“Why didn't he give it to the authorities?”
“He intended to. He was trying to find someone he could trust with the evidence.”
“And instead, he died.”
Elena looked down.
“Yes.”
***
Nikolai met with us the following day, after Rachel confirmed that the microfilm had been secured.
He studied the image of his father's signature.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, “He knew the translation was false.”
“Yes,” Rachel replied. “The signature and the date support that conclusion.”
Nikolai looked at Elena.
“Did you ever speak to my father after the meeting?”
“Once. He told me the dispute would be handled internally.”
“Did he mention Roman?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you he suspected anyone?”
Elena shook her head.
“He seemed frightened, but he never named the person he feared.”
Nikolai leaned back.
“My father told me he had ordered the investigation suspended because there was insufficient evidence.”
“Perhaps he believed that at first,” Rachel said. “The document suggests he later had reason to know more.”
Nikolai looked toward the window.
“I spent my life believing he had protected the family.”
Elena's voice softened.
“Perhaps he was trying to protect it. That doesn't mean he made the right choices.”
He looked at her.
“You think he was afraid?”
“I think people can be afraid and powerful at the same time.”
For once, Nikolai had no answer.
***
That evening, he asked me to walk with him along the river.
We stood beside the railing as the lights of the city shimmered across the water.
“I keep thinking about the man my father was when I was a child,” he said. “He taught me to read contracts. He told me never to sign something I didn't understand.”
I waited.
“Then he became the person who signed a document suspending an investigation and apparently never told me why.”
“People are complicated.”
“That's a generous way to describe him.”
“It's an accurate one.”
He turned toward me.
“Do you hate your father for keeping secrets?”
The question caught me off guard.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he was trying to protect me. Maybe he made mistakes. Maybe he should have told me more. But I know he loved me.”
I looked at the river.
“I can be angry about what he hid without pretending everything else about him was a lie.”
Nikolai absorbed that.
Then he nodded slowly.
“I wish I knew how to do that.”
“Start by letting the evidence tell you who he was, instead of deciding in advance.”
He gave a faint smile.
“You sound like your father.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
For a moment, we stood quietly.
Then he said, “Aria, I want to apologize again for the way I treated you that first night.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I keep remembering how easily I assumed you were beneath me. You were standing there doing your job, and I thought your uniform told me everything I needed to know.”
I considered his words.
“You weren't the first person to do that.”
“That doesn't make it acceptable.”
“No. It doesn't.”
He nodded.
“I can't undo it.”
“No.”
“But I can stop doing it.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“That would be a good beginning.”
He smiled faintly.
May you like
“I'll take a beginning.”
And for the first time, I believed he meant it.
