Chapter 10 - The White-Haired Woman’s Offer
The colorful woman gripped my wrist, silently warning me not to move.
But the white-haired woman’s words had already shattered every careful thought inside me.
My daughter was on the train.
Every second we remained hidden carried her farther away.
I stepped out from behind the crates.
The two guards raised their flashlights.
The colorful woman cursed under her breath and followed.
The white-haired woman studied me with unsettling calm.
She was older than I had first thought, perhaps in her late sixties, yet she stood perfectly straight. A silver pin shaped like a railway wheel fastened her gray coat.
“You came off the train sooner than expected,” she said.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Safe for now.”
“Show me.”
She gestured to one of the guards.
He handed me a tablet.
A live camera showed the inside of an empty black carriage.
My daughter sat alone on a wooden bench, still bound.
The windows were covered.
A red light pulsed above the door.
I touched the screen.
“She can’t hear you,” the woman said.
“What do you want?”
“The pendant.”
“My husband has it.”
“We know.”
“Then go after him.”
“We are.”
Her expression hardened.
“But he removed the inner cylinder before boarding.”
I remembered the way he had held the pendant to the camera.
Perhaps what I saw had only been the outer shell.
“What is the final carriage?”
The woman looked toward the steel door behind us.
“Ask the man trapped there.”
Daniel remained silent.
She smiled faintly.
“You see? Even now, he refuses to tell you the whole truth.”
I turned toward the door.
“Daniel?”
No answer.
The white-haired woman stepped closer.
“Your first husband helped build the system he later tried to destroy.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
She removed a photograph from her coat.
Daniel stood beside several men on a railway platform.
Younger.
Smiling.
And beside him stood my current husband.
They were shaking hands.
A date was printed below the image.
Twenty-three years ago.
One year before Daniel disappeared.
I stared at the steel door.
“Tell me she’s lying.”
Daniel’s voice came quietly.
“I can’t.”
The tunnel seemed to tilt.
“You knew him?”
“Yes.”
“You worked with him?”
“At first.”
The white-haired woman watched me carefully.
“Your daughter was never chosen randomly. Neither were you. Your family has been part of this for decades.”
I felt sick.
The train horn sounded above us.
Only once.
The tablet image changed.
My daughter stood suddenly as someone entered her carriage.
A hooded figure approached her.
I could not see the face.
Then the figure removed the hood.
It was my father.
The man we had visited only hours earlier.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Anna,” he said, “do not trust either of your husbands.”
The screen went black.
The white-haired woman’s calm expression finally broke.
“That’s impossible.”
May you like
Above us, the black train began moving.
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