Night of January 21st.
The chaos inside the compound was over.Now, the media chaos was beginning.
News channels across the country interrupted their regular programming. On every screen, the same red banner cut across the image.
BREAKING NEWS.
Anchors with tense expressions spoke bluntly:
—We must report extremely serious and distressing news. Today, during the morning and midday, Berlin police carried out a large-scale arrest operation. A human trafficking network has been dismantled. Inside the compound, more than twenty minors were found, between six and twelve years old, as well as teenagers and young adults between thirteen and twenty…
The footage showed patrol cars, ambulances, police officers cordoning off the area. No faces. No names yet.
In the main room of the detective headquarters, a large television broadcast the news in silence.
Niklas stood with his arms crossed. Hans and Susanne remained seated, motionless. The commander watched the screen with a deep frown. No one spoke.
The sound of the television was the only thing filling the room.
Finally, the commander spoke.
—Niklas. Hans. —he said—. My office.
Both nodded without a word and followed him.
They went up one floor and entered. The door closed behind them. The commander walked around the desk and sat down, resting his elbows on the wooden surface and interlacing his fingers.
—The operation isn't over yet —he began—. According to what you claim, Niklas, Von Hohenwald is the main figure behind this network.
He paused briefly.
—And that's a problem.
Niklas held his gaze.
—He's a nobleman —the commander continued—. He has money, influence, and direct ties to politics. If we don't act with extreme caution, this could turn against us.
—We need to arrest him tonight —Niklas replied without hesitation—. As long as he has room to maneuver, he can make evidence disappear… or people.
The commander studied him in silence for a few seconds.
—Before we talk about arrests —he finally said—, I need you to answer something.
He leaned forward slightly.
—How did you get the photos of the envelopes and those files? There was no office in the compound that held that material.
Niklas didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened.
—I have my contacts —he said at last—. That's all I can say.
The commander didn't seem satisfied, but he didn't push further. He turned slightly toward Hans, who remained serious, his gaze fixed on the floor.
—This stays in this office —the commander said—. If anything leaks too early, the case collapses.
Hans nodded.
—Understood.
Niklas, however, was no longer fully there.
In his mind, a thought slowly forced its way in, heavy with uncomfortable certainty.
How did Lars get those photos?Did he go to Hohenwald's mansion?
The image of the black cloak, the clown mask, the unnatural way he had vaulted the wall… it all came rushing back.
Niklas clenched his fists.
If Lars had gone in there, then he had seen more than he had admitted.
And if Von Hohenwald suspected something…
The commander spoke again, breaking the silence.
—We move tonight —he said—. But I need something solid. Something that can't be buried.
Niklas raised his eyes.
—You'll have it —he replied—. Von Hohenwald won't slip away this time.
Outside, Berlin remained lit by the city's night lights.But for some, the night was only just beginning.
At the Dominion palace, it was already night.
Dinner unfolded with an almost artificial calm. Lars, Klein, and Marcus sat around the main dining table. Servants moved with silent efficiency, placing dishes one by one in front of them and retreating without interruption.
The television was on, mounted on the far wall. The volume was low. None of the three paid attention to it.
They had spent the day occupied with other matters. Reports. Preparations. Long silences. When they sat down to eat, the conversation revolved around Dominion's internal conflicts—nothing related to the outside world.
Until a red banner appeared on the screen.
BREAKING NEWS.
All three looked up almost at the same time.
Marcus was the first to grab the remote and raise the volume.
The anchor spoke in a grave, measured voice.
—Breaking news. Police and detectives have arrested the main suspect believed to be leading the human trafficking network dismantled earlier today. As previously reported, authorities carried out a large-scale operation during the morning and midday. Just fifteen minutes ago, the nobleman Von Hohenwald was arrested, identified as the principal figure behind this criminal network.
An absolute silence settled over the dining room.
Images began to fill the screen.
Von Hohenwald's mansion, completely surrounded by patrol cars. Detectives coming and going. Police marking zones, cameras flashing, blue and red lights reflecting off the windows.
Then, him.
Von Hohenwald appeared escorted by two detectives. His hands were cuffed behind his back. He walked upright, his face eerily calm. He didn't look defeated.
Before getting into the police vehicle, he stopped.
He looked straight into the camera.
His eyes locked onto the lens with unsettling precision.
—I told you no one plays with me —he said—. No one.
The detectives pushed him into the car. Von Hohenwald sat without resistance. The camera caught his face one last time: he was smiling.
Handcuffed. Smiling.
The door closed.
The anchor kept talking, but no one was listening anymore.
Lars clenched his hand as he watched the screen and allowed himself a faint smile. Von Hohenwald had been caught. And yet, something didn't sit right.
The nobleman's words echoed over and over in his mind.
"I told you no one plays with me…"
Lars frowned.
Who was he talking to?Did he want to be discovered?Or was this arrest part of something larger?
While he remained lost in thought, Marcus watched him from across the table, his expression hard, filled with suspicion. He knew Lars was involved somehow.
—Lars, we need to talk after dinner —he finally said.
Lars looked at him. He already knew exactly why Marcus wanted to talk.
—Fine —he replied calmly.
But Klein didn't dance around the issue.
—Does this have anything to do with you, Lars? —he asked—. We saw you leave last night.
Lars didn't answer right away. He took his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and searched for something. When he found it, he slid the phone across the table toward them.
—That's what I found last night —he said—. Tell me yourself if I was supposed to just stand by and do nothing.
The photos appeared on the screen.
Marcus and Klein studied them in silence. The atmosphere grew heavy.
Klein was the first to speak.
—You're not supposed to get involved, Lars —he said firmly—. We told you that when you joined the organization. You have to be mentally strong. You'll see things like this… or worse, in the jobs we do.
Marcus nodded slightly.
—Sigmund, once he finds out, is going to want to know why a recent Dominion client was arrested.
Lars held both of their gazes.
—If that's the case, I'll take responsibility for everything —he said—. Don't worry.
He stood up, picked up his phone, and turned away.
—Good night, guys.
He left the dining room and went to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and sat at his desk, resting his elbows on the surface.
Klein and Marcus didn't even flinch at the images, he thought.
What other things must they have seen over all these years in Dominion?
That same night, at the detective station, Von Hohenwald sat inside the interrogation room. His cuffed hands rested on the metal table, his back straight, his expression calm. Too calm.
Niklas, Hans, and the commander watched him from behind the one-way mirror. The cold light of the interrogation room framed the nobleman as if he were posing, not being questioned.
—Hohenwald said he won't speak without a lawyer —Niklas commented, without taking his eyes off the glass.
Hans crossed his arms.
—I'm not surprised. He knows exactly how this works.
The commander remained silent, analyzing every movement of the man on the other side. Von Hohenwald slowly moved his fingers, as if counting time, completely indifferent—or pretending to be—to the gravity of his situation.
—He has too many connections —the commander finally said—. This won't be a normal interrogation.
Niklas clenched his jaw.
—He smiled at the cameras —he added—. He even spoke. That's not something a scared man does.
Hans nodded grimly.
—It's almost like he wanted this to happen.
On the other side of the glass, Von Hohenwald lifted his gaze and looked straight at the mirror. For a moment, it felt as if he were looking directly at them.
They waited nearly an hour before Von Hohenwald's lawyer finally arrived. The atmosphere in the adjacent room was tense; no one spoke. Niklas stood with his arms crossed while Hans checked his watch for the umpteenth time.
When the lawyer appeared in the hallway—wearing an impeccable dark suit and carrying a leather briefcase—Niklas and Hans stepped out to meet him. The man looked at them seriously and asked at once:
—Where is my client?
Hans replied in a dry, professional tone:
—In the next room.
Hans opened the interrogation room door, and the lawyer entered without another word. Niklas and Hans followed and closed the door behind them. Inside, Von Hohenwald sat at the table, his hands cuffed in front of him, seemingly calm—almost relaxed.
The lawyer took a seat beside his client, leaning in slightly to whisper something in his ear. Across from them, Niklas and Hans sat down, fixing their gaze on Hohenwald as they waited for the interrogation to begin.
Niklas was the first to break the silence. He rested his forearms on the table and spoke firmly.
—Let's begin, Mr. Von Hohenwald. This morning you were arrested as the primary suspect in directing a human trafficking network. We have evidence, testimonies, and financial records directly linking you to it.
Hohenwald slowly raised his eyes and formed a faint smile. He said nothing.
Hans spoke next.
—Several of your properties are being searched right now. Basements, sealed rooms, falsified records. Everything points to an organized, well-funded structure. —He paused.— This is not an administrative mistake or a misunderstanding.
The lawyer glanced at his client, waiting for a reaction, but Hohenwald remained calm, studying the detectives as if time were irrelevant.
Niklas frowned.
—And yet… —he said— you didn't try to flee. You didn't destroy evidence. You didn't hide.
Hohenwald tilted his head, intrigued.
—On the contrary —Hans continued— you seemed… prepared. As if you knew this was coming.
For the first time, Hohenwald spoke.
—Is that a question or an accusation?
Niklas held his gaze.
—It's an observation. Both the commander and we have the impression that you wanted to be discovered.
Silence filled the room again. The lawyer shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
—During your arrest —Hans added— you looked directly into a television camera and said, "I told you no one plays with me."
Niklas leaned forward slightly.
—Who was that message meant for, Mr. Von Hohenwald?
Hohenwald's smile widened just a fraction. His eyes drifted briefly toward the one-way mirror, as if he knew exactly who might be watching.
—That… —he murmured— is not something I should answer today.
Niklas exchanged a quick glance with Hans. Something was wrong. None of this felt like the interrogation of a defeated man.
Hohenwald leaned back in his chair, the handcuffs clinking softly.
—But if you're going to keep asking questions —he added calmly— I suggest you prepare yourselves.
The tension in the room became almost tangible. Niklas knew, in that instant, that what followed would not be a confession…
…but a confrontation.