Training Room
Eva lay strapped to the punishment table; leather belts pressed against her wrists and ankles. Her breath came in sobs.
— Sometimes I'm surprised by the stubbornness of some of you — said the Master, his voice as dry as the room itself. Behind him stood Anna, Lucille, and two maids holding boxes of instruments.
— I… I didn't do anything — murmured Eva; tears streaked her cheeks.
The Master wrinkled his nose.
— The evidence says otherwise. You handled the documents; only you could have altered them. The only question is why.
Eva strained against the bindings to no avail.
— Miss Lucille, I swear, I didn't do anything! — she cried.
At a signal from the Master, Anna struck her with a baton, reddening Eva's face; Lucille turned her eyes away, uneasy.
— Second chance — he continued. — If not why, then for whom?
— Don't do this, Eva — he tried to reason —. Cooperate and it will end faster.
The tears only flowed harder.
— Then this will be the end — he declared. The maids opened a metal box filled with tools.
— Anna — he ordered —, tell Kensington her friend has ceased to be useful.
Anna reached for the door… and in the doorway appeared Veronika's silhouette.
— Kensington… — Anna whispered, unsettled.
Veronika entered with steady steps; her eyes took in the scene —the straps, the blood on Eva's cheek— without blinking.
— Don't do anything foolish — Anna warned.
Veronika gave no answer. She approached the Master.
— I did it in the time you gave me. Release Eva.
The Master arched an eyebrow.
— Really? Where is your proof?
She stepped forward and spread out some papers.
— Does VostokNeft sound familiar?
The Master frowned.
— An old client. Irrelevant.
Lucille tensed at the sound of the name.
— Not so inactive — Veronika went on. — They've been sending letters of intent for months, curiously generous ones.
— I don't understand you, Kensington — the Master growled.
Anna urged her from behind:
— You'd better get to the point, the Master isn't in the mood.
Veronika extended the sheets.
— I didn't have this month's final list, but I do have those of previous months. VostokNeft doesn't appear on any of them, yet here I hold their signed letters. Compare them.
The Master examined the old documents and the recent missives. Silence grew heavy.
Eva held her breath; Veronika gave her a reassuring look before turning back.
— What does this mean? — the Master finally asked, his brow even darker.
— It means someone manipulated your auctions. ST Trading paid to erase its greatest competitor.
The Master allowed himself a cold smile.
— Bravo, Kensington. You've proven Eva's complicity with ST Trading. — He clapped slowly.
The maids raised their tools.
Terrified, Eva struggled again.
Veronika stepped between them.
— She is not the culprit.
— The papers you brought condemn her — the Master countered.
Veronika pulled a roll from her sleeve.
— I wanted some theatricality. Among the external documents I found Eva's résumé: she joined three months ago. But the absence of VostokNeft in the lists dates back half a year… when Eva wasn't even here.
Veronika's gaze fixed on someone else: Lucille.
— Your secretary. That's what happens when you delegate all your correspondence and never speak to your clients yourself. — Veronika smiled mockingly.
The Master turned his eyes to the right, where Lucille stood, hastily denying.
— Sir, I never… never would do such a thing.
Veronika stood before Eva to help loosen the straps binding her arms.
— Sorry I was late — she said, untying the knots.
She lifted her eyes to Eva, whose cheek was reddened from the blow, tear marks covering her face.
The Master, with a look of disappointment, questioned Lucille.
— Your time to answer is running out.
— I… I… no, I didn't, I swear, I never…
— Leaving hints of a future trip to Tarnavia was not discreet. Not the best hiding place for a funded escape — Veronika replied.
The Master pressed the bell. Vera, the guard who had accompanied Veronika, appeared.
— Tie her up. Anna, handle it. This does not leave this room. The rest of you, out.
Veronika helped Eva to her feet and guided her to the exit. Behind them, a barely audible murmur slipped from the room:
— Uncle… please, don't do this to me.