eBay Shop

Showing posts with label spies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spies. Show all posts

Nov 23, 2024

Betrayal Protocol, Cold Divide Chapter 2 Patterns in the Ice by Sarnia de la Maré

Betrayal Protocol, Cold Divide

Chapter 2: Patterns in the Ice

The chalet’s command centre buzzed with subdued energy, the kind that came with early breakthroughs and mounting questions. Mila Novak headphones perched on her ears, barely looked up from her laptop as Alina entered. She secretly loved a new case and all the drama and this one was almost a guilty pleasure. In another world she may have been out digging up bodies and catching the bad guys the old fashioned way but her grasp of computer sciences was apparent when she was twelve as she beat her brothers hands down at games. It wasn't long before the call of coding beckoned and she was hooked to the flashing pixels. On screen now amidst the familiar cacophony of a live and fast moving case, strings of digits flickered, punctuated by partially decoded phrases.

“The cipher’s coming together,” Mila said, her voice clipped. “I’ve got a repeating phrase: Phoenix Initiative. Sounds like Cold War jargon, but there’s nothing concrete yet.”

“Cold War spy drama,” Fabian interjected from the kitchenette, cradling a cup of steaming coffee. “It’s so old-school it hurts. A cipher in the age of quantum encryption? Almost romantic.”

“Or staged,” Alina replied, pacing by the window. The towering Edelweiss Peak loomed beyond the glass, its frosty summit wreathed in morning mist. “If someone wanted us to think this was predictable, a cipher straight out of a Le Carré novel would do the trick.”

Fabian raised an eyebrow. “So you think this is a distraction?”

“I think it’s convenient,” Alina said, crossing her arms. “And I don’t trust convenient.”

Alina paced the floor, biting her lips.

"Let's take another look at the crime scene," she said shoving an empty coffee cup into Fabian's hand.

She was a petite woman, always in jeans, and today a polo neck covered her pale slender neck and a long purple scar from her ear to her collar bone. It came with the job and she was proud of it, a badge of honour she was given by a would be assassin who she saw arrested and handed back to Germany. But today it was bloody freezing and the heating had been off for months in the absence of an international case of interest between countries. 

The ice cave had taken on an eerie stillness since the investigators left. Alina and Fabian descended the narrow path, their breath fogging the frigid air. Snow crunched beneath their boots, the only sound in the pristine silence.

“Hard to believe this place is a murder scene. I mean, how'd anyone get a body out here anyway?”

“Focus,” Alina snapped, shining her flashlight along the icy walls. “Something about this doesn’t sit right. The body was displayed like a macabre art installation, but there’s no blood trail. Either this killer cleaned up perfectly, or...”

“...the kill didn’t happen here,” Fabian finished, crouching near the snowbank where Viktor Rodin’s torso had been propped. He frowned, pulling out a penlight to examine the ice more closely. “Look at this.”

Embedded in the frozen wall was a shard of glass. Fabian extracted it carefully, holding it up to the light. The surface glinted, revealing tiny etchings.

“Looks like part of a lens,” Fabian said. “High-end surveillance equipment, maybe? The kind used for recording or transmitting.”

“Which begs the question,” Alina said, her voice taut, “if someone was watching, why didn’t they stop this? Or did they know it was going to happen?”

Fabian put the shard with gloved fingers into an evidence bag. “I'll get Mila to take a look.”

'It may be nothing, there are a lot of accidents on the slopes. Especially those bloody snowbladers.'

Back at the  resort with its glittering chandeliers and polished marble floors, Alina could sense the tension, the unspoken awareness that something gruesome had shattered this alpine haven’s tranquility.

"We need to ask you some questions," Fabian looked at the receptionist with his stern-do-as-ask look flashing his credentials.

"This guy," Alina showed a snapshot of their vic, "he was staying here yesterday. and the day before. Were you around, did you see him?"

The girl was young and had a rather fake demeanour. Alina knew this type of receptionist, the ones that only cared about the rich people they serviced and the big tips. It was hard to get them onside.

"I was on last two days, I never saw him. I would have noticed him, he is quite distinctive."

"Room 331, said Alina....who checked him in?" 

The receptionist mustered a sigh as she pulled up details of the room.

"Oh this guy, no he isn't your guy, this is my guy." The receptionists swung the screen round with the artistry of a smug ice skater, and smiled.

Alina and Fabian worked through a list of staff and guests, focusing on those who had interacted with the imposter Mr Rodin. Most were evasive, their answers polished but hollow. Only one, a ski instructor named Lukas, provided anything useful.

“I saw him,” Lukas said, his brow furrowed. “Two nights ago, near the private lounge. He was with someone.”

“Did you catch what they were saying?” Alina asked.

“Not really,” Lukas admitted. “But Mr Rodin looked kinda mean. He had 'people'."

"People?" quizzed Alina, becoming increasingly impatient with this stupid rich people code.

"Body guards," explained Lukas.

On the way back to base with warm coffee in hand Alina and Fabian go over the details of the contradicting lines of evidence.

"So we have some dude," said Alina, "who is Mr Victor Rodin, but not our body in the snow, who may or may not be the Viktor Rodin, a former Soviet spy whose murder has alarmed MI5. We need to check out this other guest with Interpol. Maybe there are just a lot of Mr. Victor Rodin in the world." 

Fabian laughed, "Now that would be funny."

By mid-afternoon, the team gathered in the chalet’s briefing room, where Leena Anders, the forensic pathologist, appeared via video call. Her no-nonsense demeanour was sharpened by glaring surgical knives and the crisp apron she wore.

“I’ve just finished the preliminary autopsy,” Leena began, adjusting her glasses. “This case is... unusual, to say the least. You guys are gonna love this."

The team closed in on the screen. “How so?” Alina asked.

“For starters, the severing of the body was done haphazardly, an electric logging saw fits the marks left....or similar. It ain't easy to hack a man in half. But here’s where it gets really strange: the tissue degradation doesn’t match the time of death.”

“Meaning?” Fabian asked, leaning forward.

Leena hesitated, as though unsure how to phrase it. “The body shows signs of having been frozen for an extended period. Decades, perhaps.”

The room fell silent.

“You’re saying he wasn’t just left in the snow,” Alina said slowly. “He was stored on ice, then deposited at the scene?”

“Exactly,” Leena confirmed. “I’ve also found traces of cryoprotectants in his tissue—chemicals used in preservation. Whoever killed him didn’t just murder him. They kept him in cold storage then thawed him out.”

"Do we know it is our Victor Rodin?" Alina hated a confusing set of clues.

"I would bet my job on it," said Leena. "Teeth and bone records all match, this guy had a lot of injuries throughout his adult life. Age at time of death, late forties, early fifties, but I need to be flexible here as things get tricky in a deep freeze."


Back at her station, Mila frowned at the latest decode. “I’m not sure about this cipher,” she admitted. “The pattern is too clean, too deliberate. It’s like whoever wrote it wanted us to solve it.”

“Another breadcrumb,” Alina muttered, leaning over her shoulder. “What’s the latest?”

Mila gestured to the screen. “It’s more of the same: Phoenix Initiative, a series of numbers, coordinates pointing to old Cold War sites. It’s pointing us to a narrative, but it feels... scripted.”

“Because it is,” Alina said. “This isn’t just a murder. It’s theatre. Someone is very proud and they want us to notice them."

Fabian entered, tossing the evidence bag with the  glass shard onto the table. “Add this to the pile of oddities. High-end lens, found at the scene. Either someone was filming this or monitoring it.”

Alina stared at the shard, then back at the decoded cipher. Her instincts screamed that the answers lay elsewhere, buried under layers of misdirection.

“Mila, dig deeper into that footage. See if there is more, check social media and get a call out for any holidaymakers who have footage around the time,” she said. “And focus on Petrov’s movements. If he’s connected, we need to find out how.”

“And what about the cipher?” Fabian asked.

“Keep it on the back burner,” Alina said. “It might be relevant, but right now, it feels like smoke and mirrors.”

As night fell, Alina stood by the window, watching the snow swirl under the pale moonlight. It was romantic and serene, if there had not been one of the most gruesome murders she had come across.

Fabian approached, a rare seriousness in his expression.

“You think this is bigger than our spy, don’t you?” he asked.

Alina nodded. “Whoever did this is playing a game. And there is money or something even bigger at stake. Fabian offered her a wry smile." He knew Alina of old. She always went in head first and she had the best clear up rate of any of her peers. 

Alina was staring at the murder board. “This is just the beginning, we need to be on high alert. The last alpine case I worked on did not end well."


To be continued...

©2024 Sarnia de la Mare

Other episodes

Betrayal Protocol, Cold Divide by Sarnia de la Mare Ch 1  Shadows on the Snow






Books by Author Sarnia de la Maré FRSA


Quick look
Toddle Poddle: Issue 2 (Rat Gang Crew and Friends)
Kindle Edition
$6.00
Other formats: Paperback




Quick look
Strata 14: The Journey to the Edge (Fear of Death) (The Book of Immersion 16)
Kindle Edition
$6.32
Other formats: Paperback




Quick look
Elderescence: A Manifesto (Elderescence Academy Book 2)
Kindle Edition
$9.99
Other formats: Hardcover, Paperback




Quick look
Tea Cup Shorts: V1
Kindle Edition
$4.99
Other formats: Paperback




Quick look
Strata 13: The Fight (Hormones) (The Book of Immersion 17)
Kindle Edition
$0.99




Quick look
Handmade by Sarnia, Eco Winter Warmers: Elderescence Academy: Recycled Fashion
5.0 out of 5 stars15.0 out of 5 stars. 1 customer reviews
Kindle Edition
$6.50
Other formats: Paperback




Quick look
Strata 12: Shabra and the Basement People (Emotions) (The Book of Immersion 15)
Kindle Edition
$1.32




Quick look
Strata 10: Dinfant Trouble (Synthetic Love) (The Book of Immersion 14)
Kindle Edition
$0.99




Quick look
Strata 11: The Crossroads (Guessing) (The Book of Immersion 12)
Kindle Edition
$0.99




Quick look
Strata 9: Limerence (Loins and Lust) (The Book of Immersion 13)
Kindle Edition
$0.99




Quick look
Feminism, AI, Big Tech, and Societal Issues: Navigating the Nexus (The Humanitarian...
Kindle Edition
$3.99
Other formats: Paperback




Quick look
Strata 8: Shabra (Laws of Attraction) (The Book of Immersion)
Kindle Edition
$0.99



Books by Sarnia de la Mare

Quick look
Strata 7: Jarome and the Scritters (Trade and Barter) (The Book of Immersion)
Kindle Edition
$0.99




Quick look
Strata 6: Trouble at the Bank (Animal Instincts) (The Book of Immersion)
Kindle Edition
$0.99




Quick look
Strata 5: Renyke Goes to The Bank (Memories and Experiences) (The Book of...
Kindle Edition
$0.99

Nov 22, 2024

Betrayal Protocol, Cold Divide Ch 1 Shadows on the Snow by Sarnia de la Mare

Betrayal Protocol, Cold Divide by Sarnia de la Mare Ch 1  Shadows on the Snow

The sky over Edelweiss Peak was a perfect canvas of pale blue, the kind that only came with high altitudes and bitter cold. The kind that made you forget how sharp the air was until you felt it slice through your lungs. It was the sort of morning that whispered luxury, pristine snow, glittering chalet rooftops, and muffled laughter from the ski slopes. But not everyone was here to ski. The après-ski drew pimps and high class working girls, gangsters hiding under a facade of decency and philanthropy, and men and women looking to better themselves through hobnobbing with the glitterati.

Deep in the heart of the resort, hidden from the casual elegance of its guests, a worker trudged through the early snow with a shovel slung over his shoulder. Emil, a local groundskeeper, was grumbling about the icy path when he saw it.

At first, he thought it was a pile of discarded clothing. Bright red fabric peeked out from the snowbank at the edge of the ice cave entrance, garish against the pristine white. He frowned. It wasn’t unusual for wealthy guests to leave strange things behinds, scarves, gloves, sometimes even entire ski suits. '

"Too rich to care about their stuff," he mumbled. But as Emil stepped closer and bent down to pick it up, his stomach clenched.

It wasn’t clothing. It was flesh. A hand, white and red, was reaching out from the snow.


***


Detective Alina Kostova hated flying. The turbulence rattled her nerves more than the sharpest interrogation ever had, and she wasn’t sure if it was the altitude or her job that left her feeling lightheaded. Beside her, Fabian Rousseau lounged with the kind of ease that grated on her, sipping from a miniature bottle of wine he’d charmed from the flight attendant.

“Cheer up, Kostova,” he said with a grin. “We’re going to the Alps. Think of the scenery. The fresh air. The murder.”

“Your optimism is nauseating,” Alina replied, gripping the armrest as the plane jolted.

“You’re not thrilled about a posh resort and a body in half? I thought gore was your thing.”

Alina turned to him, her green eyes sharp enough to cut glass. “No. Solving the case is my thing. If you’ve already decided to be insufferable, at least focus on the briefing.”

Fabian raised an eyebrow but slid his tablet across the tray table. Alina scanned the files, her lips pressed into a tight line.

The victim, Viktor Rodin, had been wanted by MI5 since before Alina’s time on the force. His defection from the Soviet Union was the stuff of spy legends, marked by betrayals, missing agents, and classified files that were never recovered. The fact that his body had shown up at one of Europe’s most exclusive resorts wasn’t just suspicious, it was alarming.

By the time Alina and Fabian arrived, the area around the ice cave was sealed off with Swiss precision. Mila Novak was already there, hunched over a portable screen connected to the resort’s security system. Her headphones hung around her neck, and her gloved hands moved deftly over the keyboard.

“Find anything?” Alina asked as she approached.

Mila barely glanced up. “Security cameras are useless. The angle on the ice cave doesn’t cover the crime scene, and the rest of the footage has… gaps.”

“Gaps?” Fabian repeated, leaning in.

“Someone tampered with the feed,” Mila said. “Whoever did this knew exactly how to cover their tracks.”

Alina sighed and turned toward the ice cave. The body—or what remained of it—was still in place, surrounded by investigators in heavy coats. Erwan Dubois stood at the edge of the scene, his breath visible in the frosty air as he spoke to one of the Swiss officers. His towering frame made him impossible to miss, even in the chaos.

“You should see this for yourself,” Erwan said as they approached. His voice was rough, his Belgian accent heavy. “It’s… artistic, if you can stomach it.”

The victim’s torso was propped against the snowbank, the legs arranged neatly beside it. The severing was clean, almost surgical, and a bright red scarf had been tied around the neck as if mocking the brutality of the act.

“Artistic isn’t the word I’d use,” Alina muttered.

“You know what I mean,” Erwan replied, his expression grim. “This isn’t just a murder. It’s a statement.”

Fabian crouched beside the torso, careful not to disturb the scene. “A Soviet spy, left in pieces at a ski resort? The symbolism is practically screaming at us.”

“What’s it saying?” Erwan asked.

“That someone’s got a flair for the dramatic,” Fabian replied.

As the team regrouped in the chalet set up as their base of operations, Mila pulled up the victim’s file on the main screen.

“Viktor Rodin,” she began, her voice steady. “Former Soviet agent, defected in 1984. MI5 had him on their watchlist for years, but he dropped off the radar in the early 2000s. No known family, no significant contacts… until now.”

“Why here? Why now?” Alina asked, pacing the room. “He’s been invisible for two decades. What changed?”

Mila frowned. “I don’t have an answer yet, but I found this in his personal effects.” She held up a small notebook, its pages filled with seemingly random numbers and symbols.

“It’s a cipher,” Fabian said, leaning closer. “Old-school, but effective. Can you crack it?”

“Eventually,” Mila replied. “But it’s not just the numbers. There’s a pattern, one that doesn’t make sense yet. But it looks like classic cold war comms to me.”


Erwan leaned against the wall, arms crossed.  Oh, so we are going kinda retro, are we? But why would a stiff have an old notebook if he only just became a corpse?"

“According to the resort’s guest list,” Mila said, “Rodin was attending a private meeting. The details are vague, but several high-profile figures are here this week, including Ivan Petrov.”

“Petrov,” Fabian repeated, his tone darkening. “Russian oligarch, ties to organized crime. Of course he’s involved.”

Alina stopped pacing and turned to Mila. “Find out everything you can about that meeting. Who attended, what was discussed, and whether it’s connected to Rodin’s death.”

“And the body?” Erwan asked. “What’s the next step?”

“Leena will handle the autopsy when the body gets to Zurich,” Alina said. “In the meantime, we dig into Rodin’s past. Someone wanted to send a message, and we need to figure out who—and why.”

As the team dispersed to their tasks, Alina stayed behind, staring at the snowy mountains through the window. The air was sharp and cold, the kind that cut through layers and chilled you to the bone.

She had been here before, it was bad back then and it felt bad now.

This wasn’t just a murder. It was the beginning of something far darker and for a fleeting second her subconscious told her to get out and get out fast.

To be continued…

©2024 Sarnia de la Mare


Betrayal Protocol, Cold Divide Chapter 2 Patterns in the Ice by Sarnia de la Maré



Wolf by Vapor Punk Tale Teller Club Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products



Happy Hippo with Crane Fly Watercolour by Tale Teller Club Books Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products



Clever Mr Owl Kids’ Book Illustration for Tale Teller Club Publishing Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products



Mr Fox by Tale Teller Club Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products



Waterclolour Splash Dog by Pasha Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products



Moo Cow Happy Bull Watercolour Cute Bright Kids’ Toddle Poddle Illustration Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products



Pink Flamingo at Midnight with Twinkly Stars by Goddamn Media Throw Pillow
£13.84
£18.45 (25% off)
Shop all products