When Alper Karlac arrived at the Special Criminal Cases Bureau, he was clad in a tailored suit and refined arrogance. His lawyers flanked him like shadows. He entered Shade's office and settled into the chair as if it were his own.
"Detective Shade," he said, his voice dripping with artificial politeness. "I am here due to this unusual interest in my company. I trust you have a good explanation."
Shade looked up from cleaning his pipe behind his desk. "The Cayman Islands. 'Crimson Wave Investments'. Two hundred thousand a month. For ten years."
Karlac's smile froze; he lost control for a brief moment, then recovered. "We are a global holding, Detective. We have hundreds of investments. I wonder how you found such an old and insignificant detail."
"Insignificant?" Shade's voice was icy and sharp. "Then why was it secret? Why is it not in the company records, only in your personal account?"
One of the lawyers interjected: "My client's personal financial strategies cannot be the subject of this inquiry."
Shade's gaze remained locked on Karlac. "Elena Varga. Mark Varga. Detective Logan. Are these names part of your personal financial strategy?"
Karlac smiled slightly, cold and calculated. "Tragic events. But they have no connection to me. Merely a coincidence."
"Coincidence," Shade repeated, rolling the word around his mouth like a bitter taste. "Just like the coincidence of the company you invested in using the same offshore bank as the Crimson Charter?"
The confidence in his eyes cracked for the first time. A flash of panic appeared, but Karlac quickly regained control. "Proof?" he asked, his voice a notch sharper.
"We are looking for proof," said Shade. "And we will find it. This is no longer just a murder investigation. It is about eradicating a cancer that circulates in this city's veins."
The two men were at opposite ends of the room, like two sides of a chessboard. One played with money and power, the other with will and intellect.
"You are dealing with the wrong man, Detective," Karlac said, rising to his feet. "I am just a businessman. You are chasing ghosts."
Shade stood up. "Ghosts are becoming real, Mr. Karlac. And you are the man who funds them. The stench of your money is everywhere. And I will follow that stench. Until I find its source."
Karlac looked at him one last time. His eyes no longer held arrogance, but a deep concern. "You are making a mistake, Shade. A very big mistake."
"Then," Shade said, his voice icy and resolute, "I will continue to make mistakes."
---
When the door closed, Shade took out his pipe, filled it, and lit it. The smoke swirled in the room like a declaration of war. The game continued, but the rules were now far more dangerous.
---
While Shade was in the office, trying to trace Dr. Kael's financial footprints, his tablet screen went dark for a moment. The intertwined double "C" symbol appeared on it. The screen split in two.
On the left was Dr. Kael; blindfolded, mouth taped, tightly bound to a chair. A clock in front of the camera was counting down: 01:59:48… 01:59:47…
On the right was a live stream from Logan's hospital room. Logan still lay motionless, his brain activity lines more active than normal. An injection pump was connected to his arm, not yet active.
A message appeared at the bottom of the tablet; the masked man's electronically distorted voice was heard:
"Every architect must know what to sacrifice. One of your two masterpieces… but which one? The door to knowledge, or the foundation of loyalty? The choice is yours, Detective. The clock is ticking."
Shade's breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest. He immediately called Sierra. "Track the signal from my tablet! Now!"
"Shade, what—"
"DO IT!" he roared, his voice filled with raw panic for the first time.
Within seconds, Sierra responded: "The signal… it's gone. Or it's so well hidden I can't find it. What is this?"
Shade showed her the tablet. Sierra's face turned pale. "My God… this… this isn't a choice. It's torture."
01:58:12… 01:58:11…
Shade's mind raced frantically. There wasn't enough time to find Dr. Kael. Alerting the police guarding Logan's room… But they could activate the pump remotely.
"Call Harvenn," Shade ordered, his voice tense but controlled. "Tell her to have all electronic devices in Logan's room disabled. NOW!"
He looked back at the tablet. He focused on Dr. Kael's image. A faint but familiar sound was audible in the background; the hum of a subway line. A faded writing on the wall: "Welcome to Dark Valley."
"My first major case from ten years ago…" Shade murmured.
01:55:03… 01:55:02…
Shade sprang to his feet. "Sierra, stay here! Monitor Logan's status!" He ran out of the office.
With the tablet in his hand, its two screens flickering, the only witness who could talk was being left to die. On the other side, the mind of his most loyal agent was about to be destroyed.
---
When he reached the Dark Valley metro station, the air was heavy with the smell of rust, damp, and decay. The countdown on the tablet showed 00:04:31.
"Kael!" he shouted. His voice echoed through the empty tunnels; the only response was the sound of dripping water.
His flashlight beam caught on a shadow at the end of the platform. The silhouette bound to a chair.
"KAEL!"
He ran, drew his knife, and bent down to cut the straps. Dr. Kael was still alive.
The countdown reached 00:00:03… 00:00:02… 00:00:01… 00:00:00.
The left screen went dark. The real Dr. Kael's head slumped forward meaninglessly. Shade pressed two fingers against his neck. No pulse. A silent, painless, instant death. It must have been a remotely triggered capsule.
Shade knelt. He placed his hand on Kael's shoulder. It was cold. He had raced against the clock with seconds to spare, and failed.
The right screen on the tablet flickered; the injection pump next to Logan had not activated. The masked man's voice rose from the tablet:
"You made a choice. You chose the door to knowledge. You preserved the foundation of loyalty. Congratulations, Detective. You passed the first lesson: An architect must know how to allocate his resources. The next lesson is coming soon."
---
Shade was left alone in the metro station. He slowly stood up. There was no anger on his face, only an absolute and frightening void.
He gave instructions to the teams arriving at the scene. His voice held no inflection; a mechanical, lifeless monotone. As Dr. Kael's body was placed on a stretcher, Shade walked away. He didn't look back.
He walked from the dim lights of the abandoned metro station towards the exit opening into the night. His feet were heavy, his steps mechanical. The cold night air hit his face, but he felt nothing. The void rising within him was as cold as Dr. Kael's last breath.
When he reached his car, he slumped into the driver's seat, not starting the engine. He gripped the steering wheel, resting his forehead against the cold leather. He closed his eyes. Something inside him was breaking: the solid wall built over years, the foundation of justice and logic, was crumbling with an audible crack.
Dr. Kael's eyes… they hadn't been blindfolded. In his final moments, he had seen Shade coming, had found hope. And then death had taken him.
The emotion rising within him wasn't anger. It was a deeper, more dangerous void: a nothingness where rules and boundaries ceased to exist. He understood the masked man's game now.
He raised his head and looked at his own reflection in the rearview mirror. The helpless look in Dr. Kael's eyes now belonged to him.
He started the car. The hum of the engine couldn't break the silence within him. As he drove towards the city, a single thought crystallized in his mind: the game had changed. He would no longer act as a detective, but as a ghost seeking to understand his enemy in order to destroy him. Because only by understanding a monster could you destroy it. Or by learning to become like it.
The night had swallowed him. Shade drove into the darkness, not with a smoldering anger, but with an icy resolve.