On the Blade of Destiny. Noir / Drama / Adventure

He looked in the mirror. The same tall guy with dark circles under his eyes. The same gaze that girls called “mysterious”, and which he himself considered simply empty. Now something else appeared in that emptiness. A shadow.

The phone lay in the kitchen. One missed call from Marcos and three messages from an unknown number. Adrian ignored them. First, coffee with fried bread rubbed with tomato and tuna, drizzled with olive oil. The ritual of preparing the drink was a way for him to regain control. Grain, grind, water temperature. Then freshly squeezed orange juice. A cigarette. View of the sea. Here the rules were clear, unlike the world outside the window.

By evening, he arrived at “L’Ombra”. The club was still sleeping, only the duty lamps were burning. The guards at the entrance nodded to him with a new shade of respect. Yesterday he was just the “right-hand man”, today he had become an accomplice. In this world, blood bound tighter than any contracts.

In his office — a former storage room that Marcos ordered to be turned into an office — Adrian dealt with logistics. The cargo was on the ground, now it needed to be dissolved in Europe. Trucks with vegetables, containers with equipment, private yachts. Marcos wanted to send a batch to Rotterdam in two days. Adrian was sitting over maps and route diagrams when the door opened without a knock.

She stood in the doorway.

Adrian had seen her in the club before. She played the piano in the lounge area when the main party started. She was about thirty, maybe less. Dark hair gathered in a careless bun, a dress the color of the night sky. She never smiled at visitors and never accepted drinks.

— You shouldn’t be here, — Adrian said, not looking up from the papers. His voice was even, without irritation. This was his defense.

— I was told that you now settle matters, — she replied. Her voice was low, with a barely noticeable accent. Possibly Eastern European, or perhaps just a peculiarity of diction. — I want to settle one matter.

Adrian finally looked up. Her eyes were light, almost transparent, and there was no fear in them that he was used to seeing in the club staff.

— I’m not security. I handle organization.

— Organization of chaos, — she corrected, entering the room and closing the door. — My name is Leyla.

— Adrian

— I know. The one who cooks food and manages the stars.

Adrian froze. How could she know about the shore? About the stars? He slowly put down the pen.

— Who sent you?

— No one. I observe. Pianists see more than guards. Guards look at doors, and musicians listen to the silence between the notes. I heard how the rhythm in the city changed over the last twenty-four hours. As if the heartbeat accelerated.

She approached the table and touched the route map with her fingers.