Velika: The story of a lover

Two years ago.

He was sitting in the corner, watching his client flirting with that woman in dismay. The way how she smiled, how she delicately made physical contact indicated she was that special someone who was going to interfere with his business.

It wasn't the first time he found himself this kind of situation. He slowly stood up, with a goblet in hand, he approached his client. The server who was polishing forks and the woman in a red backless dress, it was easy for him to locate that woman's accomplices.

'Bad actors,' He thought, 'No normal guests at the party would stare at two people by the bar counter so furiously. Amateurs.'

Daniel Heinrich was already picturing himself lying on the comfortable couch, drinking the finest red wine, and reading a book under the cozy lamplight. A fabulous night.

They thought he was killed in that car crash this afternoon. Yes, a nicely planned accident, Daniel Heinrich rose his eyebrow, but did they assume he couldn't figure out their ridiculous, childish scheme? May the soul of that poor entry-level agent rest in peace, he wouldn't be killed if he was smart enough to roll out from the side of the car. Brainless young people, he sighed in his mind, though he wasn't old enough to call others young.

Placing his goblet on a passing waiter's tray, he asked the waiter to tell his client to answer a call. The waiter was confused, but since he tipped the waiter generously, the young man swallowed his curiosity back and did what he was asked for.

Money, it was all about money. A scornful smile climbed on his elegant face, mostly mocking himself though money was only half of the reason he chose this career. He took the stairs to the second floor and passed by a wealthy man who was tantalizing a young woman on the staircase.

Leaning against the pillar, where he could hide as well as seeing his client and that woman, he made the call.

"Hello?"

"This is Mr. Gordon." He said flatly, Mr. Gordon was the emergency codename they agreed on for unexpected circumstances. "Old fool, the enchanting lady isn't your buyer, I am. She's going to kill you."

"I beg your pardon?" He saw his client anxiously walking away from the woman, with her sight focusing on him.

"I want your men to lock this place down," He said in a demanding tone, "Arrest the server with the silver forks and the woman in a red backless dress, they are with her. Go back to your lady, find a way to catch her. Also, set up a signal disturber, would you?"

"Fine." His client answered nervously, "Why would I trust you?"

"Because I'm the one who pays you." Said him bitterly before hanging up.

Fortunately, his client did what he asked. Within minutes, the two accomplices were caught, and that woman was brought upstairs. He followed them, when he was passing by a window, he saw a black van leaving. The backup wouldn't be here anytime soon since they were in a foreign country.

After introducing himself to his client, and finished the transaction, he inquired to have a conversation with the woman.

She was tied up in a chair, her hair was messy now, but there was still arrogance in her dark eyes. When she saw him, she looked straight into his eyes fearlessly, which surprised him, but he didn't show it.

"I would like to know your name and who you work for." He said indifferently.

"Not until you tell me first." She grinned.

"Miss, I'm not the one who's tied up here." He stepped up a little, trying to see her face clearly and wondering how she dared to say such things when she had come to her end.

"Correct." She curled her lips, "So?"

Interesting. He would love to interrogate this woman and found out who she truly was, but the clock was ticking, he had to catch the earliest flight and go back. So, he told his client to give him a call when they got the information about her.

"It would be my honor to take you out for dinner if you are not dying." He bent over and whispered in her ears, he heard her laughed mockingly.

Later that night when he was sitting on his couch reading, he couldn't help but think of her. That woman was like a charm. He was almost desperate to know who she was and what made her so calm when she knew she wouldn't survive the night?

His phone rang when he was lost in his thoughts. it was his client's number.

"Yes?"

"When should we go out for dinner?" He straightened up abruptly when he heard her voice, she sounded exhausted.

"I'm very impressed." Although he was shocked, his voice was as calm as usual.

"You shouldn't be." She taunted, "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Sure enough." He answered in the same tone as hers, "We can't underestimate each other, can we? Now, may I know your name?"

"Tell me yours first." She paused for a second and asked.

"Daniel Heinrich." Said him politely.

"Velika O'Sullivan." She was a little out of breath, he presumed she was running.

"Why did you call me, O'Sullivan?" His tone turned serious.

"I'm glad you finally asked, dear," She sounded resentful, "I'm going to find you and make you the one who's running for his life."

###

When Daniel Heinrich was walking down the streets under the night sky covered by stars, his thought went back to his early years. He remembered the little farm where he grew up, where he and his sister Genevieve used to play hide and seek near the barn. The sky was ink blue, and the sunset painted the far edge bright orange. He remembered his mother would call them in for dinner, usually, she had to do that three times, the children wouldn't get in until she sounded mad. His father would tell them stories about his childhood, and all the interesting things about the farm, or hunting. He cursed sometimes, which made the children laugh, and the mother angry. Once she glanced at the father, the family became quiet and everyone was busy finishing the food on their plates.

Indeed, he missed those days, but they were long gone. His family immigrated under the witness protection program after his father witnessed an international crime that he couldn't recall exactly what it was. Innocently enough, he believed moving to a new country would bring his family luck. Hopes and dreams were like fireworks, ignited then faded away, so did his illusion about a brand-new life fulfilled with excitement and happiness.

That winter was colder than all the winters he had experienced, snow continuously falling from the grey, lifeless sky landed on the brown, bare soil, built up a thick, white snow carpet. He was 17, young, handsome, and tactless. Like all his peers, he went on dates and parties, broke hearts, and fooled around. He was looking forward to moving to Los Angeles for college and had simple ambitions about what he would become.

Even now when he closed his eyes, he could still recall that day clearly, recall all the details he tried so hard to forget. It was a ghost haunted him all these years and could never leave him alone in peace. When he came home after school that fateful winter day, he opened the door and saw fire. The warm, vivid, furious fire in their fireplace. His parents were tied near the couch, he heard his sister's screams coming from upstairs and the sound of her nails scratching the wooden floor when she was dragged brutally by a man with a husky voice and heavy footsteps.

He froze and didn't know how to react. It was his father whispered to him in German, told him to hide, he hid in the closet in the living room, where he could hear the man talking through the white-colored closet door.

"Where is your son?" The man asked rudely.

"Not here." His father answered calmly, while his mother and sister were sobbing.

"Any last words?" The man sounded he was in a hurry, he paced impatiently.

"Do you believe in karma?" His father said coldly, "It will come back to you."

Then he heard the man scorned, within a second he saw flame through the gap of the door, the flame destroyed all his hopes and made him someone he never thought he would be. At the age of 17, he saw his family burnt alive right in front of his eyes. When he climbed out of the closet, he couldn't even stand. After days, he had no more tears to shed, it was that time he decided to move on. He dropped out of school, went down a road of revenge that couldn't turn back. Years later when he stood in front of that man, put a bullet in his head without a blink, he thought of that winter, the flame, and the word his father said.

Karma.