The night was unnaturally quiet. Outside the window, the lights of London blurred behind the fog. Murphy Lawden stared at the papers scattered across the table, but his eyes were not truly fixed on the words—they were fixed on a small envelope.
The envelope had been slipped under the door only a few minutes earlier.
No sender's name. No address.
Murphy slowly opened it and pulled out the paper inside.
Only one line was written:
Come alone. If you bring anyone, three people die tonight.
Below it was an address.
Dr. Alexander was sitting at the table nearby.
"What does it say?" he asked.
Murphy folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
"Someone wants a meeting."
Alexander frowned. "Who?"
"The one watching us."
"I'm coming with you."
Murphy shook his head.
"No."
"What do you mean no? In this situation, you're going alone?"
Murphy answered calmly, "Even if it's a trap, I can take that risk. But if what the letter says is true, three innocent people die."
Alexander tried to say something, then stopped.
Murphy put on his coat.
He paused at the door.
"If I'm late coming back, keep the door locked."
"You always talk as if you already know everything," Alexander said quietly.
Murphy opened the door.
"You can never know everything. You only learn the price of mistakes before they happen."
The door closed.
The apartment fell silent again.
Alexander stood still for a few moments, then slowly walked toward the table. He looked through the papers Murphy had left behind.
A map of London, several marked points, the locations of four dead bodies, and in the center—an unusual symbol.
Then he heard a faint sound.
Tick... tick...
At first he thought it was a clock.
But the sound was coming from his own room.
He moved toward the door.
Again—
Tick... tick...
Alexander opened it.
A faint red light glowed beneath the bed.
His eyes widened.
"No—"
The next moment, an explosion.
A violent blast shook the entire apartment.
Glass shattered in every direction.
Smoke and fire filled the corridor.
The landlady downstairs screamed and ran up immediately.
She pushed through the smoke, coughing heavily.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
Through the smoke, Alexander lay on the floor—injured, unconscious, but still breathing.
The landlady somehow dragged him outside.
Neighbors rushed in.
Someone called an ambulance.
Within minutes, sirens echoed outside.
As Alexander was taken to the hospital, one of his hands moved slightly, though his eyes never opened.
The landlady still had Murphy's phone number in her hand.
With trembling fingers, she called him.
At that moment Murphy had just arrived in front of an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city.
No one around.
Only the sound of wind.
Then his phone rang.
Murphy looked at the screen.
Apartment Owner.
He answered immediately.
"Hello."
A frightened voice came from the other side—
"Mr. Murphy! Come quickly! There's been an explosion in your apartment! Dr. Alexander—he's injured! We're taking him to the hospital!"
Murphy's expression did not change, but his eyes turned cold.
"Which hospital?"
The moment he heard the name, he ended the call.
Then a voice came from behind him.
"You came. Alone."
Murphy slowly turned.
A figure in a black coat stood in the darkness.
The face was hidden.
Murphy spoke steadily—
"You sent the letter."
The figure smiled slightly.
"I knew you would obey it."
"Why put a bomb in Alexander's room?"
"Because you are not alone."
Murphy stepped forward.
"You made a mistake."
"Why?"
Murphy's eyes remained fixed.
"Because now I know where you didn't want me… or rather, where you wanted me away from."
A second of silence.
Then Murphy rushed forward.
The figure instantly moved back and disappeared into darkness.
But Murphy did not stop.
Because he understood—
This attack was only the beginning.
And Alexander, lying in the hospital, was still not safe.
---
After leaving the hospital, the night felt even heavier. The smell of smoke still lingered in the cold air. Murphy Lawden slowly stood in front of his apartment again. Part of the wall was blackened from the explosion, the windows shattered, and the corridor still smelled of burnt wood.
The police had already left.
Only silence remained.
At the foot of the stairs sat a beggar boy, no older than ten or eleven. Torn clothes, thin body, strangely steady eyes.
Murphy watched him for a few seconds.
Then stepped closer.
"How long have you been sitting here?"
The boy looked up but said nothing.
Murphy asked again, "Did you see anything tonight?"
Still no answer.
The boy simply stared.
Murphy crouched down to eye level.
"If you saw something, tell me."
Silence again.
After a few seconds Murphy said directly—
"If you tell me the truth, I'll buy you food."
For the first time, something changed in the boy's eyes.
Murphy stood.
He took him to a small food shop across the street.
Soon hot food arrived.
The boy hesitated at first, then quickly began eating.
Murphy waited quietly until he slowed down.
Then asked—
"Now tell me."
The boy stopped.
In a low voice he said,
"A man came."
Murphy's gaze remained fixed.
"What kind of man?"
"Black long coat. I didn't see his face clearly."
"When?"
"Shortly after you left."
Murphy leaned slightly closer.
"What did he do?"
The boy whispered,
"He went into your room. Left something there and came out."
A cold glint flashed in Murphy's eyes.
"Did you see where he placed it?"
"No… but when he came out, he wasn't carrying anything."
Murphy said nothing more.
When the meal ended, he lightly placed a hand on the boy's head.
"Thank you."
The boy silently disappeared into the fog.
Murphy returned upstairs.
He entered slowly and examined everything.
Burnt walls. Ash. Broken wood.
Everything ruined.
But his eyes searched for something specific.
Near the table, on the floor, lay a small metal fragment.
He picked it up.
An unusual symbol engraved on it.
The same symbol from the murder map.
At that moment the landlady appeared behind him.
Her face looked exhausted.
"Mr. Murphy… you came back."
Murphy turned slowly.
"How is Dr. Alexander?"
"The doctors say he's out of danger… but still needs rest."
Murphy nodded.
After a moment he said,
"I'm leaving this apartment."
The landlady looked surprised.
"So suddenly?"
"It isn't safe anymore."
"But—"
Murphy replied calmly,
"Anyone who can plant a bomb here will come again."
She slowly nodded.
Concern filled her eyes.
"You're a good man, Mr. Murphy… I hope wherever you go, you find peace."
Murphy gave no answer.
Because he knew—peace was no longer for him.
The next evening he moved into a small new apartment in another part of London.
Old building. Narrow stairs. Small windows.
But more people nearby.
That was necessary.
Late at night he sat examining the metal fragment.
Then another envelope slid under the door.
Murphy stood immediately.
Opened the door.
No one there.
Empty corridor.
He picked up the envelope.
White paper.
Only one name written on it—
William Jim Mattis
Murphy stared at it for several seconds.
Then opened it.
Inside—
If you want answers, find him before midnight.
His eyes became still.
Because he had seen that name before.
In an old report.
A man declared dead five years ago.
A death never truly proven.
Outside, wind moved past the window.
Murphy understood—
The game was going deeper now.
---
Then the hospital called again.
"Mr. Lawden? Can you come immediately? Dr. Alexander's bed… he's gone!"
Murphy's eyes instantly turned cold.
"What do you mean?"
"His body—no, the patient himself—is missing from the hospital room. And… someone left a letter for you."
Murphy wasted no time.
He put on his coat and left.
At the hospital, Alexander's bed was empty.
Monitor wires torn loose.
A white envelope near the window.
His name written on it.
Inside—
Murphy, if you want Dr. Alexander alive, come immediately to London National Swimming Pool. 11 PM. Alone. If anyone follows you, Alexander dies.
Murphy folded the paper slowly.
A doctor asked, "What does it say?"
Murphy gave no answer.
Instead he examined the room.
Wheel marks beneath the bed.
Someone had moved Alexander.
And on the floor—
A drop of water.
Still fresh.
His eyes narrowed.
"How long ago?"
"Exactly twenty minutes," a nurse answered.
10:17 PM.
Very little time.
He left immediately.
But at the hospital entrance, he stopped.
Something was wrong.
A deliberate mistake.
Whoever took Alexander knew Murphy would come alone.
Which meant something bigger waited there.
---
Near the old unused section of London Aquatics Centre, Murphy arrived.
The gate half open.
Silence inside.
10:58 PM.
He entered slowly.
Only dim lights above the giant pool.
Reflections danced strangely across the water.
No one visible.
"I'm here," Murphy said calmly.
His voice echoed.
Then a voice from the balcony—
"You're on time."
Murphy looked up.
Black long coat.
Face hidden.
And tied near the edge—
Dr. Alexander.
Bruised, awake, barely conscious.
"Murphy!" Alexander said painfully.
The figure spoke—
"One more step and he falls."
Murphy stopped.
"Why bring me here?"
The figure moved forward slowly.
"Because you are starting to understand the pattern."
"And you want me to stop?"
"No. I want you to choose the wrong direction."
Murphy's eyes shifted briefly toward the water.
In the reflection—
Something else.
Another shadow behind the man.
A shadow moving… though nobody moved.
Murphy said quietly—
"You're not alone."
For the first time, the figure paused.
"Interesting."
Now Murphy was certain.
Because the shadow in the reflection did not belong to the man on the balcony.
Then the lights flickered off—
One second of darkness.
When light returned—
The black-coated figure was gone.
Alexander remained tied.
But at the far end of the balcony stood someone else.
Thin.
Unnaturally still.
A hollow smile.
Anafabula
She looked down and whispered—
"Late again, Murphy."
The pool water suddenly began trembling unnaturally.
Murphy understood immediately—
This was not a rescue mission.
It was a test.
Someone wanted panic.
But Murphy only looked at the balcony structure.
Because he had already understood where the trap had been placed.