Michael's biological alarm worked with its usual precision. At 6:30 a.m., his eyes opened. The morning light tried to push in through the edges of the blackout curtain, but the room remained in controlled dimness. He got up without any lazy rituals, put on his shoes, and walked toward the kitchen.
The tea ritual was repeated with the same methodical calm as the night before. He turned on the stove, waited for the water to reach a boil, and prepared the infusion, letting the herbal aroma fill the silent space of the apartment. With the steaming cup in his hands, Michael walked to the living room, momentarily ignoring the chessboard and the origami on the table, and sat down on the leather sofa.
Before he could take the first sip, the silence was broken by the short, insistent buzz of the cell phone on the coffee table. The device vibrated, lighting up the screen with a familiar name: Lydianne.
Michael picked up the phone and swiped his finger across the screen, answering the call.
— Michael? — the voice on the other end came rushed, loaded with evident tension. — We have a problem. A big problem.
Michael brought the cup to his lips, keeping his tone completely level, unhurried.
— What's the problem? — Michael asked calmly.
— Maybe she noticed... — Lydianne stammered slightly, trying to control her breathing on the other side. — She knows.
— What woman? — Michael asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, demanding precision.
— The woman who manages the evidence and crime scene proof sector at the department — Lydianne explained, the words tumbling out. — I went out for a run early this morning, on my usual route. She appeared out of nowhere and blocked me. She was direct, Michael. She said she's going to tell Michell and the whole team about what I did. She knows I went into the evidence locker and confiscated that specific piece of evidence from the crime scene for you.
Michael remained silent, processing the information as he listened to the report.
— She threatened me — Lydianne continued, panic rising in her voice. — But I managed to contain the initial damage. I negotiated. I told her not to say anything, that I would do whatever she wanted to keep it secret...
— What's her name? — Michael interrupted. His voice held no anger, only the cold search for concrete data.
— Josiane. Her name is Josiane — Lydianne replied, breathing deeply. — And she knows exactly how much power she has in her hands now. Josiane wants money, Michael. She demanded two hundred thousand dollars to erase the records and keep her mouth shut, without taking this to Michell.
Lydianne paused briefly, waiting for a reaction that didn't come.
— I was scared, the pressure was too much at the time... So I said I'd give her the money. I confirmed the amount just so she wouldn't open her mouth right then. But Josiane isn't going to wait. She turned around, walked away, and gave me a definitive deadline: I only have until tonight to deliver the full amount. If the money isn't in her hands, she turns in the report to HQ and I go straight to prison.
Michael listened to the outburst without changing his posture. He looked at the steam rising from his cup, calculating the ramifications of this new variable on the board. Josiane was probably bluffing about the deadline, but the risk to the operation and to Lydianne was real.
— I'll take care of it — Michael said, with a firmness that left no room for contest.
— What are you going to do? — she asked, searching for some kind of reassurance in his tone.
— I'll take care of it — he repeated, keeping the necessary mystery. — Keep your routine normal. Talk to you later.
Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call.
Michael set the phone down beside him on the sofa cushion. He crossed his legs in a relaxed way, but with his body perfectly aligned. Holding the ceramic cup with both hands, he took a long sip of the warm tea, while his mind was already starting to design the strategy to neutralize Josiane before the sun went down.