December 18th
Chapter 18 — Don’t Blink
Kateryna hissed at Michael when he entered the room.
“Where the hell have you been? You said you’d be in touch. We were left in the dark.”
Michael looked gaunt, like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. His shoulders twitched at every sound, eyes darting like prey that knows the hunter’s close.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I couldn’t risk it. Things escalated.”
Kateryna folded her arms. “What things?”
Michael leaned close, voice a whisper. “The USB you gave me… it had more than just reception footage. There were financial files. Records. Invoices. Transfers. I’ve been digging ever since.”
She frowned. “What kind of records?”
He glanced around the room, even checking under the bed, before speaking again. “Payments from the club. Routed through a shell company to a Glasgow accountant. But it’s not just tax fraud. This guy—Andrew Findlay—he’s laundering money. A lot of it. Payments in and out from multiple brothels. Women listed by number. Rotations. Inventory.”
Kateryna’s stomach turned.
Michael kept going. “The MSP, Alistair Grant, is up to his ears in it. I tipped off my contact in Serious Organised Crime. Findlay’s in custody now and he’s talking. Claims he’s been keeping books for the whole trafficking network.”
“Do they believe him?”
“They believe enough,” Michael said. “And there’s more. One of the rooms here has a hidden camera in the ceiling.”
She stiffened. “Which room?”
“The one with the four-poster. They film clients. The high-profile ones. Politicians, judges, cops. Then they use the footage to keep them quiet. Or make them pay.”
Kateryna’s mouth went dry. “I’ve only been in Room One a few times. It’s for favourites. Special guests.”
“Exactly,” Michael said grimly. “This is bigger than I thought. It’s not just a vice ring. It’s blackmail. Corruption. Entrapment. And organised as hell.”
Kateryna sank onto the bed. Michael joined her and they lay down together for a while.
Finally, she said, “So what now?”
“They need more time,” he said. “My contact says they’re building the full case—wire taps, warrants, the works. Once it’s ready, they’ll hit every location at once. We’ll bury these bastards.”
Her eyes were wide. “You need to get us out. If they suspect me—”
“Then they’ll disappear you,” he said flatly. “I know.”
Kateryna’s voice cracked. “Then why wait?”
“Because if we move too soon, someone walks. You want Grant to vanish to his country house and hole up with legal immunity? You want your handler to go underground?”
“No.”
“Then we hang tight,” he said. “Just a little longer.”
A long silence fell between them. The air felt heavy.
Finally, Kateryna stood. “They’re watching everything. Every look, every whisper. If I blink wrong, I’m dead.”
Michael’s eyes met hers. “Then don’t blink.”
She turned to leave, then stopped at the door.
“If I go down,” she said quietly, “make sure the world hears me scream.”
***
