"Not every star shines bright."
Andrich sat silently in his cell, eyes fixed on the narrow window. A grim expression shadowed his face. He reached for an apple resting beside him, but just as he was about to take a bite, the creak of the cell door jolted him.
"Eat it," came a voice. Sir Lorenzo stepped inside, lowering his head slightly as he entered.
Andrich set the apple down. "Maybe later. What now—more interrogation?"
"Why?" Lorenzo smiled faintly. "Do you have something else to confess?"
"I've told you everything," Andrich muttered. "You know I don't have anything more on VPS or anyone tied to him."
"It's not about what you know," Lorenzo said, stepping closer. "It's about keeping you alive. VPS would've had you killed by now if you weren't locked up in here. Think of this place as your reward for cooperating."
"Yeah," Andrich scoffed. "Living the dream."
"Don't be so sour. You're better off than most."
Andrich narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"
Lorenzo reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of photographs, placing them on the table. "I don't expect you to recognize all of them. But some of these people are waiting for your release—hoping you'll lead them to Nafisa. Take a look. See if anyone looks familiar."
Andrich sighed, scanning the faces carefully. After a moment, he pushed them back. "No. None of them ring a bell."
Lorenzo gathered the photos and slid them back into his coat. Then he stood. "Come with me."
Andrich's gaze sharpened. "Where are we going?"
"You're still a prisoner," Lorenzo replied flatly, snapping cuffs onto his wrists.
They stepped out of the cell and began descending three levels below, the echo of their footsteps swallowed by the cold stone walls.
The room was dimly lit, and Andrich struggled to make out the faces around him. He was seated in a hard chair, the weight of the situation settling heavily in his chest. Sir Lorenzo leaned close, his voice barely a whisper. "Just don't lie." He gave Andrich's shoulder a brief, reassuring pat before walking out, the door clicking shut behind him.
The light in the room flickered for a moment, then grew brighter, revealing a man seated across from Andrich. A file lay open in front of him, his eyes sharp as they studied Andrich with a mixture of curiosity and calculation. He rested his chin on his steepled fingers, his gaze never wavering.
"What is your name? Your full name," the man asked, his voice low and firm.
"Andrich Hoffmann."
"Where were you born?"
"Calgary, Canada. Moved to Germany after my parents died in a car collision. Lived with my maternal grandfather, Albert Hoffmann. After his death, I was pretty much on my own."
"No relatives?"
"Very few. I don't know much about them."
"How did you meet Nafisa?"
"We were in the same elementary school. She transferred from Pakistan. Wealthy background, but her family... complicated. Ties with both sides of the family were strained."
"How did you come to know VPS?"
"Nafisa introduced us. No prior contact, just hearsay and newspaper articles."
"When did you get married?"
Andrich's eyes narrowed. "I don't consider answering that question."
The man didn't flinch. "Right wing or left wing?"
"Left wing."
"Last question. If you were released today, where would you go?"
"Home."
The man's gaze sharpened. "Where's home?"
Andrich's face remained impassive. "I don't consider answering that question."
A slight smirk played at the corner of the man's lips. "Fine. You're free to go."
Andrich stood, but before he could move, he spoke again. "May I ask a question?"
The man looked up, curious. "Go ahead."
"Who are you?"
The man's expression didn't change. His lips curled into a subtle smirk. "I don't consider answering that question."
Andrich's mouth twitched, betraying the faintest smile. The door swung open, and Sir Lorenzo stepped inside, taking Andrich by the arm. He led him out, handing him over to the guard, who escorted him back to his cell.
The door clanged shut, leaving Andrich alone once more in the silence of his cold, dimly lit cell.
The man walked out of the room, holding the file and a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the rim. Sir Lorenzo pushed open the door to Sir Henderson's office, and the man strutted in with the grace of a peacock. He casually tossed the file onto the table and took a sip of his coffee.
"I've studied the man carefully," he said, his tone calm. "The disappearance of fear and the smug expression on his face indicate his honesty. He is not your man." The man adjusted his glasses slightly.
Sir Henderson sighed deeply, his disappointment evident. He had been expecting a positive answer. "So, what's next?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"We can release him and follow him covertly," the man suggested. "If Nafisa sees him as important, she will surely pay him a visit."
Sir Lorenzo interjected, "Sorry to interrupt, but that tactic won't work. Nafisa is too clever to fall for such an outdated trap."
Both Sir Henderson and the man turned to him. The man took another sip of his coffee. "Fine, Mr. Lorenzo. What do you propose we do instead?"
Sir Lorenzo paused, then replied, "Keep him here. Both Nafisa and VPS will want him out of our custody quickly. Either we'll face an evacuation or an execution. We can nab whoever tries to make a move."
The man smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "That's an interesting vision, Mr. Lorenzo. But both of them will require heavy resistance from our side. Do you expect them to just waltz in?"
"We don't have a better tactic right now," Sir Lorenzo shot back.
"ENOUGH!" Sir Henderson's voice rang out sharply. "We'll talk about this later. We have more pressing matters to deal with than speculating on a possible future scenario."
The man tossed his cup into the bin with a clink. "I think I should be going now. My flight to Chicago leaves at five." He shook hands with both Henderson and Lorenzo before turning to leave.
"What an arrogant man!" Sir Lorenzo muttered under his breath.
"His words aren't wrong," Henderson replied with a dry smile. "We don't have enough people here to resist an attack from either of them. He's been in this line of work for over half his life—he knows the ropes better than you."
"That doesn't give him the right to insult me," Lorenzo retorted, his voice thick with frustration. "He's off enjoying privileged vacations on public funds, while I'm still breaking my back solving cases that aren't even mine."
"No one forced you," Henderson said, his tone flat.
"I'm not doing it for amusement," Lorenzo snapped. "I'm doing it because it needs to be done, and I have a responsibility."
"You retired, remember?" Henderson's tone was pointed.
"That doesn't mean I want to sit on my ass, ignoring the world's problems," Lorenzo shot back, anger flaring.
"There's no point in arguing over something so futile," Henderson said with a shrug.
"Good." Lorenzo stormed out of the room, muttering under his breath.
Henderson sat back, rubbing his temples. "Why does no one listen to me seriously?" he grumbled to himself.
Ms. Maria watched her old friend storm angrily toward the bartender. "Hey, what's the matter? You look like a raging bull," she chuckled.
"Not a good time to test my patience," Lorenzo growled, glaring at her.
"You met him, didn't you?" Maria asked with a smirk.
"You knew he was coming?" Sir Lorenzo fumed with anger.
Ms. Maria grunted. "Of course. You silly. He's the best in this work—interrogation, negotiation, intimidation. He's the Beethoven of silent violence."
"Yes, the Beethoven of silent violence," Sir Lorenzo replied with a sly smile. "Just like Beethoven, he's completely deaf. Beethoven didn't listen to his compositions, and he doesn't listen to others. I seriously don't like that guy. He's exactly the definition of a man who shouldn't be in the UCID."
Lorenzo scoffed and gulped his drink, pushing it toward the bartender to signal for a refill.
"He's here before you. He's given more success to UCID than anyone else. His track record is flawless. Solved some of the toughest cases. He's a callous negotiator and a merciless soldier in his youth. That man is more revered than most." Ms. Maria remarked.
Sir Lorenzo smiled dryly. "Laurels don't define elegance. Character does. That man has none. He's always prioritized the mission above humanity. Killed thousands of innocents just because they were aligned with the wrong people. I'm convinced that's why God took his only son from him when he was young. His wife left him, and she died a year ago. Loneliness has only made him harsher and more reclusive. He's unfit for the position he holds. He's always been dogmatic, and he always will be."
"That's life," Maria muttered, finishing her drink.
Maria patted his shoulder with a dry smile. "What about Andrich now?"
"He can go to hell for all I care," Lorenzo snapped. "If he doesn't want to make things easier for himself, I'm not wasting any more time on a dead end."
He finished his drink, stood up, and walked out of the room. Maria watched him leave, her smile dry as she shook her head.
Sir Lorenzo walked blindly, lost in thought, when he bumped into Mr. Mitusawa. Mitusawa, solid as a rock, kept his balance, but poor Sir Lorenzo tripped and fell.
"Hey, boy. Watch where you're going," Mitusawa said, pulling him up.
"Sorry. Was a bit distracted," Sir Lorenzo replied with a faint smile.
"Something bothering you?" Mitusawa offered him a handkerchief to dust off his coat.
"Nothing serious. Just... some anger toward someone."
"Anger makes people anxious, and anxiety makes them do stupid things," Mitusawa said with a knowing smile.
"I wish that applied to everyone," Sir Lorenzo chuckled.
"What happened?" Mitusawa asked, more serious now.
"He came. And insulted me."
"Iyer?" Mitusawa guessed, grinning.
"Yes. Who else but Sir Narain Subramanian Iyer—the star of UCID."
"UCID has more than one star. You're no less than him," Mitusawa said, patting his shoulder.
"Thanks for the compliment. I should get going now," Sir Lorenzo smiled.
"Just try not to run people over next time," Mitusawa joked.
Sir Lorenzo smiled again and walked out of the UCID headquarters.....