The uncanny calm of the frosted mountains rising above the dark waters instilled cruel spiritual intimidation in the air. “Almost celestial,” John Francis took another breath against the bitchy freezing air as the uninvited thought knocked at his mind. He varied in religion. He had seen too many realities to believe in one faith, but as he stood there, on the deck of the ship that was taking him in the depths of the unknown lands of Antarctica, he could not help but think that if heaven and hell exist this must be it. This place, on top of the world where life struggles to make sense, but the immensity of nature, the power of it, takes your breath away. This must be heaven. “And it’s surely hell for the cowboys from Texas like me,” John rolled his eyes upon the thought.

The fact that he was here in Antarctica, for the wildest reason he could imagine, was sort of a teasing reminder that life was uncertain. Being an ex-army man and one of the finest commandos the country ever produced, John was a man of ferocity that hardly fancied dictation or demands to surrender. He has always been the one making his own way, no matter how ruthless it was, and then taking every battle headstrong. Now that he was comparing the situation a week ago when he was on his ranch, milking his cows and not giving a damn – the unpredictability of life pushing him to accept he was not always the one to call the shots.

“Perhaps death is the greatest among all – moving the life as it wants,” a pang of subtle pain surfaced through his heart as he thought of what actually brought him here. “Ah, your curiosity and driven hunger for truth. Damn you!” He looked at the plain sky that exposed no signs of humbleness in its demeanor, neither sign of the souls that tasted death, but John still had to talk to his friend, taking advantage of the silence and serenity. “Look where it has gotten us all,” he shook his head slowly and looked down at the edge of the ship and water’s collision. “You were so fascinated with this world, Antarctica the driest, largest, and the untamed continent of the world, holding the secrets that no man has dared to speak of, and only a few had been brave enough to explore – you wanted to know it all, at any cost. And it cost you your life!” He sighed; the trail of thoughts like the burden of this uncertain journey was becoming unnerving for John to carry further. “And look where it has taken me and the other who loved you – you passed on your struggle to us, and now we are here in this Tundra of Ice where darkest secrets are buried in the depths of years of ice. No one knows what we will get here, truth or death?” John shrugged at his imaginary dialogue with his deceased friend and turned around.

For a moment, John wished he could turn around the time too. Exactly reverse it to a week ago and go back to his ranch, but that is not it. He wished to crush that goddamn TV with his two bare hands, on which he heard that James Vandenburg’s died.

*****

The cows were milked, the rotting corpse of the wild beast that escaped from the forest was buried. The plants were shifted in a bigger pot, the garden was cleaned, and the newly budded herbs were plucked and shaped. John rechecked everything in his mind and commended himself. Today was quite a productive day, and he was happy about it. On his ranch, where no other human was in sight, things were always calm and not so happening in John’s life for quite some time. He was happy because he chose to make it that way after spending years in brutal military warfare and high-profile secret missions. Even after cutting his cord from the military, he dedicated a big chunk of his time to serving as a secret agent for personal or private parties. He was an all-can-do guy with skill, access, and exposure to the places few had seen. He was the finest, and those who knew him knew that, but it all came with the cost. His demeanor transformed him into a hardcore muscular beast who spoke little and think a lot. He had seen too much – much more than a man should see. Some night it all came back, like crashing backward waves to the shore that vomited everything on the coast that the ocean was holding for years. The screaming children he could not save in Afghanistan, the cries of the fellow soldier who waited for his help, but he could not lose his cover; the incidents were countless, the memories were muddled.

It was more of the inhuman deceptions he had witnessed than the trauma and consequences that made him suffer. The world was full of lies. The ones searching for truth had to wound their hands, plucking the thorns of illusions. “Illusions after illusions” was what he thought of the world now, and so, when he no longer had the will to lift another veil of deception, he took his corner and decided to let life pass by uneventfully now. He was too well aware of believing in anything, so he decided to stay in the realm of nothingness.

John locks the door of his home and leaves. He briefly listens to the wild animal sounds of the forest and the tranquility of the place. This is what now gave him peace – no cases to solve, no brutality to endure, just the sound of nature in its purest form. He gets in his car and drives off every Saturday. The ranch was a few miles away from the local bar where men, tourists, and others come by to have a drink, all very Texan and low-key. John liked it because no one bothered him. He was known by some of them now as the silent guy who drank his rum and gave no shit.

He took his usual seat on the table. Stanley, the bartender, saw him and smiled. “The guy is a loner, but damn he’s punctual,” he thought and, with a nod, started to prepare his usual order. He knew that John didn’t like to talk much, but Stanley could estimate the guy’s level of depth on seldom occasions that he did. He is 5’9 with a muscular body – not so flashy that it looks cheap stunt to look younger yet not so subtle that it was negligible. Most of his clothes were with simple black or white shirts only – it was funny how he never wore grey. “There have been no grey areas in my life,” he used to joke around if someone asked. Now no one asked because no one knew him. “Assumptions are always people’s first choice anyway,” he thought while staring at his glass of rum. The ice danced in his drink. He was completely lost in his thoughts when the shrill voice of the reporter caught his attention.

He looked over the TV. There was a frenzy in reporters’ style, and in the split of the screen, they were showing someone’s body being removed from what seems to be a hotel. It was not the voice that forced him to get out of his head but the name she had taken, “James Vandenberg was an only hour ago alive and healthy as paparazzi caught them leaving the Dallas country club.” John forgot to take a sip.

“Increase the volume, please,” he said to the bartender, who then obliged. The whole bar could now hear the sensational news that had spread like wildfire.

“James Vandenberg, the influential media tycoon, is reported to be dead. He was attending the annual journalism seminar this evening when he suddenly collapsed. Sources up till now cannot confirm the nature of his death, but the rising suspicion is getting higher that it could be a murder.” Shock punched John in the gut; he put down the glass and stared at the screen without winking.

James Vandenberg owned CBS media group – the largest media company in the US that ran three private channels and a top-notch media agency under its wing. Besides his infinite resource and influence, he was known as the God of Political journalism and broadcasting. He was a man who met thousand people in a day, and yet with John, James has shared a more personal outline. James had hired him back in the days when he worked as a PI. John worked him for many of his cases. Both of the men respected and admired each other’s uniqueness and authenticity.

He then became almost a part of his investigative work but once, what began as just a curiosity project based on hunches, turned out to be so lethal that James could not afford to dig more. He pulled strings and made John go underground too. He remembered his last meeting with James. He looked somewhat startled and confused. He definitely didn’t want John to go, but it seemed like he must send him away. John didn’t ask many questions despite his curiosity and an urge to stay. He respected James enough not to question his decision, but then he said something before leaving that stayed in John’s mind for a long time. “If you ever see me on television, and you think I should find out what happened. Come here and find out. I trust you to do that,” James had shaken his hand and whispered with a pale face.

John had smiled, “But you are always on TV.”

“Yes, but you will know when you will feel that you must find out the truth; on that day, don’t ignore your gut. I’ll probably need you.”

Now, exactly one year later, John was here, sitting in the bar, sipping rum and playing dumb while James was dead, “I got to find out what happened.”

*****

Marian Denison looked at the sound-less digital clock fitted in front of her with a purpose. Normally, it helped her in recording her boss’s activities and scheduling his day-to-day activities. However, today, the passing minutes on that clock made her uncomfortable. Every second of James Vandenburg’s life was worth thousands of dollars. He was always on the go, moving one step ahead of the clock’s dial. “Media, Marian, never stops – the television never goes blank, the Facebook feed is never empty, and media never runs out of the things to tell you because there are men like me who never stop.” He once told Marian, his personal assistant for five years. Marian always felt extremely lucky to find a job that paid so well, but moreover, she was happy she got to be under the wing of a man who was an inspiration per atom.

Vandenburg was viciously brilliant in whatever he did, and he always maintained the impression that he had done nothing at all. He was the puppet master who knew his skill enough not to let the audience know he is pulling the strings. The owner of the top news channel in the country – NCC 5, was responsible for what the people see about the politicians, the celebrities, and the world. Therefore, his affiliations ran deep into the world of power and control. Despite his cutthroat industry expertise and power, James Vandenburg never missed to put a smile on his face and keep his shoulder loose while talking to a subordinate out of humbleness. “That’s why all of his people love him so much,” Marian thought. But she was unsure about the people inside with him for almost four hours now. She looked at the clock again. In her five years with James Vandenburg, she has never seen anything that bizarre. He never meets anyone without an appointment, and yet when today these three guys who looked like they walked in straight out of the matrix movie showed up without any prior permission or appointment, Marian thought they were nuts. She was about to call security, but they didn’t even wait, “Heck, they didn’t even stop to check in with me and just barged in the office?” Marian was still stunned.

“Excuse me. You can’t go in there! Hello?” She had run behind them, but they didn’t listen. She came running back, but to her surprise, the message from James was flashing on her laptop’s screen.

“It’s fine, don’t call anyone, do not disturb whatsoever. Cancel all appointments and calls.”

He must have seen them from the camera, but how come he allowed this? And who the actual hell were these people. For the next three hours, Marian sat there in a dilemma. Every passing minute she was getting more anxious, “Should I just go and check?” Secrecy was not something new for James Vandenburg. He had different circles of communication and connections that demanded various levels of secrecy and confidentiality. Marian was welcomed in all of those, but for security and record-keeping – every move of her boss had a record. James, sometimes, sent her an encrypted location tracker that could only be opened when James allowed, but something about this meeting didn’t feel right to Marian. She had no choice but to wait.

Finally, after four hours and 15 minutes, the door opened. The three men in black suits walked out and went out of the room without even looking at Marian. James Vandenburg also came out to Marian’s surprise, but he stopped at her desk. His face was pale, and he suddenly looked very weak.

“Are you alright, sir?” She asked.

“There will be no record of them coming here. Okay? Not a single entry,” he ignored her question completely. Marian nodded with reluctance. She was suddenly worried for him.

“After one hour, you have the annual journalism seminar to attend. Should I tell them you are not coming?” 

“No, why won’t I go?’

“Umm… Because you look like you have seen a ghost or somehow become one?” Marian thought but didn’t say.

“I’ll go an hour but don’t disturb me for before that, I have some things to attend to.” With that, James Vandenburg walked out, leaving Marian even more clueless and confused than before.

In exactly one hour, he entered the grand lounge of the exclusive event; he was honoring the night. There were no traces of weakness or worry on his face, just the same confident smile and proud strides. James had a dominating demeanor. He was not very tall with a height of 5’5, and at the age of fifty, his forehead was getting bigger and bigger with his hairline threshing backward. Still, with each passing year in the industry, his personality was becoming an epitome of ultimate power, which provided him an aura that spoke volumes even when he stayed silent when he didn’t have to speak. James was self-made, and his refined version was the product of growth that his raw talent, thrust, and energy as a young socio-political journalist accumulated. He wasn’t your shiny surface CEO who had zero vision and hunger for publicity. James Vandenburg never had time to notice who was following him and who was not. He was always too busy following the truth. He was always more interested in what to do than to be. That is why even when a world thought about him, his wariness from the attention made him seem somehow more impactful.

It was clearly visible even how the mood of the hall changed when he entered. On the announcement of his name, the room was filled with thunder applaud the camera flashes almost made everyone blind as he walked towards the stage. The whispers and applause grew louder, the gasps and people getting conscious of their own self to be perfectly presented in this man’s presence became the room’s ultimate vibe.

“Thank you so much, Ladies and Gentlemen – to be a part of this incredulous series of events is highly valuable for all of us,” James spoke with a magnetic power in his voice that drew everyone’s attention towards him. “Being a representative of a channel that broadcasts news to 35 countries in the world, I would like to put a present reminder of how impactful our representation of the world is for its sustainability and justice. We all share the responsibility for active but non-threatening reporting of the world events.”

“He never uses the paper,” Jack Harris admires James, sitting in the front row.

“Truth – no matter how complex is the right of the people, and I have made every effort to bring it in front of the people in my entire career.”

“His speech is somewhat different today,” an unconscious feeling transformed into thought and knocked in Jack’s mind. He spoke about media ethics and found the truth instead of focusing on media strategies and journalism forms, as he usually does.

The people, however, stayed attentive. James spoke for the next 15 minutes, and the audience listened to him like a sermon conducted by God.

When James finishes his speech, the thunder of applause is louder than when he started. James walked away from the mike and stepped down from the stage but before he could reach his seat James stopped dead in his feet, with an expression of shock on his face, the applause died, but nobody could understand anything and just like that the giant of the industry fell right in the middle of the hall. Everyone screamed and ran towards him. Jack Harris caught him before anyone. The horrible but unexplainable realization hit Jack Harris’s gut as he saw pale James with half eyes opened, “He’s dying.” 

“Call an ambulance!” Jack barked. James’ staff and guards were already on the move.

“James!” Jack called him. James looked at him with his almost closed eyes, “Take care of Kate.” He pressed Jack’s hand, and then it was over. Jack’s eyes were widened with horror and shock. Someone threw him behind, hospital staff it was, and that was how James Vandenburg went from the world – in the deafening applause of people like a quick storm that leaves everything dismantled behind.

*****

Kate Vandenburg felt alien in this soft black dress, sitting at the back of this black Lamborghini. The car was his father’s gift, which she never used. Now, when she was going to his funeral, she felt lost, tired, with a silent hell growing inside of her every minute. Outside, the reporters were literally throwing themselves on her car; even the tainted windows failed to stop the flashlight tearing the inside scene in the car. Kate cared about nothing; with her shades on that hid her sore red eyes and her head-tired resting on the back of the seat, she couldn’t make sense of the reality.

When James Vandenburg was counting his last breath in Dallas, Kate, his only child and the sole inheritor of his incredible dynasty, was reporting the pieces of evidence of a secret mission going on in Arizona. “That’s the most exciting thing that you can get,” Jack Harris, the owner of booming digital news and content company and Kate’s boss, had raised his hands in the air.

“Come on, Harris! Please,” Kate pleaded. “Please let me go to cover this murder story of the minister’s son in DC! You know I can do it!”

“Of course, you can, Kate. But you get too excited, and you forget you are a junior journalist, not some big shot investigator, and then things get messed up,” Jack reminded him for the 50^th time how she went overboard in the murder case last year. “You can’t tell the chief investigating officer to back away so that you can collect evidence!”

“I can,” Kate Vandenburg rolled her eyes and thought.

“No, you can’t!!!” Harris read her mind. Why wouldn’t he? Jack Harris and James Vandenburg were childhood friends who grew up successful together. So, when Kate reached the point in her career where she struggled to leave his father – a gigantic shadow in the industry, Jack welcomed her and mentored her, but Kate, like her father, was too restless to dive into deeper things. She had a natural knack for it. However, most people saw it as the impulsiveness of a rich spoiled brat. Kate hated that, the stereotypical blame of nepotism. It somehow gave people the right to assume that she had no talent and was only surviving in the industry because she was James Vandenberg’s daughter. So, she did what she felt like to be done to feel more of herself; she made every attempt to escape James’ influence to prove herself on her own.

Her academic excellence was no doubt proof on its own. She studied journalism with distinction at one of the world’s top institutions and even continued to explore more in her master’s degree. Yet, her father was such a giant figure that it was almost impossible to get away from his influence. Kate secretly felt this was why, even now, when she was thirty, her career and life were somewhere in the middle of starting up and not being there at all, but today all these things seemed very trivial. Kate never met her mom; she passed away while giving birth to her and now, the person who loved her the most, her only family, was gone, just like that all of a sudden. Even though James was like a God Father for her and inspiration, whatever she had in her for journalism and media was all because she saw James making his way to the top. From handling arguments of live media to reporting the most dangerous news with a subtle, smooth blow – Kate saw her father doing his magic since childhood.

Now, she was all alone. The legacy she wanted to leave behind was now waiting for her with loads of burden and responsibilities and very little clarity. What troubled her most besides her own tragedy was how James died. When Jack told her, “She needs to come home,” not in her wildest dreams, she thought she was going to attend his father’s funeral, but nobody was telling her the reason for his death, the cause. “How? How can he just fall and die?” She thought. She had his father’s weekly check-up reports where everything was normal. So, what kind of medical tragedy made him collapse like that? Somewhere, she blamed herself not to be there to have things known better.

“Love, you got to be brave” Jack Harris, who was accompanying her, tapped her hand softly. His voice pulled Kate out of her thoughts. “Hmm? Don’t worry. I am my father’s daughter!” She turned towards the cameras, still flashing on her black tinted window. “I know how to put on a people’s face. It practically runs in my blood.”

When they finally stepped out, Kate remained silent. She wanted to talk to no one unless she sees her father. She directly walked towards the casket, politely accepting everyone’s condolences but not responding to any. All eyes were on her as she moved with a bitter determination, but shock hit her again as she saw the empty coffin. She turned to Jack, demanding an explanation with her eyes.

“My dear, they need an autopsy of your father to find out what happened.” 

“They? Who they? And why have I not been informed of this?” 

“Ma’am, we wanted to get in touch with you sooner,” an officer came closer and interrupted, “but there was no way. You already boarded the flight.” His voice was low, and his manner was secretive, “We believed it is in the best interest to keep things silent publicly.”

“He is right, Kate!” Jack put a hand on her shoulder.

“I want to see my father,” she demanded with an icy voice not filled with anger but piercing grief and incredible power.

John watched this whole scene from afar. He silently sipped the wine and watched Kate’s burning eyes flaring flames of anger and sorrow. Something was not right. John was experienced enough to know that the body was not in the coffin. No high-profile death can be dealt with as ordinary, even if the person dies in his sleep and James Vandenberg did not die in his sleep. He died surrounded by hundreds of celebrities, media giants, and some very important people. There was no way the police could have let it go just like that. James watched the three of them leave in a hurry.

*****

“I am sorry, ma’am, we can’t show you the body unless you complete all the necessary documentation.” Officer Felon, who was overseeing the police investigation, told Kate.

“Excuse me? Will you stop me from seeing my father? How dare you? I have hundreds of people waiting for me to go back to his funeral and bury an empty coffin, and you will stop me from seeing him before I do that?” Kate demanded. Jack tried to intervene, but Kate didn’t give him a chance. They were getting late for the funeral.

“Ma’am, I am not stopping you. You just got to complete the necessary documentation.” 

“Did you not hear me? I don’t have time for this!” Kate moved one step forward with more anger in her voice this time.

“Hey,” Someone from behind called. Everybody turned and saw John standing.

“John!” Jack immediately recognized. There was a delight in his voice. John nodded in recognition,” Jack, how you doing?” 

“Who are you?” Kate was in no mood for more mysteries. She didn’t like that one stranger barged in to interrupt her from what she wanted to do. Their eyes met, they both refused to look away, but John didn’t answer the question. Instead, he took officer felon two steps away and started to talk.

“Oh God, Good he is here,” Jack cried. 

“Who is he?” Kate asked, all annoyed

“He is your father’s best agent of all times, a loyal companion and a retired military man and special agent, John Francis.”

Kate looked at him, eyeing how he was talking to the officer. He wasn’t smiling or buttering, but the officer was listening to him intently. After a few minutes, he nodded, and they came back.

“Now we’ll have no problem,” Jack was already sure.

“Okay,” Said officer felon, “You can go.” Kate looked surprisingly at John, who still did not explain, but there was no time for question and answer. Kate walked into the building.

*****

The room’s temperature was freezing-cold, yet Kate felt as if she was burning. James’s face was pale and lifeless, his mouth a little bluish, and the nerves stretched like elastic wires. The body was kept safe in the cold room with high levels of security to preserve it until Kate signed the autopsy permission for herself.

For a second, Kate could not think of anything else but her little five-year-old self trying to deliver the perfect weather report to his father, who pretended to be a cameraman. Tears welled from her eyes. She wanted to wake him up and promise she would never leave, but she could not do that. “You are not coming back, dad?” She touched his hand with her fingers, but as she saw a minor black spot, her tips stopped right there. There was something on her father’s wrist. “What is that?” she mumbled.

She caressed her tips on the wrinkled skin to have a clear look. It was a tattoo. She gasped; as long as she remembers, her father never had a tattoo ever. This sign was two – A-frames – just two A’s without the middle line above each other. Kate looked at his father’s face, “What does this mean, father?” 

“Kate?” Jack called her from the back

She turned immediately.

“We should go; everyone is waiting,” he reminded softly. Kate shook her head slowly, took one last look at her father’s face and the tattoo, and left.

Outside, John was still standing. They both looked at each other again but said nothing. However, Jack paused for a moment to shake John’s hand. “Don’t leave,” he whispered to him. “We might need you.” 

“I am not leaving,” John said quietly, reassuring with his eyes. Kate eyed his expression suspiciously one more time and then turned away to sit in her car. This mystery could wait. Right now, she had to bury the empty casket proving her father’s very real death. She kept thinking about the Tattoo but said nothing to anyone.

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Kate shifted her side, thinking of how her father died. “It’s a natural death,” she repeated the sentence out loud to let it; somehow, it just doesn’t seem alright. She shook her head in frustration and pain.

Something was not right. Something was off. Her gut kept punching the feeling under her skin, and yet her conscious and unconscious mind grappled to make sense of her emotions and intuitions.

John studied her from some distance, keeping him well hidden and out of sight. Kate Vandenburg was not difficult to recognize. She had a stark resemblance to her father, not just in her features but also in how she walked and spoke. She had this fierce energy that intimidated people but a restlessness that came from the immense hunger for truth. “Just like her father,” John smiled unintentionally. She had almost set, her tall, slender figure was transforming in a shadow in the dim lights, but John could see her face. Kate Vandenburg was beautiful, no doubt, but something else made her memorable – her sharpness. Her skin was the most delightful full shade – not so white that it seems pale, not so beige that it gets tan. Her jawline was enhanced, giving her a touch of a stern soul. “I don’t doubt that; like father, like daughter,” John thought. She had big eyes – big fierce eyes that sparkled with intelligence, and yet there was a rawness in her beauty. She wasn’t the all-polished, fake Botox-rich girl. However, with her head down and her shoulders slumped. She seemed like an innocent child, struggling to find her way out of confusion. John weighed his options. He needed to go and talk to her, but just like her, he was dealing with utter darkness right now. He didn’t know what to say.

“How do I tell her and more importantly, ‘What do I tell her’?” For now, John did not have any evidence any confirmation of a conspiracy, only her father’s last statement, “If you ever see me on television, and you think I should find out what happened. Come here and find out. I trust you to do that.”

“Why would she believe that?” John looked at her. She definitely wasn’t the one to trust anyone without evidence of what he was offering. John didn’t blame her. She needed that kind of paranoia and alertness in the circumstances she was in. “No, I need to find something before I tell anyone anything,” he thought, but he found an uneasy feeling, leaving Kate unwatched. “What if I am too late,” a voice inside him questioned. Then he saw Jack Harris coming her way, “She is in safe hands.” He turned away to leave – “I have got things to do,” John disappeared in the dark.

*****

Jack took small steps towards the sad girl who was like his daughter. It had been more than five years since she was blooming under his wings. She was not just his favorite employee but a daughter whom he loved fiercely. He had never seen Kate this silent and angry, and yet he could understand her state. “She’s a journalist; after all, she needs her reality crystal clear,” he had thought while watching her in the car.

“Tough day, kid?” He smiled sadly. Kate nodded. No matter how many quarrels she’d have with Jack, she knew he was the only person left with whom she could let her guards down.

Jack Harris nodded in response, “Look, I won’t tell you everything is going to get okay. In fact, my responsibility is to tell you the truth, to prepare you for it, and the Truth is your life is not going to be the same ever again.” Kate looked at him intently.

“There is a whole legacy that you have to carry on your back now, your father’s channel and all the things he has been working upon; it’s all for you,” Kate immediately lost interest.

“No, no! That’s not what is most important right now,” she said in frustration.

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know,” she stood up in frustration. “Damn Jack! I don’t know, but all these legalities, these formalities, this media layer of reality, it doesn’t fit!” Jack narrowed her eyebrows in question. Kate lifted her hands in an exploring gesture and then dropped them helplessly, “I just feel that Dad’s death has more to it than what it seems.”

“What?” Jack took a step back.

“Jack, I know you are always accusing me of being overdramatic and seeing things that aren’t there but Dad’s death; this has something more to it.” 

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Kate didn’t let him. “Listen to me, okay! This isn’t some assignment that I am excited to work upon. I assure you it gives me no thrill to think about my dad’s death and attach conspiracy theories to it, but he was my father! And I knew him better than anyone. And you have to listen to me when I say something is not right” Kate’s voice shivered ever so slightly.

“Okay,” Jack said calmly. “I believe you. You are his daughter, and if you are saying something, I can’t doubt it won’t have any substance. But do what makes you feel this way?”

Kate sighed, “The fact that we don’t know how he died. Sure, it looks like heart failure or something medical, but we don’t know it for sure. Besides, dad did not have a heart problem. In fact, his health was in perfect shape; I had all his regular checkup reports just last week.” She waved her phone in front of him, touched the screen a few times, and then showed it to Jack. “Look at his reports and tell me, what possible health condition could cause this death, besides a very rare and inexplicable one.”

Jack eyed the reports and then stared in the void, thinking about it. “Dear, it is still a possibility, the only sensible possibility because James died in front of my eyes. It’s not like anybody hurt him, or there was any mystery to what happened. He was completely fine, moments ago from taking his last breath,” Jack gulped, rewinding the scene. “The autopsy will further clarify things.” 

“I saw something on dad’s wrist – a tattoo.”

“A what?” Jack knew James enough to know how much he detested needles. “Those monsters!” He had called the doctor once who injected him to draw out the blood for a test, and Jack had laughed at him, “For god’s sake, you are forty-year-old, James.” 

“I don’t care. I just had those god damn needles. I will invest a million dollars if anyone comes up with an idea to replace these prickly monsters.” Now ten years fast forward. Jack was sitting at the remains of the late James Vandenberg’s funeral where her daughter was telling him that she saw a tattoo on James’ wrist. “Impossible,” he said. “Maybe it was artificial or removable but certainly not a real tattoo. Your dad would have died then and there; he had not waited for this long.” 

Kate looked at him, criticizing his bad humor, “I am sorry, kid. But yeah, there is no way he had a tattoo.” 

“Okay, then why would he even have a replica or a fake tattoo on his wrist?” Kate challenged. Jack fell silent. “I mean, he was too classy to be that showy. You knew dad; he had no time for these shenanigans. Why would he trouble himself to get a fake tattoo?”

“What was it like?” Jack asked.

Kate hurried to one of the tables and brought a tissue paper. “Give me the pen,” she asked, knowing that Jack always had a pen to him. “Typical old journalism romance,” Kate used to make fun of him.

Jack obliged and handed a pen from his pocket. Kate drew something on the tissue paper and showed him. “What the…” Jack said

“Exactly!”

“What is this?”

“I have no idea.”

Jack looked at the symbol again, it was ironically simple, yet it made no sense. The two open as collided with their middle line above them rather than crossing from the center.

“These look like… mountains or something,” Kate said.

“Doesn’t make any sense to me, though. Can you recall anything with which we can relate to this sign? You know perhaps a society or a symbolic meaning that dad had ever mentioned?”

“No, in fact, he didn’t even have it three weeks ago because that was when I met him. I can affirm he did not have this on his wrist then.” 

Jack went silent for the longest time. Kate could feel the suspicion setting in his mind, too, now, “I think we need to look into it.” 

On a regular day at work, this would have been the best words for Kate from Jack’s mouth because that meant permission to proceed on a specific assignment, but today, as he said it, Kate only felt unsettling anxiety. It strengthened her suspicions, and that was a paradoxical feeling. She was relieved that it was not just her who could see something was off. On the other hand, it terrified her to predict what it meant if her instinct was true. “It can turn out not to be a natural death,” she shuddered, and so did James. It was like both of them could read each other’s minds and fears.

“It’s crazy how minds work,” Jack commented. “I didn’t know why I told John to stay and that we might need him, now I know.” 

“John?” Kate said, “That guy who met us there? Who is he anyway? I know I have seen him around my father a few times many years ago, but what is his purpose? What does he add up to the story?”

“Well, he is someone really resourceful and has served as a right hand for your father in many of his secret assignments,” Kate tilted her head, listening intently with interest.

“Former military man, highly-skilled, insanely independent and sharp – I know he seems like a weird fellow, that because he is one indeed,” Jack smiled.

“I agree – he seemed…” Kate thought of those deep eyes boring into hers when they had met, “Peculiar.” She took a pause and completed the sentence.

“Don’t judge him too quickly; he is beyond your wildest imagination. Besides, I think if anyone is able enough to look into James’ death, it’s him.”

“Why him? We have authorities by our side. He was James, God damn Vandenberg James, and if we tell them, it could be something else, they will have to look into it.” 

“Sure, but do you think that if James was purposefully killed, it could be a job done by a common person? He was a high-profile personality. People knew him, every-freaking-body knew him, and your father was not someone with a sift record; he had gone hard and destructive on so many giants, people with enormous power. What makes you think that his enemies who can be suspects of his death are not powerful enough to control or at least influence authorities?” Jack asked. Kate thought about it.

“Moreover, these people have set measures and rules; they won’t go on your word if you show suspension, and they will never share evidence to confirm your suspicion. You saw what happened today when we want to see the body, right?” Kate nodded. He was not wrong. His father had always been involved in massively dangerous expositions, and he was never afraid of it, so there was a higher chance that if James Vandenberg was murdered, those people would not be easy to trace.

“I should call Dakota,” Kate said.

“Dakota?” 

“My girl, she is merciless when it comes to extracting information.”

“Come on, Kate. I am telling you; John is the right man for this, and we need him on this.”

“Okay, Jack, maybe you are right, but I can’t move forward with anything until I have my facts right!”

“But Kate, I am telling you John must have a lot of information about your father’s activities.”

“Maybe you are right, but for now, I need a source that I can trust. Once I have my foundation, I can approach others, don’t blame me; that’s what you have taught me as a journalist,” Kate looked at him as a matter-of-fact. Jack could not help but nod.

“Besides,” Kate continued, “You don’t know Dakota. She is a devil with an insanely fast computer; there is no limit to what she can do.” 

*****

Her eyes moved up and down from her screen to keyboard every nanosecond. Her finger ran like dancing thunder over the keyboard. “Hey, Bennie! I got to have that Americano in the next 30 seconds, or I swear to God, I’ll rip this place off!” She called Bennie, the owner of the coffee shop, who was standing on the counter without taking a moment to look past her screen.

“Classic Dakota!” Bennie rolled her eyes and filled her large cup of Americano. Her shocking red hoodie with the tightest neon legging was hard to ignore and easy to find in the swarm of customers.

“Here you go,” Bennie served her, herself. As always. This time Dakota looked up and flashed a smile. Her eyes sparked the happy emotion from behind light green cat eyeglasses, “Dakota loves you, and you know that.”

“No brag!” Bennie rolled her eye and left her to work. This was the routine for the past four years, so everyone knew their role. However, Kate’s entry was seldom, more like a cameo.

Bennie saw her coming. Kate blinked her eyes to say, “Don’t worry. I have got this,” and moved forward to Dakota’s table. Kate knew her specific table by heart now.

She patted on her shoulder, and Dakota was about to burst like a balloon, but she immediately softened when she saw Kate. “Kate!” Dakota stood up and hugged her. Bennie watched the two ladies and knew this must be something of a special occasion. Dakota hated hugs.

“I am so sorry about your father,” she whispered. Kate embraced her fully.

“Actually,” both the ladies parted, “That is why I have come to you.”

“Yeah, you told me over the phone. Tell me what we are dealing with.”

Kate explains the whole situation, and Dakota only listens.

“It seems like we need to dig in without any of the leads.”

“Yes, and I know that can be very confusing. I am sorry I don’t even know what to tell you to look for.”

“Nothing is confusing when Dakota gets on to work – just give some time, and I’ll get back to you with something we can work upon.” Kate smiled. That was one of the reasons she loved Dakota.

With her, Kate never had to bang her head on the wall while explaining what she wanted. She was like a tech wizard that could dig out any grave on the internet. Nothing was inaccessible for Dakota. When Kate had hired 16-year-old Dakota to collect secret information about the Vietnamese immigrants that the government was questioning, she thought she had made a mistake. That frenzied, extremely thin, and loud social teenager didn’t seem serious enough for the job, but she blew Kates’s mind when she provided her with more than what she expected in just two hours. Kate never let go of her ever since.

Today Dakota was the number one researcher in the media industry and was even more fearless than before. Most of all, she was Kate’s friend who was hell-bent on calling out everyone who might have been involved in James Vandenburg’s death.

However, Kate had no idea she had other well-wishers trying to reach the core of the matter. Had she known that John was meeting with, scared to death, Marian Denison, James’ secretary a few miles away? Kate would not have been reluctant to include John in her quest. Things, however, on both sides were about to unfold.

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It was odd that Kate had been into this office many times and yet sitting in his father’s chair and looking at his space with the perspective of someone who worked there. For the first time in her life, Kate felt that she and her father might have been very different people. Their worlds have grown to be different, and with that, an unsettling realization was putting weight on her shoulder. She might not know everything about James Vandenberg.

“But I have to find out,” she eyed the two papers lying on the desk in front of her. One was the official autopsy report of Vandenberg’s death. The second was the list of suspects provided by Dakota who may be involved in some conspiracy and had the motive to kill Kate’s father. The first document implied that the second document was utterly baseless. Cause of death: Heart stroke, they had said in the report, which meant there was no need of suspicion – there was no need to ponder upon the list lying next to the report and dig who could have tried to take James’s life.

Kate dropped the first paper and picked up the second. She skimmed through the 12 names – only two of them were known to her. Her father was an influential man – but what might cause him death was that he was a curious man. His roots were strengthened into the soil of true journalism. Therefore, even when he reached the heights of media control, he did not let himself become vague by cutting cords with authentic research work.

James lived to find the truth that no one else could see coming. He was on the back of many research projects that were going on secretively to reveal the hideous secrets of powerful people. Some were even involved with the government. His equals were also not his friends because they were his competition. James was too busy to be competitive. He had the purpose of staying in control with the power of information, which created hostility, jealousy, and anger among many other media moguls. That was the problem, they wanted to be like him, but they were not. Their image and motivation came from lavishness and the shiny surface of things, while James came from the innate need to get into the core of things – they could never compete with him.

“And maybe that’s why they thought to eliminate him,” Kate thought, rubbing the tip of her thumb on one name after another on the list. “But how do I confirm my hunch is right? This is too simple to be the truth,” she again picked up the medical report. She brainstormed for a few minutes then dialed a number.

“Hey Ron, I need your help with something,” she said to Ron, who was her go-to medical expert every time she had suspicions that proof had been altered in a case. “Yes, actually, I have something personal for you to look at this time.” 

While Kate was having the conversation that would change the course of the entire situation, outside James Vandenburg’s office, extremely nervous, Marian was repeating the conversation she had yesterday with John. She didn’t know what to expect next. The way James Vandenberg died and the men who visited him that morning had no connection, and yet Marian had felt this gnawing fear ever since she had heard of James’ death. It was traumatizing for her, and her heart ached that the kindest person around in her professional life was no more. It was more of a personal loss to her. But somehow, every emotion, every thought had been dominated by the image of those men in black. So, when John Francis pushed her to share anything suspicious, Marian could not help but tell him. Now, Kate was inside the office. It is evident that she wanted to recollect herself and familiarize herself with his father’s world, “But, she knows too little,” Marian had thought.

“Should I tell her about the man who is investigating his father’s death? And the men who visited him,” Marian had thought. “She had the right to know,” an inside voice announced as she saw Kate this morning – her worn-out face and swollen eyes were clearly showing the agony she was going through. Marian felt for the poor girl, but she didn’t know what the right thing to do after all was. She had no evidence of those men coming or even any proof of James Vandenberg’s death connected to any sort of conspiracy.

The two women sat in the same space, only separated by a wall, pondering over the same question. Was there more to what was visible?

*****

“The Dallas bars were different from the one back in Texas,” John thought, looking around. He could not say they all went futile, but there was this expanding hole of confusion and uncertainty that he could not fill. Besides the interior and all, the hustle-bustle never left the space to be quiet, serene, or just peaceful for even a moment. Everybody eyed everyone with curiosity. “Small towns and big towns,” he missed home. It had been four days since he was here.

Clearly, something was wrong, but that something was still unknown. John had thought about the men in black James’ secretary told him about. “They were serious and looked dangerous; James particularly told me to remove all records of their visit. He never did that before,” she had said.

John wondered who those men could be.

“What did they look like? I mean ethnicity-wise. Asian? European?”

“They were all very white, but they wore black glasses and old, looked so same. I cannot tell from where they belonged.”

John had an inner feeling that this could lead him somewhere, but how could he know who those men were. Before he could think something else, Jack quietly took the seat beside him on the bar and ordered a whiskey on the rocks.

“Since when have you become the whiskey guy,” John smiled.

“Ever since you had become the sheep in the farm,” Jack took a sip. John chuckled, “That’s a ranch, not a farm.” 

“You should have more concerns that I called you a sheep,” Jack’s wit sparkled through even his matter-of-fact tone. John was truly enjoying it, “You know me. I don’t give a shit what they call me – never have.” 

“You know what your problem is, John?” Jack straightened and looked at him for the first time. “You care way too much, and you are not ready to admit it.”

John only smiled. That was a rare sight but so was when someone had guessed something right about him. “I don’t care,” he repeated without any enthusiasm to make it sound like the truth.

“Yes, you do; that’s why you are still here,” Jack said meaningfully.

John felt silent and thought for a moment, “He was a good man – James.”

“He was,” Jack said, looking at the same void as John. “And now he’s gone.” 

“I don’t think it’s a natural death,” John cut to the chase.

“Hallelujah!” Jack slammed the glass on the bar. “You are already going well along with Kate. Did you find something?” 

“Not yet, except that my inner gut is surer that someone was after him. I extracted some information about who he met in the last days,” John told him about the men in black. “I still don’t know whether it’s anything or not. Do you know who else he did meet in his last days or what has he been working on lately?”

“James had become quite secretively in the last year, especially about his projects, mostly you were my source of information when you worked with him, but after that, I kind of was clueless. Then again, I had other things to focus on, like training her daughter to be a better media influence than he is… was!” Jack, who was smiling at Kate’s thought, became sad when he had to correct his tense. “Was, he is gone” 

John narrowed his eyebrows.

“What?”

“You just said that he has become quite secretive about his research; I believe that was the exact same reason he let me go because he could no longer involve me in the project. This means that he was doing something which he did not want any of us to find out,” John then told him about his last conversation with James. “He said if you see me on television and you think I should go and see him, then I must not hesitate, so clearly, he had an idea of things turning south but what could be so important and confidential that he would fire his agent, hide from his daughter and don’t tell a thing to her daughter?” John was thinking out loud. He then looked at Jack, who was listening intently too. Both the men were thinking the same question now, without even putting it into words.

“What was he working on for so long?”

*****

Dakota switched quickly from one to another among the several opened tabs in her window. Her mind was working with the speed of light. Finally, she could find a lead that could be of some value. She pressed enter, and the result produced an expression of triumph in her eyes. She immediately called Kate.

“Hello?” Kate answered.

“Do you know where your dad was from October 12 to November 4 this year?” 

“Umm, I’ll have to check. Wait, October, you said?” Kate thought for a while; Dakota patiently waited to drop the bomb. “He was on tour over some official business in France.”

“Officially yes, only that he wasn’t in France after 18th of October, contrary to the news and what the rest of the world knows,” Dakota took hold to release the information but not for long. It was her father’s friend they were talking about, and she preferred instant help instead of professional dominance or pride. “James Vandenberg was in Chile, Kate – why? Nobody knows.”

“Chile? What the hell he went there for?” Kate narrowed her brows. “Are you sure about this? Because I literally talked to him all the time when he was in France.”

“I hacked into his account, and I have found his tickets, Kate.”

“Dakota, can you find out where he’d stay or whom he met there? Anything, anything about it.”

“I am trying, surely I’ll crack something out, but until then, look at the list I gave you again, see if there can be any connection of any of those names with your dad’s private visit to Chile.”

“Got it, thanks, Dakota.”

“Any time, girl.” 

Kate finished the call and sighed, “How many secrets are there in your life, Dad?” She looked at his picture on the wall of his office, smiling brightly with politicians of the world. She revived the time when he talked or pretended to talk from France. She was in California in those days, working day and night over on the story of a celebrity who was allegedly involved in human trafficking.

“I wish you were here,” her father had said quietly.

Kate was alarmed for a moment, James Vandenberg was kind, but he was not very expressive of his emotions.

“Is France not treating you well?” Kate had joked, “Or are you after a dead end?”

“Sometimes you pray there is nothing more, sometimes you actually wish there was a dead-end to things,” James had said in a tone which alarmed Kate. Her father had never spoken like that.

“Dad? Is everything alright?’

“Yeah, listen, I have to go, the conference is starting in 10 minutes, okay. I’ll call you again.” 

Now almost after eight months after that conversation, Kate could see it in a whole different light. He was definitely in search of something. What was he possibly working on?” She had thought. Something struck Kate’s mind, and she picked up the intercom, “Marian?” she spoke with purpose.

“Come inside, please.”

*****

John clicked over the folder, and the memories rushed back. Inside, hundreds of subfolders carried all the information he had retrieved for James when they worked together. Last night at the bar, John and Jack had concluded that James was going into the core of some dangerous things. However, they had no clue what they were. So, here was John opening the old files, hoping something would strike up his mind as a lead.

He opened the first subfolder, which was filled with pictures. It came back to John. He had taken photographs of a suspect involved in a missing person’s case. James had told him to keep an eye and monitor his moments. “It was an odd order,” John had thought even then. He was more of an action guy, and James had used him adequately for his talents most of the time, but following someone without any significant purpose or search of information felt useless to John.

“Nothing is useless,” James had said then. “I can take any further bold steps to let anyone know what we are looking for. We just need to see where and to whom he leads us.” A few days afterward, John came to know that James was monitoring the person to retrieve his lost reporter’s whereabouts.

Two years ago, Mat Midfield had gone to Antarctica to make a documentary for the channel and disappeared in the snow land. His body was never found nor any of his last whereabouts; ever since then, James had started to dig deeper in people who went missing in the line of journalism. John could see the guilt on James’ face when he talked about him. “He is gone because of me,” James would say, utterly helpless.

John thought he wanted to know what had happened to Mat, but before they could reach any conclusion, James had pulled the plug off. Then it hit him, “The men in black!” He had seen them! With a jolt, John straightened, and his eyes became wide. He remembered this person he was following, meeting some people who matched the description Miss Marian gave him.

John’s fingers were typing fast. He searched the folder, and there he got it. He had pictures of them. Finally, something was making sense, “James was still working on the missing reporter’s case? And these people, they are connected to it?” It was one hell of a moment of revelation. “I got to know exactly who these people are and what James was trying to do, working on a dead or missing reporter’s stale case even after years of his disappearance, and what does it have to do with these guys?” He mumbled as he looked at the screen.

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