Chapter 27
In the Quiet, a Pact
New-Denmark, September 2027
After her talk with Durepos, one thing became cristal clear in her mind. She needed help. Soham called Jan just after sunset, her voice steady but laced with urgency. She didn’t waste words.
—“We need to talk. In person. Auction Café. One hour.” Jan didn’t ask questions. He simply said, “Okay,” and hung up.
They sat in the back of a small café near Bluebell, tucked into a worn booth. The hum of an old fridge filled the silence. Outside, rain tapped steadily against the window. Soham stirred her coffee without drinking.
— “My father didn’t die naturally,” she said at last. “Someone did something to him.”
Jan looked up. Quiet. Focused.
— “Dubreuil, the coroner, found something. A synthetic fragment. Buried in his frontal lobe. No one could explain it. No one wanted to. But I saw the scans. It wasn’t there six months earlier.”
Jan’s brow tightened.
— “You think it was implanted?”
— “I don’t know how. But it wasn’t natural. And it wasn’t an accident.”
She took a breath.
— “Since I got back, everything’s started making sense. CropF’s everywhere. In the soil. In the irrigation systems. Inside council decisions. I spoke to Durepos—used to sit on the town board. He told me about Loring. What’s buried under the base. Bio-labs. Nano-assembly. Restricted access. Only contractors. Will Follow’s been there. Multiple times.”
Jan narrowed his eyes.
— “The mayor?”
— “That’s what I said. And it’s just the start. There’s a whistleblower—Virginia, State Department. She saw nanotech tests on prisoners. Then she disappeared.”
Jan leaned back, arms folded.
— “You’re getting too close. That’s why they’re watching you.”
— “That’s why I need help.”
He didn’t answer right away. She leaned in, her voice lower.
— “I’ve chased down the mafia. Corrupt politicians. Back when I was at the Times. But I had a team. Editors. Lawyers. Now it’s just me. And if I keep going alone, I’ll get crushed.”
Jan watched her. She kept going.
— “I’m not asking for a hero. Just someone who knows how this works. Who can see in the dark.”
Silence.
Then Jan looked out the window, then back at her.
— “I left that job because it broke me. But this…”
He gave a small nod.
— “This is different.”
She held his gaze.
— “So?”
He nodded again.
— “Alright. We dig. But my way. Quiet. Careful. If things go sideways, we vanish before they catch up.”
Soham allowed herself a faint smile.
— “Deal.”
They sat there, listening to the rain thicken. Two scarred lives. Two clear minds. One cause.
After a while, Jan spoke again, almost to himself.
— “There might be someone.”
Soham turned.
— “Who?”
— “Guy named Josh Barnes. We crossed paths back when I worked homicide in Montreal. Quiet type. Smart. He was stationed at Loring around 2010. We worked a case together—missing military personnel. Never got clear answers.”
— “You think he’s still there?”
— “No idea. But if he’s out, maybe he’ll talk. Especially if he saw what you’re describing.”
He pulled a small notebook from his coat, scribbled a few lines.
— “I might be able to track him down. My uncle still knows people in military security.”
Soham nodded.
— “Let’s follow your lead.”
Jan shut the notebook, already connecting dots.
— “Then let’s get started.”
They sat quietly. The rain tapped harder against the windows.
And then, something shifted.
Soham looked down at her empty cup, letting the silence settle. Something inside her had eased — not joy, that was too distant — but a deep relief, almost painful. Since Basil died, she’d been fighting alone. Against silence, fear, and indifference. Now someone was saying: I’m here. Not a childhood friend. Not a newsroom ally. A man fractured by his past, choosing to stay anyway.
She looked up and met his eyes.
No need for words. Just a nod.
And in that gesture, she felt it for the first time in a long while — she wasn’t alone anymore.
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