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The Secret Whisperer
Last Updated : 2025-01-30
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Leila, a young Austrian aristocrat and student in Classics, is drawn into a world of conspiracy and danger when her aunt is involved in a suspicious car accident. Leila travels to her aunt’s chalet to take care of her husky, but soon discovers a body in the drawing room. Terrified, she runs out and bumps into Dick, a nosy English banker who becomes entangled in the mystery. When they return to the drawing room, the body has disappeared. Leila takes the husky for a walk and discovers that the body has been moved to a house recently purchased by another branch of her family. She finds a notebook with encrypted entries in the drawing room and uses her linguistic skills to decode them. She discovers the initials, address, and phone number of someone involved in the plot. Leila calls the number and is warned against getting involved. Undeterred, she discovers a bizarre research center where a conference on German mystical past is taking place.She suspects that there is a bizarre cult operating underground. Leila learns about their plan to topple every democracy in Europe. The cult is after an artifact that may be hidden in her aunt’s chalet. However, this is only the tip of the iceberg. Leila discovers that the aristocratic cult members are pawns in a larger game. They are unknowingly being manipulated to cause disruption in the European banking system using an AI virus.The chaos will cause turmoil in the Euro zone. As Leila and her aunt race against time to stop the virus from being unleashed, they uncover an even more shocking truth: Leila’s own family members are part of the conspiracy. With betrayal and danger at every turn, Leila must use all of her wit to outsmart the cult.
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The Secret Whisperer 23
Leila pulled up to Christina’s hideaway, the car’s headlights slicing through the frostbitten gloom. The house sat hunched against the snow, a dark silhouette of pine and cold secrets. She’d driven fast—too fast for the icy roads—but when your aunt called with that tone, you didn’t stop to admire the scenery.Inside, the room was a furnace. The black iron stove glowed like it was working overtime, and the wood stacked high in the corner promised it wasn’t getting a break anytime soon. Christina was in her usual spot, a blanket over her knees, looking like the queen of a tiny, crumbling empire. Her eyes, though, were sharp and on point, pinning Leila like a hawk spotting prey.“Lock the door,” Christina said. No hello, no pleasantries.Leila did as she was told, the click of the deadbolt echoing louder than it should. “What’s going on?” she asked, pulling off her gloves. She kept her tone light, but her gut was doing flips.Christina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled a smal
Last Updated : 2025-01-30The Secret Whisperer 21
But Leila was waiting for him in wane, as Tom was immediately got distracted. His boss decided to pay an unexpected visit. The winter sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the tinted windows of Tom’s high-tech office when Mikhail Grossman decided to darken the door. The man loomed like a storm cloud in an Armani suit, his scowl deep enough to hide a weapon.“Evening, Mikhail,” Tom said with the ease of a man greeting an old friend rather than a mafia boss who snaps necks like breadsticks. He wondered whether Mikhail Grossman heard the news about Vlad. Tom leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”“Cut the pleasantries, Tomas,” Grossman growled. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that preceded an earthquake. “You know why I’m here. The Green Dragon virus—you’re going to hand it over. Now.”Tom chuckled and tapped his fingers on the scratched surface of his desk, where beneath lay layers of encrypted firewalls
Last Updated : 2025-01-29The Secret Whisperer 21
A tiny, no larger than a pack of cigarettes, combat drone silently fell off the roof two floors above the office where Vlad Voronin was glued to the computer screen. It smoothly descended to his window, peeked out stealthily from behind the wall and froze in the upper left corner. The cameras adjusted the focus to Vlad’s stand-alone laptop. The camera was filming the program commands running in a fast line on a black background.The owner of the computer had no idea about all that. He was busy with the guest. Smiling snottily, Voronin pulled the flash drive out of the laptop and put it inside a small brown envelope.‘That’s perfect,’ he patted his guest on the shoulder.‘I have to return it,’ the guest muttered nervously stretching out his hand. ‘My share, as agreed?’‘Don’t worry,’ Voronin frowned. ‘Assume that you don’t owe us anything anymore. '‘Fine. You have to give me a receipt. For the records.’‘OK,OK. You’ve become too suspicious, Ash,’ Vlad pulled out a four-fold piece of p
Last Updated : 2025-01-29The Secret Whisperer 20
Leila slipped into Tom’s car, slamming the door a little harder than she intended. The cold outside had followed her in, clinging to her like a bad mood. Tom turned to Leila, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the heater dial. His sharp suit looked a little rumpled, which for him was akin to disheveled.“You didn’t freeze to death out there, did you?” he asked, his voice light, but his eyes checking up her face like he was scanning for damage.“Nope, still alive,” Leila said, tugging off her gloves. “But I’m starting to think that Christina’s place is more of a treasure chest than a house.”Tom raised an eyebrow. “Treasure chest? You planning to dig up the back garden next?”Leila leaned back, the seat warmer kicking in. “Something like that. You wouldn’t believe half of it if I told you.”“Try me,” Tom said, pulling onto the snowy road. His car was too clean, too new, a spaceship gliding over a frozen landscape. “I left work to be here, so you owe me something good.”Leil
Last Updated : 2025-01-29The Secret Whisperer 19
The Gatekeeper was as calm and unbothered as a man ordering a drink at a bar. “There’s another spy among us,” he said.The room reaction was not unlike a shot of cheap tequila—sharp, immediate, and nauseating. Twelve masked faces froze. No one moved, no one breathed. If paranoia had a sound, it would have been the faint rustle of fine fabric. You could feel the change in the air - suddenly heavy, toxic, like everyone had realized they were holding a hand grenade with no pin.Thronebearer was the first to speak. He always was. “Another spy,” he repeated, rolling the words around like a bad aftertaste. “How… disappointing.”His iron crown caught the light, casting jagged shadows across the scratched oak table. He tilted his head toward the Gatekeeper, his tone clipped. “Who?”The Gatekeeper didn’t answer right away. He liked his drama slow-cooked. Instead, he walked over to a side table, his every step measured. Beneath a red velvet cloth lay something nobody wanted to think about—a but
Last Updated : 2025-01-23The Secret Whisperer 18
Linda Stern arrived at the library just after seven, dressed for the lead role in The Clichéd Spy. She wore tight black jeans, a shapeless hooded jacket that might’ve been trendy in 1997, a black acrylic scarf was wrapped around her blonde head like she was about to rob a petrol station. The sunglasses would be a nice touch, but Linda reckoned that would be too Men in Black.The library door had a handwritten sign taped to it: “Closed for Technical Reasons.” That might as well have said, “Suspicious activity happening here—please sniff around with care.”Linda knocked anyway, her fist pounding the heavy wood like she was trying to wake the dead. When no one answered, she leaned on the buzzer with all the subtlety of a foghorn.The door creaked open just enough to reveal a small man with a potato-shaped nose, a face so pale it could’ve doubled as a flashlight, and ginger eyebrows that looked like they were glued on. He wore a black sweater turtleneck and black synthetic trousers that ha
Last Updated : 2025-01-21The Secret Whisperer 17
Tom’s message slid into her inbox like an invitation to regret: Move into my pod across the road. It’s safer, and I can stop worrying about you every five minutes. It was sweet, that “I know better” way Tom had, but Leila wasn’t buying it.She thumbed back a reply. I promised Christina I’d look after the house and Wolfie. No cults or homicidal archaeologists are changing my plans.A sad emoji pinged back. Tom wasn’t giving up, but work had him chained to the Grossman Center until his financial projections were in. He’d miss dinner; the Center was feeding his team.Disappointed but not deterred, Leila decided to clean up Tom’s new place. It was part guilt, part curiosity. She grabbed the spare key, the plastic kind that came with a polished wood veneer to make it look fancier than it was, and let herself in.The pod was pristine, the kind of clean that said either Tom had hired a housekeeper or he’d stopped living like a human being. The only mess in sight was her lipstick, perched smug
Last Updated : 2024-11-28The Secret Whisperer 16
As Leila strolled through the market square, her mind was tangled like a bowl of spaghetti, trying to link the stolen books and the murdered professor. The square was lively for the amount of snow and the temperature well below the freezing point. Vendors peddled their wares by spreading them on fleece blankets, their goods as ragged and random as the spirit of Christmas. Leila walked between the aisles, surrounded by old copper kettles, once fine German porcelain, toy trains, and oak plant stands trying hard not to look bored. One stall caught her eye—a pile of books, mostly battered children’s tales and lonely volumes of the classics not worth much without the rest of the lot. Some books looked interesting, bound in old tooled leather. Then something caught her eye. She spotted a volume in the middle of all that artful chaos. It was a thick, faded book with a tan leather binding. The title, The History and Artifacts of the Ancient Germanic Tribes, was elegantly crafted in gold lett
Last Updated : 2024-11-28The Secret Whisperer 15
The morning after smuggling her aunt Christina out of the hospital felt like the calm before a storm, the kind that sneaks up on you while you’re sitting in a deck chair, thinking everything’s fine until the wind knocks your Martini and soda off the table. Leila had slept about as well as a guilty conscience in a cheap motel. Now, sitting at the café, she waited for Linda Stern, the sharpest reporter on this side of the Alps.Linda breezed in like she owned the joint, her leather jacket creaking, sunglasses low on her nose despite the clouds outside. She was all business, but there was always that edge of mischief about her, like she was permanently one bad idea away from pulling a fast one. She slid into the chair across from Leila, didn’t even bother with the pleasantries.“So,” she said, her voice like whiskey poured over gravel. “What’ve you got for me this time, kid? And don’t tell me it’s a knitting club you want me to expose.”Leila smirked. “Knitting club? Try a cult, Linda. A
Last Updated : 2024-10-12
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Her aunt’s winter place was a nineteenth century Belle Epoque, dark brown with orange shutters, adorned with a round turret. The high snowdrifts on both sides of the porch were untouched for several days. Muddy corrugated icicles as thick as Leila’s arm dangerously dangled from the roof.‘I wish somebody would teach that beast to open the door,’ Leila Weinrich whispered with frustration.That was too much to ask of Wolfie. She was a smart dog, sure, but expecting her to be a porter on top of being cute? Not fair! Leila struggled with the shopping bags in one hand and the satchel filled with books dangling from her elbow. She searched her pockets and pulled out the key.She unlocked the front door and budged through the dusky hall that smelled of open fire. The antique set of German armor gleamed at her with fresh polish. She turned left into the narrow corridor, and pushed the door to the drawing room open. She was surprised the dog didn’t show up.‘Wolfie!’ Leila called out.The capr...
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