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2024-09-18 18:30:47Leila Weinrich took an academic break from her studies in Oxford. She run out of money, and had to take online tutoring job to resume her course and get to her final exams. Both her parents were strongly against Leila taking an academic break, willing to support her as long as it was necessary. But Leila decided it was time for her to become independent. Her boyfriend, Tom, was taking it personally at the beginning, but eventually admitted they had temporary liquidity issues. Their cat Snoopy was pleased to have open books to sit on all day long. He especially enjoyed sitting on the work to be done urgently. The cat thought he was the boss and didn’t take it lightly when Leila unceremoniously moved his fluffy butt from her desk. It seemed like tutoring work and a break from study would put things back on track. It wasn’t as if Leila could have predicted what kind of ‘break’ she would have. It seemed highly unlikely it would involve dealing with sleepy dogs and disappearing corpses. Thoughts of her work, her studies and the final exams looming pushed the melancholy aside. Leila carefully shifted Wolfie from her lap and got up from the hardwood floor.
She gently placed the dog’s head on the Iranian rug with barely visible pattern. The dog didn’t wake up. Wolfie was busy chasing squirrels in her asleep, flinching her paws now and again and producing funny noises.
Leila Weinrich couldn’t think clearly for a long few moments. There was a confused, vivid memory of a dead body in her aunt’s drawing room, and a confused sight of a mess created for no good reason. She shrugged and moved her tiny shoulders back and swept a slow look around the room, as if she didn’t see it before. But nothing changed. Then she went out past the young, sleepy husky, pondering over a peculiar thought - her mind seemed to play funny tricks with her. She couldn’t remember having anything stronger than water and tea, but it still felt like there was a dead body in the drawing room behind the chest of drawers.
“It can’t be!” Leila murmured to herself. The reality slowly dawned on her: she better piece together what happened since she arrived at her aunt’s place. Aunt Christina was stuck in a hospital for another week. A Math Professor, Christina had been an enigma in the Weinrich clan. Some said that she left Vienna and went off to teach schoolchildren in a remote village because of some personal drama. There were gossips floating around. Leila didn’t like gossips and wasn’t that interested in personal dramas of her relatives. She was just fond of aunt Christina. A few days ago Leila called Christina, ashamed that she had forgotten her aunt’s birthday. It turned out Christina was admitted to hospital.
‘I was run over by a car, busted my leg!’ Christina said.
Alarmed, Leila hightailed it to the hospital.
Christina looked so-so. Her glorious blonde hair in a tight knot and her usually vibrant dark eyes half-closed. Surgery was scheduled for the next day; the fracture was serious. Christina’s spirits were so low that Leila began to worry.
‘Christina, darling,’ she said, ‘There’s nothing to fear - the fracture will heal in no time. Cheer up, girl!’
‘I am not worried about the fracture,’ Christina muttered, ‘I got a problem, Leila.’
‘What problem? My students are on half-term break, I can take care of it!’ Leila promised.
The problem was called Wolfie - a whopping thirty five kilos of a husky. The dog was two years old and had too gentle a nature for sled-dogging. Wolfie was getting harassed by her rowdier siblings until Christina adopted her. Now she had grown into a massive, furry and lovable creature.
All was great before the icy mountain road brought trouble. Christina was walking the dog when an out-of-control car spun in her way. The doctors said she was lucky to have walked away with minor injuries. But Christina was concerned about Wolfie. She got in touch with Gerard, one of her former students. He was studying in Zurich, but kindly agreed to feed Wolfie and take her for a walk once a day.
Christina’s voice was begging as she spoke to Leila.
‘Wolfie is very sensitive. She had never spent a night alone in the chalet. She would cry her heart out. And I’m stuck here for five days, maybe more. Leila, dear, what do you think?’
Leila’s mind was on her academic work, missing her boyfriend who had gone to New York, and the antics of Snoopy the cat. But then there was Wolfie, wailing in pain and destroying Christina’s silk cushions. And how about the neighbors? Christina seemed to guess Leila’s thoughts.
‘My place is very remote,’ she said, ‘the nice French couple next door won’t be around until March. There is an English guy, Dick Jones. He is always around. But I would rather avoid talking to him.’
‘Ok,’ Leila reassured her aunt. Tom being away made it easier - now she just had to find someone for Snoopy.
‘Don’t worry,’ Leila said softly, ‘I’ll take care of Wolfie. Tom’s gone, my students are having a break, and I know someone who can be trusted with Snoopy.’
The cat issue was resolved almost instantly. Snoopy and Leila’s mom clicked right away, as if they were cut from the same cloth. It didn’t take long for Leila’s mum to get all excited about spending a week in Snoopy’s company. Leila figured that their similar personalities had a lot to do with it. Relieved, she took her ginger thief over to her parents’ house, and arranged for her mom to send a stack of textbooks to Christina’s chalet. Leila Weinrich oiled her cross country skis and booked a train ticket for the same day.
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After forty minutes journey, the train screeched to a halt, and Leila hopped off into the powdery snow, white and pristine as a starched sheet. The childish sense of freedom got the better of her. She put the skis on and ran towards the village, picking up pace, squinting at the blinding sun. Her joy was infectious. It spread all around her, through the old pine trees and over the hills, to the passers by and animals that lived in the mountains. Leila felt free, young and agile. She could ski like this for thousand kilometers, far beyond the sleepy village in front of her. It had been two long winters since she’d hit the slopes. Getting into Oxford didn’t leave much time for skiing. It had not been an easy journey, especially for her, a German speaker taking on the entrance exam and an interview. But Leila prevailed, and was offered a place at New College. Now she was determined to get her First. Leila’s childish excitement of seeing snow suddenly evaporated. She found herself standin
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 4
Tom sent Leila a last-minute text from the bustling streets of New York, on his way to a job interview. She replied with a quick message of luck, but conveniently left out any mention of her adventures. Leila couldn’t deny it any longer - her daydreaming version of events simply didn’t add up. The truth was staring her in the face like a dead body in a drawing room. And as she pondered how to break the news to Tom, she couldn’t help but think that sometimes ignorance is a bliss.But of course, as fate would have it, Wolfie had to ruin that little bubble of denial. When Leila walked the fluffy pooch up to the unlocked door, she suddenly turned into Cujo and let out an intimidating growl. Where was that aggression earlier? Must’ve slept through that bloody murder like a lazy bum.As Leila opened the door, she couldn’t ignore the trail of destruction outside. Someone had made quite the spectacle trying to ski after a blizzard - leaving behind blue potholes and scars for fifty meters. And
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 6
As they stepped outside, Wolfie started behaving even more strangely. Instead of heading home, she tugged at Leila’s leash and led her around the corner, where a stack of rotting wooden boards sat ominously. The dog’s hair stood up as she growled and bared her teeth.Leila couldn’t help but feel frightened. She was totally ready to bolt back to her aunt’s chalet and lock all the doors behind her. But curiosity got the best of her again and she stayed put, only to have Wolfie suddenly break free from her leash and run off towards the far end of the garden.What had spooked the usually fearless husky? Leila couldn’t say for sure. She let out a shrill cry, her voice echoing through the deserted alley. “Wolfie, come back here this instant, you disobedient mutt!” But the canine culprit had already disappeared into the yellow foliage, leaving Leila to navigate her way through the narrow gap and into the snow-cleared alleyway. And there, sitting innocently in the middle of it all, was Wolfie
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 7
Leila parked the snowmobile in the shed, her breath sharp and cold in the crisp air. Her cheeks were red and chapped from the icy wind, but she didn’t mind. Her trip to the village wasn’t a waste of time. Now she had something to work with.She unlocked the front door and walked straight past her bags, snatching up the dead man’s little black notebook. The first page was practically empty, save for two letters scrawled neatly in the top right corner: “B” and “E.” Leila frowned. Most people would assume they were initials, but the cryptic way the rest of the notebook was written made her doubt it. She pulled out her iPad and typed in a few guesses. If she was right, those letters weren’t “B” and “E” at all. They translated to something else entirely: E.Y.Eduard? Edgar? Erasmus? she mused, rolling the names around in her head. But no matter how many names she thought of, nothing clicked. Whoever this E.Y. was, he wasn’t making it easy.Leila settled onto Christina’s sofa with the noteb
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 8
Once the lecture was on break, Leila approached Dr. Sanchez, her eyes innocent, her steps hesitant.“Excuse me, Dr. Sanchez,” Leila said, her voice low, “do you know Professor Eduard Yellen personally?”Dr. Sanchez’s warm smile faded just a little, a flicker of concern crossing her face. “Of course. Why do you ask?”Leila didn’t hesitate any longer. “I found a black notebook with the same initials—E.Y. I think it might belong to him.”Dr. Sanchez’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? It could be one of the notebooks everyone’s been looking for. His notes—they went missing along with him. They’re of immense scientific value.”Leila shifted, pulling her phone from her bag and switching it off. She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me more.”Dr. Sanchez fished out her own phone, put it on silent, and then began to speak, her voice now cautious. “Yellen was an archaeologist—brilliant but eccentric. He specialized in ancient artifacts. A few days ago he vanished. Gone, w
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 9
The next morning, Leila walked back into the Grossman Center like she owned the place. She was wearing a navy suit that hugged her curves in all the right places, and the borrowed Chanel bag gave her a look of money and class—two things she was always happy to fake. Inside the bag, she carried the small, leather-bound notebook and a Montblanc pen, feeling like they were about to help her write her way into something big.She breezed past the room with the heraldic plaque—her family crest, still staring back at her like a ghost of bad news—and made her way to the receptionist. The brunette behind the desk glanced up, eyebrows rising, as if she could smell the trouble Leila had brought with her.“Hi, I’m Leila Weinrich. I’m here to see Mr. Grossman,” she said, flashing a smile that carried all the confidence of someone who had nothing to lose.The receptionist’s eyebrows hitched higher. “Do you have an appointment?”Leila leaned against the desk, letting her eyes lock with the brunette’
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 10
The ball was the last thing on her mind as Leila left the office. She’d just made a deal with a man who wore murder like an expensive suit, and now she had to figure out how to get out of it without ending up in a ditch somewhere.As she walked back down the dim corridor, her head spun. She didn’t plan on killing anyone. She just had to outsmart them. The Rulers might be powerful, but they weren’t the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.Leila climbed into her snowmobile, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. She’d just signed herself up for a deadly game, and her life—other than that—was perfectly normal. She needed to research her target, find out who this K.B. was, and figure out how to play the game without getting caught.But as she thought back to the encrypted notebook, a horrifying realization hit her. This wasn’t some academic journal—it was the diary of a hired killer. The Rulers had sent someone to murder her aunt Christina, and now they were asking Leila to do the same d
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 11
Leila stood in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair and trying on different faces like masks in Japanese theatre. She went for “amiable attention,” followed by “quiet confidence,” then “ready-for-anything,” and finally the smirk—“gotcha!” But none of them worked. She gave up, tossed the phone into her velvet Versace bag, and stepped out into the corridor.That’s when it hit her. The door across the hall was wide open, and there he stood—a man in a black tie, looking sharp enough to cut through glass, but there was something off about him. Familiar, too. His stance was casual, but you could tell he was trying too hard. He looked down at Leila—five-foot-nothing in heels—and flashed a grin that could sell ice in Siberia.It was Tom.Leila fought to keep her cool. He moved like a cat, gliding over to her with that silly grin still plastered on his face.“I’m the guest of honor,” he said, like he’d just announced he won the lottery.Leila’s smile didn’t falter. “Pretend we’ve just
Last Updated : 2024-09-18
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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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
