Chapter 3 #2
Danylo Kovalenko was a thirty-year-old Ukrainian journalist and war correspondent turned documentary filmmaker from Kyiv.
He was one of the main forces sharing real-time on-the-ground images and reports of what was happening in the current conflict.
His latest documentary The Situation is Still Developing, had won numerous awards, and been banned in several countries for showing a reality that countered their government’s narrative.
His success was in large part due to his ability to talk to people—to find something in common with everyone he met and to use that common ground as a basis for deep conversation and incredible honesty.
After some debate, he was eliminated, his pale green-sparkle-framed image removed from the board.
Given that his focus was, and would continue to be, on reporting on the current conflict and it would be unfair to pull him away from that meaningful work.
Nikolett tried to say he could just come back for a quick ceremony and then leave again, but everyone hated that idea.
Apparently if she was going to have partners in name only, they would have an entirely different list.
Katarina Vukovi? (purple sparkly paper) was the youngest female executive director at the National Bank of Serbia.
An Oxford-educated economist, she began her career managing risk portfolios for Deutsche Bank before returning home to Serbia to modernize financial regulation and champion digital banking after nearly twenty years abroad.
While attending Oxford, she’d represented Serbia in both the world championships and the Olympics as a fencer, and apparently was combat-level good with several bladed weapons.
Nikolett rubbed her temples. “We have no idea who’s attacking me, so there’s very little opportunity to stab them with a sword.”
“The point is she could,” Nyx countered.
Anca Ionescu was a Romanian information broker who started her career in wealth management for an investment firm.
Zoran had dug up several private memos from a rival wealth management company that described her as a chameleon.
She could become whomever she needed to be in order to gain the trust of the person she was working with.
No longer employed by a firm, she selectively took jobs that appealed to her as an independent contractor, and those jobs ranged from acting as a fixer to high-risk financial strategy execution.
“Anca enjoys mountain trekking, gourmet cooking, and restoring traditional Romanian farmhouses,” Elena finished.
They all looked at her.
Elena tucked her hair behind her ear, murmuring, “She was profiled in a magazine.”
The final two were Márton Bálint—eliminated as he was a legacy whose parents had been suspiciously quiet after Petro’s death and the leadership changeover—and Laszlo Petrescu.
Laszlo was a wildlife conservationist working in the Eastern Carpathian Mountains. While admirable, his incredible knowledge of the topography of the region was what had put him on this list. He had led both strike teams and refugee groups through the mountains.
“If you need to go off the grid and hide, he’s the one who could do it,” Grigoris said.
“I can’t disappear,” Nikolett countered. “I need to be here.”
“You hiding for several months and communicating with us electronically via a secure relay is better for the territory than you dead,” Grigoris countered.
Everyone nodded.
Nikolett swallowed the urge to argue. They were right. It was her pride and stubbornness that made her want to refuse to be run out of town by an unseen enemy.
Though if she were totally honest, hiding for a while sounded rather nice. But when she pictured being safe, hiding, she imagined a stone fortress on the edge of a cliff, not a cozy cabin in the Carpathian Mountains.
“How do we decide?” Oksana asked, studying the board. She went still, then turned in her chair to face Nikolett. “I’m sorry, Admiral. It’s your decision, not a collective one.”
“No.” Nikolett shook her head. “I, we, asked you to be a part of this because it is a strategic decision, as all trinity marriages are. The fact that I can choose my own doesn’t mean my marriage should be a love match.”
Oksana nodded, but still looked uncomfortable.
Elena looked at Maxim, then quickly away. A second later, he looked at her, turning away a second before she snuck another glance at him.
Nikolett glanced at Nyx, who was leaning forward like a bird of prey, watching Elena and Maxim. Ha! She wasn’t the only one who noticed there was something there.
“We’ve eliminated two.” Iacob tapped the hilt of his knife on the table twice. “Narrowed it down to six. Maybe five. We need to be sure where Fedora’s loyalties lie. Admiral, have you met any of them?”
“No.”
“What about my date idea?” Elena said. “Like on the show?”
“Security issues.” Grigoris shook his head. “Yes, obviously the admiral will need and want to talk to them, but six, even five, in-person meetings is too many. Too much risk.”
“So she doesn’t meet with all five in person,” Oksana said.
“Video interviews?” Zoran raised a brow.
“I’ll need to talk to them one way or another,” Nikolett said slowly. “We could be honest and tell them we’re forming trinities and want to get to know them better. I just won’t mention that I’m one of the potential spouses.”
“Is that how it’s normally done?” Oksana asked with interest.
Nyx shook her head, a hunted look in her eyes and the scar on her face more apparent as her expression tightened.
“No. Members were summoned—by hard copy message that arrived via courier. It informed you that you were getting married and when to show up. You met your trinity when you arrived at the admiral’s house. ”
Oksana glanced at Grigoris, clearly ready to ask something about their marriage, but Elena caught Oksana’s eye and shook her head once while widening her eyes.
Nyx wasn’t talking about her marriage to Grigoris, but her first marriage.
The way she’d ended up with Grigoris had been unorthodox and dramatic—so of course Eric was involved.
There was an awkward silence before Nikolett cleared her throat. “Thank you all for putting in the work to generate this list and gather information. I appreciate it.”
“And it’s cute,” Maxim said, pointing at the colorful board dotted with magnets.
Elena froze, then flushed with embarrassment. Nikolett seriously considered kicking Maxim who looked stricken as Elena started dismantling the board.
“Leave it,” Nikolett said. “I want to be able to see it for reference. It’s a perfect visual.”
Iacob had swiveled to face Maxim, his back to Elena. He pointed at Maxim with the knife, then at his own head, as if asking what was wrong with Maxim’s brain. Good. Someone else was dealing with that so she didn’t have to kick him.
Nikolett carefully lowered her leg from the stool it had been propped on and wheeled her chair to the corner to grab her crutches.
Once on her feet, she thanked everyone in the room individually before heading for the elevator.
It had seemed ridiculous to put in an elevator, and she’d only agreed when discussion of moving heavy server towers into the upstairs backup server room was discussed.
Without the elevator, she would have either had to turn one of the downstairs “public” rooms into a temporary bedroom or have someone carry her up and down. Both sounded horrible, so she gladly rode the elevator. But the elevator was slow. Much slower than taking the stairs.
When the door opened, Nyx was standing there.
“That’s rude,” Nikolett said as she made her way out of the elevator.
“What is?”
“Showing off your ability to climb stairs.”
“How else was I going to ambush you?”
Nikolett paused, eyeing her friend. “What if you just…didn’t ambush me?”
Nyx snorted in amusement, as if that were the stupidest thing she’d ever heard, and followed Nikolett.
Nikolett had originally planned to go to her office and get some work done—more reports had come in from an issue they were having in Moldova, and she needed to read them.
But her leg hurt, she was tired, and that meeting to discuss her future trinity had left a sick, slimy feeling in her stomach.
She headed for the small lounge room at the far end of the hall. “Nyx, I need some alone time.”
“Admiral, are you ordering me, your vice admiral, to leave you alone?”
Nikolett resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes. Go away.”
Nyx stopped walking, and Nikolett carried on, faster on her crutches than she had been, thanks to both experience and the lighter cast.
Light, quick footsteps sounded behind her, and a second later, Nyx was back at her side.
Nikolett sighed. “So when I give an order…”
“That was admiral to vice admiral. This is me, your very best friend, coming to be with you because I know you need to talk.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. And I have wine.” Nyx held up the bottle she must have had behind her back.
“And what is it you think we need to talk about?”
Nyx slipped ahead and opened the door to the lounge. “Eric.” Nyx wiggled the bottle of wine. “We’re going to talk about Eric.”
“Ready to try again?”
“No. Also, fuck you.”
Dr. Mata waited patiently, no judgment in his expression.
Eric leaned back in the spindly chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. They were in a room that had last been used in eighteen something when furniture was small and uncomfortable.
The chair creaked ominously when he leaned back.
He felt raw and tender like the time he’d sustained second-degree burns in a conflict in Southeast Asia. When he took the job, he’d half hoped it would kill him. Sadly, all it did was leave him with painful burns for several months.
The distraction that kept him sane during his recovery had been a couple of curious Irish teenagers. One outgoing, one awkward.