Chapter 3
New Year’s Eve came and went with no more fanfare than a clink of champagne as they watched Ryan Seacrest at the ball drop
in Times Square. The day after, Yumi came by for lunch. Graham was at the grocery store, and Aida was searching the web, trying
to find the best place for Graham to rent a tuxedo for the wedding.
“I think the MODA org is legit,” Yumi said when Aida opened the door.
Aida’s heart sped up, thinking about the ridiculous salary and all-expenses-paid palazzo. “It is?”
“I think so. Although there isn’t much information about the company and even less about the mysterious Lady Ozie. The problem
is that in the States, MODA isn’t a corporation but an LLC. And it seems that everything tied up with this LLC is in a trust,
so the owner is anonymous. But I was able to track down a few things.”
She set her bag on one of the empty kitchen barstools, pulled out her tablet, and flipped it on.
She touched a few points on the screen and then began reading.
“The MODA company’s headquarters are registered in Switzerland, which shouldn’t be surprising given the amount of money they seem to have.
From what I could tell, they don’t have an office there, but I verified the legitimacy of their London location, where MODA has been a tenant for the last ten years. The name on the lease is Ozie Momus.”
“Momus? Like that Scottish art musician you made me watch on YouTube?”
Yumi nodded. “The name is spelled the same, but I’m pretty sure there’s no connection.”
“Did you find anything out about this Ozie Momus?”
“No. There isn’t anyone with a name like that. I looked everywhere. All the search engines, Facebook, LinkedIn, and I dug
deep into the dark web, but Ozie Momus doesn’t seem to be a person’s name—real or imaginary.”
“How could they have their name on the lease if they aren’t real? Wouldn’t there need to be credit checks and the like?”
“I’m not sure how British property laws work, but I guess that’s true. They don’t sell anything from the space, so perhaps
it functions like a residence? Also, if this person has the money they seem to have, then perhaps there could be a convenient
arrangement of looking the other way. I don’t know.”
“What about the South African guy who worked for them?”
“Ahh, Johannes Khumalo. Now that’s where we start to get somewhere. He was a native of South Africa. He graduated with top
honors from Sapienza University of Rome before returning to teach at the University of Pretoria. He wasn’t there long, only
three years before MODA snapped him up. I asked one of my hacker friends to dig into the South African Revenue Service . . .”
Aida gasped. “Wait, you had someone hack into that?”
Yumi laughed at her discomfort. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t the one who did it! And he owed me a favor.”
“I don’t want to know why he owed you a favor, do I?”
“Probably not,” Yumi said with a wink. “But, you know, it’s not exactly the kind of favor you’d ask your neighbor to do.
The hacker community is a close-knit network, and while not everything we do is strictly lawful, it’s not all malicious either.
There’s a lot of gray area. Some of us work in cybersecurity, helping companies protect themselves.
Others, well . . . they tread a bit closer to the line.
And yes, most of us are anonymous to each other.
We use pseudonyms, encrypted channels, all that jazz. It’s safer that way.”
Aida’s eyes widened. “So, you’re saying this whole thing is . . . illegal?”
Yumi shrugged, a little more serious now. “Technically, yeah. It’s a gray area we operate in. But honestly, I didn’t think
much about it at first. Most of us are just people trying to do what we’re good at. Sometimes that means bending the rules . . .
or breaking them.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“It’s not about being okay with it—it’s about knowing the risks. Most of the time, we’re just solving problems, but sometimes
those problems cross legal lines. I’ve built up trust in this community over the years. That’s how I got this favor.”
Aida shook her head in disbelief. “So, you’ve got a whole network of people who do this, and none of you really know each
other?”
“Pretty much,” Yumi said. “It’s a different world, Aida. One where you’re judged by your skills, not your identity.” She turned
back to her laptop. “Anyway, my friend was able to find records of him working for MODA with the same salary they are offering
you. Or at least it’s close. Six million rand in South Africa is around four hundred thousand in our dollars. He worked for
them for four years, just like they told you. It’s really sad though . . .”
“What do you mean, sad?”
“I found his obituary. He was almost our age—thirty-three. So young to have a heart attack.”
“Ugh. The poor guy.”
Yumi turned off her tablet. “But it means the job is legit. They told you how he died, and that checks out. They paid him what they said they would pay you, and of course Felix verified him working there as well.”
“Oh, to work with Felix would be so fun.”
“I hate the idea of you not being here, and I know Graham will miss the hell out of you, but I think you should take it,”
Yumi said.
“I was thinking I would,” Aida admitted as she poured her friend a glass of wine. “You really think it’s a good idea?”
“Hell, when will you ever get a chance like this again? This will set you and Graham up for a new life together.”
Aida raised her glass. “To my best friend, my personal therapist, and the person I trust most in the world.”
Yumi raised up hers. “To my best friend, my therapy client, and the person I trust most in the world.”
They clinked glasses with a grin and drank.
“One more,” Aida said impulsively, raising the glass again. “To happiness.”
Yumi agreed wholeheartedly. “To happiness. We deserve it.”
That afternoon, Aida gave Erin the sanctioned spiel from MODA—that she would be researching Italian antiquities, though she
didn’t know many details yet. She had faith in Erin, but after not truly knowing her for the last ten years, Aida thought
it best to stick to the NDA she had signed. Yumi was her most trusted friend—even above Graham in some ways—and had come with
her to the hotel, so she got a pass.
“I think I’m going to take the job. What do you think?”
“Oh my god, Aida! Rome? That’s incredible! Yes, you have to take it. You’re going to have the time of your life. Italian antiquities?
That’s literally the dream!” The excitement radiated off her. “You’re going to be living in a palazzo, drinking wine, and
uncovering secrets of the past. This is fan-fucking-tastic!”
Aida smiled, her own excitement swelling in response to Erin’s enthusiasm. “I know, right? It’s definitely a chance of a lifetime.”
Erin leaned forward, grabbing Aida’s hands. “I’m so happy for you. This is exactly what you need—a chance to begin again.”
“I feel bad that you’ve just moved back and I’m leaving.”
Erin smirked and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is amazing! Plus, you’ll get to explore all those places we used
to dream about when we were kids. I mean, the Colosseum! The Pantheon! The food! You’re so lucky. You better send me pictures
every day. Seriously. I want to live vicariously through you.”
That night, Aida sat at her desk, staring out the window at the lightly falling snow. Graham had gone to the wine store for
what he called “supplies,” and the house was silent save for the occasional salt truck going by to keep the roads clear. Staring
at the open pdf on her screen, ready for her electronic signature, her heart twisted with indecision. She had read through
the contract at least ten times, careful to make sure she wasn’t committing herself to MODA for more than the initial three
months.
Her phone dinged, and she picked it up to see a text from Erin with a GIF of someone standing in front of the Colosseum, taking
a picture of the ancient arches against the golden light of the setting sun. Erin’s message read, This will be you soon!
Aida grinned, then turned back to the contract.
“You’re right. That will be me soon,” she said aloud as she typed her name into the signature field, then without any more
hesitation, she hit Send.
The week flew by in a flurry of packing and preparations. Before Aida knew it, the morning of her departure had arrived. She
stepped out of the apartment, the crisp January air nipping at her cheeks. A taxi idled by the curb, its exhaust forming misty
clouds in the stillness of the early hour.
Graham emerged behind her with her carry-on. “Are you sure you didn’t pack bricks in this thing?” he joked, setting it down
next to her other suitcases.
Aida was about to retort when she heard Yumi’s cheerful voice. “There’s our jet-setter!” Yumi bounded up the sidewalk, her breath visible in the cold air, Erin at her side.
Aida felt a wave of warmth despite the chill. It had been Erin’s idea for them all to see her off, and having her three favorite
people here, supporting her, made her heart swell.
“Perfect timing,” Graham said, nodding toward the taxi cab.
“Well, this is it,” Aida said. Her stomach was doing backflips—the familiar anxiety she sometimes had before she traveled.
“I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”
Graham hugged her tight. “Trust me, I’ll notice.” He kissed her temple, the warmth of his lips lingering in the cold. “Don’t
forget to call me when you land.”
“I won’t,” Aida promised. She glanced over at Yumi, who was practically bouncing on her heels.
She grinned and clapped her hands together. “Oh man, you’re going to have the best time! Don’t forget to send me pictures
of that palazzo. I want a full virtual tour, all right?”
Aida laughed. “You know I will. You’ll be getting pictures of everything.”
“Are you sure you’re okay leaving all the wedding planning to Graham?” Erin asked, glancing at him with a playful skepticism.
Graham raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I can handle this,” he said with mock offense.
“Seriously, let me help. It would give me something to do,” she said.
Aida waved her hand in a sign of approval. “Hey, if you want to give Graham a hand, I’m sure neither of us would say no. But
I’ll have plenty of input from Italy.”
“Well, I’ll help streamline things. Having a woman’s touch for things like the invitations and the cake will be good.”
Graham chuckled. “Erin, don’t say that unless you mean it. You have no idea what I’m about to unleash on you.”
“I’m ready,” Erin shot back with a grin.
The taxi driver honked lightly, signaling they were out of time for farewells. Yumi pushed off the steps and walked over to hug Aida. “Go kick some ass over there, okay?”
“I will,” Aida said, hugging her back tightly.
Graham helped her with the suitcase, lifting it into the back of the taxi before turning to face her one last time. “Stay
safe,” he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Aida replied, feeling the moment’s weight settle in her chest. They kissed one more time, and then she forced
herself to step back, opening the door to the taxi.
She waved one last time to her friends, trying to absorb the sight of them before she climbed in. And then she was off, wondering
what sort of wild adventure she was rushing toward.