The next two days passed as uneventful as usual, which reinforced my suspicion, that Jonas‘ abduction was more likely about himself, than about me.

Until now, all investigations in DC remained fruitless, as none of my Heads reported anything out of the ordinary. The big Friday delivery was approaching fast, which forced me to divert my focus back to business.

While it was annoying that I now had to find another method to sell my paintings, it was still financially tolerable.

Dressed in my well-used painting overall, I found myself in the light flooded studio that took up almost all the first floor space of my house. As a single person, I didn’t need all that many rooms, so I filled all the empty space with what I was passionate about. Natural light was ideal for creating art, therefore three of four walls of the room were window facades. Only the wall connecting the annexed atelier to the rest of the house was built from stone.

Enveloped in the familiar smells of solvents and oil paints, I stood in front of my newest work, analyzing it with crossed arms. The idea for the artwork came to me two weeks ago, during my trip to Hong Kong. I was at a fish market, talking to a business partner, when the motive suddenly manifested right in front of my eyes. I was eager to start sketching right away. A feeling I knew all too well from the other paintings I had created. It seemed as if the art had a will of its own and the desire to be put on canvas. The urge to paint only eased, once the painting was completed and met all of my expectations.

The only thing discernable at the moment, was the silhouette of a sinking city. It didn’t resemble Hong Kong. Instead, it looked almost alien. Nevertheless, I was convinced that this image was somehow inseperably connected to the Asian island.

I admired the harsh lines that built the characteristic features of that place. Just when I was reaching for the paint brush to add a new layer of colour, my phone started buzzing. Quickly, I cleaned my hands on a piece of cloth and answered the call.

„Judith?“, I asked, after a short glance at the display. My assistant knew how much I appreciate time to draw for myself, so she shouldn't call me for something insignificant. She was well cabaple of handling many situations by herself and had proven invaluable to me until today. For professional and personal reasons.

„Mr. Zambrana? Our systems gave out a stage three safety alarm just now. Seems like someone is stubbornly trying to find information about you.“

„Me, personally?“

„I’m afraid that’s most likely. The reports in front of me state, that they were looking for the artist behind Mr. Krewood. Our tracking device was also mentioned. How should we proceed?“

So, it turned out that Jonas‘ abduction wasn’t all a coincidence. But why had he been targeted? There were better ways to gain information about me. One of those people was the very person I was talking to.

Well, if someone was actually trying to cause me trouble that way, I already knew how to retaliate. „Lock the systems. Separate all members, the Heads will switch over to solitary work immediately. I don’t want to take any risks.“

„I’ll be in the office in about thirty minutes. Please draw up an overview of all suspicious activity until I arrive.“ I hang up and rushed through the studio into the main building. My bedroom was on the second floor of the small villa I was currently calling my home. People as wealthy as me were used to show off the fact that they were made of money. While I was also part oft hat world, this place was simply another accumulation of things that didn’t mean much to me.

In my changing room I switched from the overall to a tailored suit and quickly checked myself in the mirror. Looking well groomed was important to me, which was why I had to make sure I wasn’t leaving the house with paint stainigs in my hair and face. Since I couldn’t make out any colorful spots in my short black hair or anywhere else, I put on a pair of Italian designer slippers that matched my suit and left the estate.

In the underground garage, my black Kawasaki was waiting for me. I didn’t like driving cars, so the bike was the only thing waiting for me in the otherwise empty space. Even though we had already put quite some kilometers behind us, her condition was flawless. Slowly, I ascended the ramp towards ground level. As the light sensor registered the movement, a gate, that was embedded into the lawn, slid open.

I accelerated out of the parking garage. Pieces of gravel splattered into all directions as I was approaching the tall brass gate that seperated my property from the public street. With the push of a button set into the handlebars, the gate opened and I pulled into the street that led towards the city center.