Sample chapter

Chapter 1

Spring 2023, day 1 Polykir, Café le Podvod

Lost in thought, Lado Vantaggio walked briskly along the large canal that separated downtown Polykir from the densely populated Borg neighbourhood. As he often did, he walked his daily five kilometres at a brisk pace. He looked forward to his morning coffee at café Le Podvod on Ribston Street. He suddenly realised he had missed his turn two hundred metres back, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head, he turned around and walked a little faster than usual toward the café.

The owner-barista greeted him enthusiastically and immediately began his work of preparing a double espresso for Lado. Lado mumbled something vague, but the barista seemed to understand, responding with an affirming hum. Lado sat down at his regular table, which was a bit on the small side, and pushed the other two chairs at the table back a bit so he could sit a little more easily. While he waited for his coffee, he listened to the latest part of the news broadcast by “Sopuli Radio” on the half hour. It was striking that during the news broadcast, the people present in the café – there were more than fifteen of them – were all listening intently.

 

‘Only part of the damage caused by the Peka River floods last year will be compensated. Of the €1.5 billion in damages filed by individuals, 45 percent will be compensated. The damage suffered by companies, a government spokesman told, will not be compensated. However, the government will make it easier for affected companies to take out loans for repairs under flexible terms. The government’s position is that flood risk is a business risk.’

 

‘FC Boldsurtak’s left winger, good for three goals and three assists last year, has been sold to Phare Madrid for the sum of €38.5 million. The general manager commented briefly that this is a nice boost for both the player, Leo Mall, and the club.’

 

The barista brought over Lado’s coffee and a half-full glass of water. As he set down the coffee and glass in front of Lado, he sighed deeply. “Those damages for companies don’t get compensated,” he grumbled. “I know at least four hospitality colleagues who have a lot of damage. They really won’t recover, you know.” With his shoulders slumped, he walked back to his shiny espresso machine, where he put new coffee in its holder.

 

‘And now over to Simone from the meteorological institute for the weather.‘ A fresh voice wished the listeners good morning and rattled off the weather forecast for the day and for the coming weekend at a brisk pace. ‘So I’d say head out, the weather won’t stop you.’

 

Lado furrowed his brow, thinking that since the events of a year and a half ago, he had not had many outings, although he was really up to it. At first he had wondered, full of self-pity, where things could have gone so wrong back then. Slautis had escaped a certain quiet coup by China. The newly formed political party, the DNP, of which he had been one of the initiators, was heading for a big win in the scheduled elections and would play a crucial role in forming a government.

However, due to a cunning infiltration, the party was under great influence of agents of China from the very beginning of its founding and without his realizing it.

Partly due to the intervention of the security forces, the elections were postponed and the silent coup could be prevented. Despite numerous investigations, it remained unclear whether all culprits had been apprehended and all infiltrated sectors uncovered.

Time and again, memories resurfaced, and Lado berated himself for missing the red flags. The money, the smooth settlement of all sorts of bureaucratic bumps and coincidences had been, in retrospect, undeniable.

 

It had been his wife Elise who had spent entire days talking to him and, as a last resort, had asked Lado to seek professional help. At first he had categorically refused, but later, when it dawned on him that his ideas had not actually been bad and that he himself was the victim, he had agreed.

 

The regular sessions Lado had had in recent months with Dr. Phill Duerf, a psychologist based in a landmark building on Harbet Quay, had done him good. He had realised, partly through those conversations, that through subtle manipulation on the part of Arnost, the infiltrator for China, he had come to believe more and more in the DNP, the political party he had founded with his friends. The direction they had taken had not been his choice, but he had not noticed that it was all directed. Dr. Duerf had been able to convince him that this had reflected nothing about him, but everything about the manipulative activities of the infiltrators.

 

Lado was startled out of his pondering when his mobile phone rang loudly. He looked at the display and saw that the number was not in his contacts. Suspiciously, he answered with: “Good morning.” His habit of answering calls with suspicion was a lingering remnant of the dark period he was trying to move past.

“Good morning, is this Mr. Vantaggio?” Without waiting for an answer, the voice continued. “You are speaking to Nikita Silnyslot of the Lidové Dnevnik. I was wondering if I might interview you. I am genuinely interested in how you are doing now and how you look back on the events of a year and a half ago.”

Lado stuttered a bit and the first thing he uttered intelligibly was, “Yes, you are speaking with Lado Vantaggio.” Overwhelmed as he was – he hadn’t had this kind of request for months – he continued after a few seconds. “I want to give that some thought. Just call back tomorrow afternoon.” Lado pressed the red call on his phone’s display and stared at his empty espresso cup.

For at least half a minute he sat motionless. All sorts of thoughts flashed through his mind. Recently he had actually, he thought to himself, recovered. He was well aware that he had to keep going. The fact that he had largely distanced himself from his company had actually slowed the healing process. His thoughts were both positive and negative. On the one hand, it flashed through his mind that this was a new development and therefore presented opportunities; on the other hand, an interview would allow all the more or less repressed misery to surface again.

Lado stood up and walked to the large, modern bar. He put the amount for the coffee with a small tip next to the cash register. Still lost in thought, he walked out of the café, toward his flat on Alexander King Street.

 

His thoughts went back to the time when he and his newly formed political party, the DNP, were under the influence of the Chinese infiltrators. The plans the infiltrators had, to control some vital places in Slautis society, had been almost successful. By manipulating the media and spreading false election predictions, the DNP had been the big surprise in the predictions. Lado had believed until the very end that the people put forward within the party by the infiltrators had been people of real integrity when in fact they were all under the influence of the infiltrators.

Thus, parts of Slautis, such as customs, had largely come under the control of the Chinese. That influence would become even greater if the prediction of the election results came true. The DNP, under the influence of the Chinese, would then take a seat in government, with all its consequences.

Fortunately for Slautis, this was prevented at the last minute by the discovery of the manipulations and subsequent measures taken by the security forces and the military. The elections were postponed and the manipulators were defused.

As he thought about this, a shiver went through his body. ‘It had a huge impact on me,’ he muttered aloud.