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The night was thick with fog, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the city feel like a maze of shadows. I sat in my office, the dim light of a single desk lamp casting long, eerie shapes across the room. The air was heavy with the scent of cheap perfume and the lingering smoke from my cigarette. It had been a long day, and it was about to get longer.
He walked in without knocking, a hulking Russian with a face that looked like it had seen too many winters. His eyes were cold, unblinking—a wolf sizing up its prey. But I wasn’t the prey. Not tonight.
“Detective Miku,” he said, his voice as rough as gravel. “I hear you’re asking questions. Dangerous questions.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs just enough to catch his eye. “Dangerous only if you have something to hide,” I replied, my voice smooth, almost playful. “I’m just curious about that mountain of coal that appeared out of nowhere. It’s not every day a pile like that shows up overnight.”
His expression didn’t change, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He wasn’t here to talk. Not really. But I needed answers, and I had my ways of getting them.
