Deaths at Davos by Malleret Thierry

Author:Malleret, Thierry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Day 6

Thursday 18 January 2024 – Davos

It’d been a short night for Olena. She had spent it lying sleepless in her bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, with the events of the past few days coursing feverishly through her mind. Just when, consumed by fatigue, she was on the point of falling asleep, the nightmarish image of the Congressman’s smiling face exploding in front of her re-surfaced, banishing any chance of peaceful rest. After a couple more spells of fitful napping, she conceded that she might as well give up the struggle. She looked at her watch. It was 5am. She got up and reached for her laptop.

Overnight, waves of emails had inundated her professional and personal inboxes. Her WhatsApp and LinkedIn accounts were awash with hundreds of messages. She opened Signal. A message from Phil was waiting. "thinking of you. you are safe. i am offline but will msg again later today. p"

She gazed fixedly at the text, as if somehow closer scrutiny might dispel some of the mystery. But her head continued to spin with questions. Why was he so cryptic? What did he mean by ‘safe’? Who was he really? What was this other life, and had he always had it, even when they were together? What side was he on? And the most crucial question of all: could she trust him?

She’d respond to him later. For now, she was desperate for an explanation, for any piece of information that could help make sense of this cataclysmic series of events. Above all, she was desperate for anything that could reassure her. She was baffled. Did she a have a leading role in this relentless series of bloody dramas, or was she simply an unfortunate spectator on their periphery? The more she turned things over in her mind, the greater the indecision. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time too many times for it to be mere bad luck. The train, the shooting – and there were the other coincidences. Her journalist friend in the helicopter, then yesterday in the packed plenary room, Mark Massover ‘choosing’ to pass out just in front of her. Yet, she thought, if, for whatever reason, I am the target, I’d already be dead. Where to look for clues? Her first instinct took her to the Circle’s unofficial WhatsApp group. Managed by a coterie of former employees feeding off the gossip provided by those still on the inside, it knew how to place the inner workings of the Circle under a microscope, dissecting it with the precision of a scalpel. Sardonic and often damning. She opened it, skimming through an endless feed as fast as she could. Most messages centred on the Don’s reaction to the whole drama, his pathological obsession to keep going no matter what. He’d abandoned the situation room, was on his own, consulting from his bunker with God knows who. His ship was caught in a mammoth storm; he conveyed the impression of an exhausted captain plugging leaks with a small bowl.

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