Monday Afternoon
Wurzburg, Germany

In the Hallway of Jäger & Associates Private Security Firm

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Schrieber…" Matthias Jäger smiled reassuringly as he ushered the client, Dennis Schrieber, into the conference room, stopping briefly to flip a switch on a small device near the door. "But let me assure you, Ms. Obinger is our top investigator. Her reports are extremely thorough, and she is very covert in her research…there will be no evidence linking this back to you."

Hans Schrieber, a stout, graying man with a thick mustache, nodded nervously. "Yes, I understand…" He paused to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry, I suppose…I've never done this before…I've never…you know…"

"Now, now." Jäger interrupted him. "There is no need to feel so nervous. In this world, in this economy, holding onto traditional values—honor, fairness, honesty—is rarely profitable. People want to get the most they can for their money, and you are far from the first to contract outside help behind the scenes. If anything, in contracting us, you are merely leveling the playing field—you're getting the chance to honestly compete with your less-noble corporate rivals. Now…" He closed the door behind him as the machine at the door began to emit a soft humming sound. "Shall we get started? Oh, don't worry about that thing," he added, seeing his client's eyes linger suspiciously on the device, "It's just a white noise machine…to ensure that, should anybody happen to be listening outside, they won't hear anything of what we say. A privacy measure."

Schrieber nodded nervously, dabbing his forehead with the napkin again. The conference room was small and bare—off-white walls and ceiling, a gray carpet, no windows or decorations, and no furnishings except for a small, oval-shaped table in the middle of the room, surrounded by six simply-designed chairs with faux-leather seats and metal frames. On the table, there sat two folders, a cell phone, and a binder. A woman sat in one of the chairs, flipping through the binder—a short, slender woman with her thick, dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail atop her head, hazel eyes, and an impatient look on her face.

"Now, it is usually not within our protocol to introduce the clients to the investigators…but since you are a new client, and by all means a most valuable one, we've made an exception for you." Jäger grinned, gesturing for the woman to stand. "Mr. Schrieber, this is Katja Obinger…she has been handling your case. She has compiled reports on both of the men you requested, as well as their respective businesses and families…I believe that those are her reports there, on the table?"

"You're late, Matthias." Katja fixed Jäger with a stern look. "I have a schedule to keep, I hope you won't be dragging this meeting out for long…"

"It won't take more than a couple of minutes." Jäger gestured for Katja and Schrieber both to sit. Katja fell into her seat with graceful ease; Schrieber sat more stiffly, his hands flat on the table, his posture hunched. "I just wanted to introduce Mr. Schrieber here to you, and allow you to present your reports to him…"

Katja pushed both folders towards Schrieber. "The report itself summarizes what I felt were my most important findings, as well as my conclusions from the research I conducted…all of the material I've gathered is attached, as well. I'd stay behind to explain, but I've got somewhere to be in one hour, and it's on the other side of town. I trust Mr. Jäger here will be more than capable of explaining the rest to you." She picked up her cell phone and her binder and piled them into her black tote bag, and before Jäger or Schrieber could protest, she'd swept from the room.

No sooner had she exited the building than her cellphone started to ring. Swearing quietly under her breath, she answered it. "Ja?"

"Come on, Katja, it's me. Try to sound a little happier to hear my voice! Otherwise, I might stop using it so kindly." It was her girlfriend, Carole Fleischer. Katja grinned.

"Sorry, Carole. I had to meet with the boss, I told him I was on a tight schedule and he still arrived a half-hour late…" She sighed. "Must be nice, being in charge, not having to answer to anybody."

"You can be just as 'in charge' as you want when we get home, Katja. I got a bottle of wine, a few classic romances on DVD, and a few candles already lit…I suppose you can figure out what I want to do with all of that, but I'll let you make the final call."

Katja's grin widened. "You know how to spoil me, Carole. I'll be home as soon as possible, but I have to meet someone across town, business-related…I'll get home right after, I promise!"

"Alright. I love you, get back soon!"

"I will. I love you, too, Carole. Bye."

Katja stowed her cell in her bag as she reached her moped in the parking garage beside the building. She fumbled for a moment, searching for her keys. Once she'd recovered them, she plopped her helmet onto her head and started the engine. Her informant was waiting at an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town, and she still had to deliver the reward she'd promised.


Arriving at the warehouse, she found her informant sitting on the steps, fiddling idly with a cigar. "Hello, Klaus," she greeted him, extending her hand. "I appreciate your help in this case, as well as the many before it where you have been of assistance…now, for the reward I promised…"

He smiled at her, revealing several missing teeth. He was a thin, haggard man, bald as an egg and dressed in ill-fitted clothes that were an inch from being rags, with track marks dappling his arms and knees. "Always a pleasure, Ms. O," he slurred as he accepted the envelope she handed him. "Don't go yet, lemme count it up, make sure it's all here…"

"Try counting when you sober up, Klaus. You know where to find me if any of it is missing." She waved dismissively and started to walk back to her moped.

"Oh, yea, Ms. O, I could swear I saw your sister today…"

Katja froze dead in her tracks. "I don't have any sisters or brothers. What are you talking about?"

"Uh? She looked just like you, though…she had blond hair, but otherwise, straight image, could'a been you if I didn't know better, you wouldn't walk around dressed like that…"

"I don't have any sisters, Klaus. You're drinking too much again." That was what she said to him, at the time. But as she rode home, she couldn't help but feel unnerved. Her sister? She didn't have any sisters—her parents had required en vitro fertilization to even have Katja, and they'd never had any other kids…had they? Had there been one before that had been given up for adoption, and Katja was never told? No, that was impossible—her mother had struggled with fertility issues her entire life, it was congenital, Katja would never be able to have children without significant medical intervention either. It was ridiculous. Klaus was drinking too much again. He was an alcoholic. You couldn't take an alcoholic's word on anything.

It was illogical to worry about what Klaus had said, and Katja knew it. So why did she still feel so distraught by his words?


"Welcome home, Katja!" Carole grinned and threw her arms around Katja, kissing her full on the lips.

Katja smiled, embracing Carole. "Good to be home, Carole. How was your day? Hopefully, your boss is brighter than mine…"

Carole wrinkled her nose. She was a petite blond with green eyes, a splatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, and a crooked smile, which returned to her face after a momentary look of disgust. "Not in the least. He tried to make his own coffee today—an excuse to hit on the secretaries, all it was—and almost poured hand soap into his cup instead of cream. But he looked quite happy when I grabbed his arm to stop him!" She rolled her eyes. "He thinks I was helping him and had the nerve to ask me to dinner, to 'return the favor'…pah! I would've liked to see him drink that soap. But pouring a kitchen cleaner into good coffee like that is blasphemy! That's all I was thinking of. I told him that my mother was in town." She leaned back against the wall of the foyer, massaging her toes. Although one would not guess it looking at her in denim cutoffs, a tank top, bare feet, and her long hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she spent her working hours in a pencil skirt and blouse with pantyhose, heels, and her hair drawn into a tight bun. "I hate being this guy's secretary…I'd rather have work like yours. I mean, come on—you're a private eye, like James Bond or something! It's much more exciting!"

"Not really…it's mostly sitting at a computer, making phone calls, and talking to perverted old men, usually drunks…not that exciting." Katja removed the elastic that had been tethering her hair into a ponytail and hung her blazer up on a hook. "In fact, it's pretty similar to what you do. Just a little more creative freedom and shittier coffee." Sighing, she turned to Carole. "Please tell me you magically have a bubble bath waiting for us in the bathroom…I think you and I could both do with a bit of relaxation before we watch any movies."

Carole grinned, revealing a small smudge of red lipstick on her front tooth. "Ten steps ahead of you, Katja. I could tell by your voice on the phone that you'd need it just as badly as I would." She paused. "But first, sit down. I've got a surprise for you."

Katja sighed and flopped down on the living room couch. "Carole, you know I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one." She beamed at Katja. "I was thinking, you and I both have a few days off, between Thursday and Monday...I was thinking, we drop everything here, go to London for a couple of days to...relax and have some romance with a change of scenery...so I got tickets for Wednesday evening. A nice hotel and everything. We can go to a spa, we can see the sights, we can...I don't know...do whatever we want!"

Katja stared blankly at her. "I don't like surprises, Carole...and if you'd waited two more days to spring this on me, I really would have been mad at you." Then, her face split into a broad grin. She jumped up and threw her arms around Carole. "This is perfect! You were right, we really need to get out of here for a few days...thank you so much for thinking of this. Now..." She giggled, pressing the tip of her nose to Carole's. "How about that bath?"

Carole pressed her tongue between her teeth. "It might've cooled down a bit..."

"We'll just have to make it warmer." Katja pulled Carole towards the bathroom as she spoke. "Come on, grab that wine too...work can wait. Let's make it a good night!"


Oxford, United Kingdom
Thursday Morning

Konstantina Iovanasis awoke to the sound of her roommate yelling for her from the doorway. "Kana! Wake up, you damn snail! Your boyfriend's in the living room and he won't leave until he sees you."

Kana rubbed her eyes and sat up groggily. "Tell him to come in here and stop pestering you, then," she growled, "I'd rather he bother me than you."

Mel rolled her eyes. "No need to be so rude about it!"

"You have a very loose definition of 'rude', Mel...that I say you're bothering me is rude, but that you calling me a 'damn snail' is just fine?"

"Whatever, prick. I'll tell him to come in here. You two pricks deserve each other."

"Leave us alone, Mel." That was the gruff, scratchy voice of Dave, Kana's boyfriend. "If you don't want to be here, then take your damn bike around town and prove that you've got somewhere better to be."

Mel shot one final dirty look at Kana and Dave before leaving.

Dave sighed and closed the door behind him. "Good morning, sunshine," he grinned, brushing a stray curl of dark brown hair out of Kana's face. "Glad you're finally awake." He paused and lowered his voice. "Your roommate has no manners whatsoever. Why won't you just move in with me, we can get away from her?"

Kana shook her head. "I told you how my parents are...it was enough to convince them to let me come to England to study politics, they've got their traditional attitudes, they'd never stand for me living with a man I'm not married to."

Dave rubbed his temples. "I guess I just have to understand, you'd tell them if you were to come and live with me?"

"I wouldn't go behind my parents' backs. They've been nothing but good to me. I have to be honest with them."

"Alright. Is it a Greek family thing?"

"It's a good family thing. We don't lie to each other." Kana brushed his cheek with her fingers. "Do you come from a lying family, Dave?"

"Well, if you put it like that..." Dave shifted uncomfortably, trailing off. But then he brightened up. "Well! I didn't come here to discuss family or bitch roommates...I came here to let you know, we've got reservations for dinner. A classy little Lebanese place in London, got great reviews and it's pretty popular, from what I've heard. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to even get reservations." He kissed her on the cheek. "After you finish your classes today, come back here and put on a nice dress. We're going to dine out in style tonight."

Kana grinned at him. "Okay. It's a date." She leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she put up a hand to stop him. "No, no. I have to get ready for class, I overslept. We meet at your flat at five in the evening, yes?"

He nodded as he backed out the door. "As you wish. See you tonight, Kana. Let me know if you change your mind about moving into my flat, I can't take much more of Mel."


"This is the place." Dave tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "We can't park here, but give it a minute, we'll find a place."

Kana glanced out the window of the car. "Ha, you weren't making a joke when you said it's a classy place. I am maybe a little underdressed?"

He kissed her on the cheek. "You look great, Kana. Don't sweat it."

"Why would I sweat? It's cool outside."

Dave laughed. "You know, Kana, you make it easy to forget that English isn't your first language...until you say something like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Here, let's go this way to park. I think I saw a lot a couple blocks this way..."

As they walked into the restaurant after parking the car, Dave felt his pocket and swore. "Dammit, Kana...I think I left my wallet in the car...just go on over and let them know we're here, alright? Reservation for 8pm, name 'McAllinger'. I'll be back in two minutes."

Kana nodded with a smile. "Alright. Be back quickly."

He planted a quick kiss on her cheek. "I will." And then he hurried off down the street.

Kana approached the host. "Reservation for 8pm, party of two, under the name 'Dave McAllinger.' Is there anywhere I can wait, while he goes to the car?"

The host nodded politely. "There's a few seats right over there. Allow me to get you some water, Mrs. Allinger. Do you have any coats to check?"

"Oh! No, I—well, I don't have a coat, and—it's Iovanasis, we're not married..."

"Oh. My mistake, then, I apologize, Ms. Iovanasis. I'll be right back with your water."

"Thank you."

As the host ambled off to get Kana some water, she allowed her mind to wander. He'd mistaken her for Dave's wife. She'd said to Dave earlier that her parents wouldn't allow her to live with someone she wasn't yet married to...but why wouldn't she marry him? Maybe he'd even brought her here to propose to her...her cheeks flushed at the thought. We're of an appropriate age to marry, maybe even past it. My parents married when they were 24...I'm 27 and still unmarried. Why wouldn't I marry him? We've been together for two years, ever since I first came to England...She shook her head. It's not my place to think about that. It's his place to think of it and to ask me, if he thinks it right. And it's simply my job to say yes or no. She giggled. Should I say yes if he asks?

She didn't realize that she'd been sitting there for a long time, contemplating Dave's possible proposal, until the manager approached her, clearing his throat. "You've been there for 30 minutes, we'll have to give your table away if your boyfriend doesn't come back soon...I think perhaps you should call him?"

Kana frowned. It had been a half hour? It didn't feel that long at all...but why hadn't Dave returned? She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Dave's number. There were ten rings, and then it went to voicemail. At that point, Kana began to worry. Something's wrong.

She remembered where they'd parked. It occurred to her to go back to the car and make sure everything was okay. What if Dave had gotten an asthma attack while on his way to the car? What if he'd gotten mugged? There were all sorts of things that could have happened. She rose and walked quickly through the door, stopping briefly to apologize to the host for the trouble. What if something happened to him? By the time she reached the parking lot, she was running.

Dave was slumped over the hood of the car. The windshield and pavement were splattered with blood, and there was a gaping hole in his back clearly made by a bullet. He was dead.

Kana screamed as she stumbled over to his body. "No...no..." She pulled out her phone, intending to call for help—and at that moment, she slipped and tumbled to the ground. A bullet whizzed past her, shattering the windshield of a nearby car.

That was when her adrenaline kicked in. There was no time to scream, no time to call anyone—someone was trying to kill her. She had to get out of there, fast. She lunged towards the street and broke into a run.

At that moment, she crashed headlong into—herself?

The face, the hair, the eyes...it was all her. But it wasn't, it couldn't be?

Is this what it means for your life to flash before your eyes? Kana's eyes widened as she faced her identical. No—this is someone else, someone who looks just like me...how?

The woman she'd just crashed into seemed equally startled by her appearance. "Schise..." she whispered.

"Skata..." Kana gasped.

It was the last word she ever said.