Chapter 6
Radio Silence

Frank had tied his still-wet hair back after a shower that wasn't as brief as they had intended and unearthed the most formal looking clothing he had brought. The success of that was rather limited in the form of intact jeans and a dark grey t-shirt. Adam's style was generally more elegant, so he wouldn't look like a hobo that stumbled into the wedding by accident.

The address Johanna had given them was a mansion on the outskirts of Apatin. It had been built only two years ago when Ilya Mukhin had taken up permanent residence in the town.

Given the looks of Apatin itself, even the word town was an exaggeration. The place looked like a very wide-spread village. It didn't have anything close to an urban feeling. Even Peterculter had more infrastructure, and that was saying something. Why anyone would want to live here was beyond Frank.

'Will you look at that.' They had come around a bend and were within sight of their destination. 'Looks expensive, that's certain. This Ilya has money.'

'Which is probably the only reason why Johanna is doing this.'

'Francis … am I the only one who thinks this is horribly sad?'

'No. You're not. Although before we were planning our own wedding, I'd probably have laughed.'

Adam parked their rented car on the side of the road. He took Frank's hand on their short walk up to the entrance, intertwining their fingers. Johanna was standing on one side of the door, for all the world looking happy. Her short, green dress didn't look like a wedding gown, but then again, this was only the feast. They had gone to the registry office alone with their witnesses.

The man next to her was interesting. He was tall and gangly and handsome enough. He had soft features with high cheekbones and generally looked like Johanna's polar opposite. 'Next to her, he looks like Slender Man,' Frank said quietly.

'I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't think I want to know.' Adam smiled. 'Good evening, Jo. Добрый вечер, Ilya. Thank you for having us here, tonight.'

'You are very welcome, my dears. Please, come inside. There are a couple of other guests we are still waiting for. Once they arrive, we'll have dinner. The dining hall is the first door to the right.'

Adam led the way in. For a wedding, it seemed a subdued affair. There was no music, and people were talking in hushed voices. 'Good inspiration for us, eh? How not to do this.'

'We're going to have a lot less people there. And I bet you my right hand that those few will be a lot louder than that bunch.'

'Not difficult. I can be louder all on my own.'

'Please don't.' Frank found their seats and sat awkwardly at a table with an old couple. They both looked sour.

'Good evening', Adam tried.

'Nabend,' the woman said.

Frank leaned close to Adam's ear. The woman's expression got even sourer. 'Incidentally, what did you say to Ilya out there?'

'The same. Good evening. I also used his first name, since we're such good friends with Jo.'

Whatever answer Frank had in mind, he was interrupted by the door opening. A group of five young people came in. They, at least, seemed to have some spirit. One of them looked almost like a slightly younger copy of Ilya. Johanna and Ilya stood in the door, both smiling. Even though he knew that Johanna was pretending, it was hard to see through it. 'Thank you again for joining us tonight. Dinner will be served in a few minutes. I know it was short notice, but we are glad that you came anyway.'

Ilya's lips twitched and he put his arm around Johanna. 'My sincere thanks, too. Please, don't be so quiet. This isn't a funeral. We're celebrating Johanna and my love for each other.' He pressed his lips to her cheek with a fond expression. 'I look forward to getting to know all of you. As a start, the house is yours tonight. My security has the evening off, but what with us being so many, I'm sure we could fend off any invaders.'

Adam grinned. 'That's what he thinks.'

'I don't like this,' Frank said quietly. 'Call me paranoid, but there's something going on we don't know.'

'What makes you think that?'

'My gut.'

'Is there any chance you're going to tell me what you'll do?'

'Not now. After dinner.' The five young people had taken up a table next to them. Ilya's lookalike had embraced the groom and kissed his cheeks. 'Do you trust me, Jensen?'

'You know I do. Implicitly.'

'Don't forget it.'

The food they got was extremely good. They had ominous-looking red soup that was surprisingly delicious, various salads, something like tortellini with potato filling, and some weird rolled up, stuffed, and breaded meat. Apparently they were all typical Russian, Swabian, and Serbian foods, although Adam said that the soup, at least, wasn't originally Russian. Ilya had sat at their table briefly, and the sour old couple had lit up a bit. His English was excellent, better than Johanna's, and Frank had the impression that his German was good, too. Frank decided now was as good a time as any. Both their hosts were engaged in conversation with their guests, so maybe this was the ideal moment. He excused himself to the bathroom, making sure he had a small portable device with him that held his software.

Ϡ

Adam had known that Francis would slip away to try and put a bug on Ilya's computer, so he didn't worry too much when the hacker didn't return after a couple of minutes. Francis had asked him not to look for him, so he remained where he was. He would contact him via infolink if he thought the entire thing was taking longer than it should, and if Francis failed to answer that, he'd go and find him, no matter what he'd promised before. Adam's trust in Francis knew no bounds, but this house full of strangers was a different matter entirely.

He was spared from trying to make contact in secret by Ilya. The young man had returned to his table to chat with Adam, since he and Francis were the only guests he hadn't met before. After a while, he took a glance at his watch. 'Are you sure your friend is well? He's been a while.'

Adam gave Ilya a look and wondered what Johanna had told him. He decided to give him the truth regardless. 'He's not my friend, exactly. He's my fiancé.'

'Oh? Oh! Even more so, then.'

Adam sighed. 'Wait a moment. I'll ask him. Francis? Francis …' A pang of concern hit Adam. 'He's not answering.'

Ilya put a hand on his shoulder. 'We'll look for him. Come on.'

There were a number of reasons why Adam didn't want anyone to come with him, let alone the man who was the target of what amounted to espionage. Still, he had little choice to do anything but follow him out of the dining room. 'Pritchard, answer me. Ilya's going to help me look for you. A hint where you are could help.' Again, nothing. Adam swallowed drily.

'I'll check the bathroom,' Ilya said. 'I'll only be a moment.' The young man returned after a few seconds. 'No. Odd.' He scratched his head. 'Hey, Dima!' He gestured to someone in the dining hall, and his lookalike joined them. 'Adam, this is my brother Dima.' Ilya continued talking in rapid Russian, and Dima walked briskly to the far end of the corridor. 'A while ago, my brother in law had a heart attack in this house. I'm damaged from that. Oh, this isn't what you want to hear right now.'

Despite his concern, Adam watched Ilya closely. If he was acting, he was doing a good job. He seemed flustered and genuinely worried. The social enhancer seemed to agree. Ilya was troubled. They started checking the rooms on their end of the hall. After a few moments, they heard a call from Dima. 'Library?' Ilya said. 'What in the world …'

Adam's heart was racing. He sped ahead of Ilya and past Dima who looked like he was forcing himself not to laugh. The moment he was inside the library, he stopped dead. Francis was on the floor, leaning against a bookcase. Next to him he had a bottle of God-knew-what. 'Oh God.'

Ilya bit his lower lip. His control held for about two seconds. Then he snorted. 'О Боже.' He picked up the bottle. 'Someone sacrificed himself at last. This is the most terrible Slivovitz in all of Serbia.'

Still concerned, Adam knelt next to him. 'Francis? Francis! Damn it.' He patted his cheek, and Francis jerked awake.

'Sup?'

Adam shook his head. 'We're leaving … Ilya … I'm sorry.'

The Russian grinned. 'No problem. I'll tell Johanna you had to go. I hear that you're going to join our business? But … best not discuss this tonight.'

Adam scratched his head. 'Don't judge him, I've never seen him drunk before. I haven't the faintest idea what he was thinking.'

Ilya laughed. 'Maybe he needed a reason to get out? It's okay. Just take care of him, right?'

'Right.' Adam tilted Francis's face up so that he looked at him. 'Can you help me, do you think?'

'Helpyazhwhat?'

Adam rolled his eyes. 'Never mind.'

Ϡ

On their drive back to the hotel, Francis was hanging in the seat like a drowned person. Adam wondered briefly if a hospital wasn't a better idea, but when talked to, Francis responded, so he decided to just look after him and call help when he needed it. He was torn between worry, exasperation, and amusement. A few people at Sarif Industries had occasionally indulged themselves during workhours. Once, Adam had to remove a couple of guys that had thought it was a good idea to get drunk in the early afternoon in a storage area. They had been told not to bother coming back in to work. Francis had been the one who'd found out about them before this. His eyes and ears had been everywhere and he had reported them to Adam in case they became a problem. His repulsion of their behaviour, even when it was still harmless enough, had been very apparent.

Even now, he practically never drank. He'd once tried some rum Fabian had brought, but he normally just didn't do this. He was also a lightweight, he said, so an entire bottle of Slivovitz was enough to be a real problem. On the other hand, a lot of that seemed to be on him rather than in him. He stopped the car at their hotel. 'Francis, we're there.' The reply was barely more than a grunt. Adam helped him out of the car and up to their floor. The receptionist hid her laughter as badly as Ilya. Adam kicked the door to their apartment close behind them and led Francis straight to the bed. He collapsed on it in a heap, and Adam arranged him in a less awkward position before he took a few moments to look out of the window into the night. It was strange. During their drive, he had tried to take a reading with the CASIE, hoping it could help him decide whether to take him to hospital or not. The result wasn't satisfying. A drunk person should give a rather low reading on all levels, but it had been all over the place. Francis was nervous. He was leaning against the door of the car, pretty much passed out, and nervous. It made no sense.

'Thanks for the help, Jensen.' Adam spun and found his fiancé sitting on the bed with a shit-eating grin. 'You bought it, didn't you?'

'What the hell?'

'I nearly got caught. I placed a little bit of rather inconspicuous software on Ilya's computer when that serving girl spotted me. I was done already, and I had grabbed the bottle in advance. In case someone found me, you see.'

'Drinking the host's bad booze is better than hacking his computer. I agree.'

'Pouring it down my front, too.' Francis shed the shirt. 'Now I need to shower again. Anyway, I wandered around with my bottle a bit and decided the library was a good place to wait. Inconspicuous, too.'

'Pritchard, I was scared when you didn't answer.'

'I know. I needed you to worry.'

'That's nice.'

'Jensen, think. We don't know the first thing about Ilya. What if he has a social enhancer, too?'

Adam opened his mouth and closed it. 'That didn't even occur to me. You're right.'

Francis held his shirt away from himself with two fingers. 'I think I'm half drunk from smelling this. God. I'll just try and wash this a bit. And myself. I can't sleep with booze in my nose.' His lips twitched. 'It worked, though. We're in. Tomorrow I'll check if my rootkit is doing us any good.' He glared at the shirt. 'And once I'm done with this thing, I'm going to sleep. I swear I'm drunk from wearing this.'

Adam stripped off his clothes and tried to find sleep. Instead, he found himself staring into the dark until Francis crawled into bed with him. 'What's wrong, Adam? Can I help?' he asked softly, cupping his face and caressing his cheek with a thumb.

Adam turned his head a bit to kiss Francis's hand. 'You always help. It's Ilya. Francis … He seems like a decent guy.'

'You all fell for my show.'

'Yes. But not the CASIE. I knew something was wrong about you, you were much too agitated for someone stone drunk. His concern was real.' He turned to his side and looked at Francis. 'I think we should be careful here. We know Johanna is friends with David, and we know she doesn't trust Ilya. But my gut agrees with yours. Something doesn't add up.'

'You think she's lying?'

'I think it's more likely she's just plain wrong. She detests him, so she believes he's the one trying to hurt her company.'

Francis nodded slowly. 'You're right. All we have is the word of a biased person.'

Adam pulled Francis against him with his back to his chest. He sighed and closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of Francis's warm skin against his body. That alone was enough to give him the peace he needed to sleep. 'Good night, my love.'

'Night, Adam. Oh, and thank you.'

'For what?'

'Being perfectly civil when you thought I was drunk enough never to remember a thing. You had every right to be mad at me.'

'Go to sleep. I need to plan my revenge in peace. If for nothing else, for the fact that you kept your charade up for so long.'

Francis laughed. It was infectious to hear him do it, always, without failure. Adam hugged him even closer and grinned against the back of Francis's head, digging his nose into his soft hair. 'I thought it's best if there are witnesses,' Francis explained. 'If Ilya asks in the hotel, the receptionist will have seen me being half carried by you.'

'Stop making sense. I'm going to think of something. Just wait for it.'