This chapter took ages to write, mostly because I kept getting distracted and needed to research, which I kept procrastinating on.
Warning for dead bodies in this chapter.
Okay, so if you're familiar with Skender, Dragomir and Eugen, skip this paragraph. The three kids represent the two Romanian and one Bulgarian micronations. Dragomir represents Wirtland in Bulgaria, Skender represents Valia in Romania and Eugen represents the Federal Republic of South-Eastern Carpathians, which boarders both Romania and Moldova.
...
Everyone always said that the Borisov-Radacanu residence would end up behind police tape one day.
There was just something weird about the family that lived there, the entire street said. The parents were far too odd, too eccentric, too secretive. They barely spoke German, and never talked to their neighbours. If anyone tried to strike up a conversation, they would panic, mumble something about being busy, then shuffle away. The children were more friendly, but only the oldest could hold a conversation, the other two being babies. And even little Skender- a quiet, shy, introverted child- sometimes refused to answer questions. It was like his parents had sworn him into secrecy on certain subjects.
The parents themselves had a great number of subjects they refused to talk about. Their jobs, for one, plus their home life, pasts, extended family.
And one of them kept showing up with injuries.
Concerned neighbours had called the police several times about the cuts and bruises Mr Borisov had sustained to the face, arms and torso but they brushed it off and no one knew why. Not even one visit had been made. Because of that, people tended to find excuses to visit. Ask Mr Radacanu tough questions. Closely observe the three boys for signs of injury too. They never had any, but that didn't stop everyone from worrying about them. They were so little! The truth- that Mr Borisov was working as a spy, and tended to end up in fights- was too far-fetched for even the wildest imaginations among the neighbourhood gossips.
And now this.
Unsurprisingly, nobody knew what exactly had happened, but in the few hours since the police had first arrived, rumours were already circulating that Mr Borisov had murdered his husband and three children.
Which was why, when the already emotionally drained Tsvetan stumbled out of Andrei's car, he was horrified to hear a string of abuse from the small crowd being held back by tape and policemen.
"Murderer!"
"Scum!"
"Oh leave him alone! We all know that husband of his was using him as a punch bag! Remember all those bruises?"
"That's no excuse for murder!"
"I understand doing in that bastard husband, but to slaughter his own children too?"
"Just typical of your lot!"
Before Tsvetan could protest that, Andrei dragged him through the crowd towards a familiar face. The shorter man refused to look at anyone, face grim and drained. He marched them over to the polizei standing at the edge of the cordoned off garden.
"Officer Hassan!" he called.
The young policeman's usually impassive expression was graced with the slightest hint of pity and guilt as he nodded at the pair.
"What happened?" He was right in front of Officer Hassan now, "please tell me it isn't true!"
"I'm afraid your brother's body was found earlier in his home."
"And our children?" Tsvetan took Officer Hassan's hand, silently begging the man to give him some hope.
"The crime scene investigators- the fieldworkers- have only found two so far, the youngest two. Both dead. Skender Radacanu-Borisov has been reported missing, but," he sighed, rubbing his face with a hand, "we're not hopeful, if I'm completely honest."
"No, he'll be alive, he has to be!"
"We'll soon see."
"Can we go in?" Andrei asked.
"Absolutely not!" Officer Hassan wrinkled his nose, "neither of you have any qualifications in crime scene investigation. And I hardly doubt you and Mr Borisov are in any emotional state to be seeing… well, to be seeing what's inside."
Tsvetan shook his head, allowing Officer Nguyễn- who'd just joined them- to lead him to a waiting ambulance. She sat him down between the open back doors and ambulance personnel passed a steaming mug of tea into his hands, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
"We'll find your son," she promised, "and find out what happened to the others."
More shouts from a few metres away caught Tsvetan's attention, and he winced.
"You have to know, I didn't do it! I'd never…"
"That's for us to decide," Officer Nguyễn told him firmly, "the crime scene investigators will collect their evidence. We will process that evidence, and use it to find suspects."
"I was at work all night," Tsvetan insisted, "any of my colleagues will tell you! You can check the CCTV footage if you want."
"All in good time," Officer Nguyễn sighed.
"I love my family so much," he whispered, trembling as he warmed his hands on the mug.
"I'm sure you do."
"Can't you make that lot go away?" Tsvetan nodded at the angry crowd, and Officer Nguyễn sighed.
"Oy, clear out!" she shouted, shooing them away, "this is a crime scene!"
A few begrudgingly wandered off, but most stayed put. She tried again.
"I'll arrest the whole fucking lot of you! Now leave us to investigate in peace!"
"Investigate?" cried one man, "we all know that monster did it! Lock him up and throw away the key!"
Tsvetan shrank away, too nervous and grief-stricken to defend himself. He sat there silently, feeling absolutely wretched. He hadn't murdered them- Tsvetan wouldn't dream of doing something so disgustingly evil- but it was still his fault they were dead! He still had no idea how Alin and his youngest two had been killed, but was willing to bet there was some way he could've prevented it. Of course there was! The problem was that he spent too much time at work. Maybe if he'd been home he could've protected them…
He couldn't do this anymore. Working long hours, risking his life and never seeing his family, that wasn't how to live! And now most of his family was dead. He'd never see Dragomir and Eugen grow up. He'd never hold them close and feel the warmth of their tiny, precious bodies again. Eugen was still a baby! And Dragomir was barely walking and mumbling out words. And Alin. His dear Alin. The love of his life and father of his children! Tsvetan refused to believe he was gone. This all had to be an elaborate joke! Any minute now, Alin and the children would come bursting out of somewhere and laugh at his reaction.
But even Alin wouldn't be twisted enough to fake his own death for a prank, let alone fake his children's deaths. He had a warped sense of humour, but he hated the thought of their three sons being hurt in any way. And even if he was, there was no way he'd be able to rope two respectable policemen into going along with it too!
There was something shady about this entire situation and Tsvetan hated being kept in the dark.
He thought about the other agents, the ones who had lost loved ones recently. Agents België and Monte Carlo both had brothers who'd been killed, whose deaths had been linked to Commonwealth, and now here he was, only months after joining them on the case, facing a similar tragedy.
Maybe it was time to quit the agency before he lost everything.
The more he thought of it, the more Tsvetan found comfort in the idea. Once Skender had been found, he would take the child and leave the country. Skender was Alin's biological son, and Tsvetan's stepson, and had never actually seen Bulgaria before. Maybe they could move there. Somewhere along the coast, Varna or Burgas, where they could get by, Tsvetan earning money by fixing computers for locals and tourists. Something small and peaceful. He had to protect what little he had left, and besides, even if his innocence was proven, Tsvetan had a feeling life here would become very unpleasant indeed. An innocent verdict would probably not stop his neighbours treating him with anything from suspicion to outright hatred.
More cars turned up, and Tsvetan noticed Officer Nguyễn wince.
"The press," she growled, "quick, get inside the ambulance while I talk to them." Tsvetan shakily stood up and climbed in the back of the ambulance whilst Officer Nguyễn shut the doors before turning to argue with various journalists and camera crews.
Andrei, meanwhile, was grilling the other police officer for answers.
"Can't you tell us anything about the nature of these killings?" he pressed.
"I'm afraid not;" Officer Hassan was visibly uncomfortable, "we don't now much yet, and it's far too early to be making accusations."
Andrei leaned in closer, "it's a Commonwealth killing, isn't it?"
"I honestly don't know! The fieldworkers only arrived a few minutes before you did. We only just secured the scene of the crime shortly before that. It'll be hours before we know anything. Then we must process the data, arrest potential suspects and try them in court."
"I understand," Andrei rubbed his face, though his grief still shone through. He was trying his best to keep a clear head, but all he wanted to do was scream and shout, to rush in and see his brother for himself. Alin couldn't be dead, surely! It had to be a lie!
"And we'll be arresting Mr Borisov too."
"But he didn't do it!"
"We cannot know that for certain."
"He's been with me the whole day," Andrei exclaimed.
"Then we'll treat you both as suspects."
Andrei glared at him. "Alin was- is- my brother! Those are my baby nephews you're talking about! How dare you-"
"We need to treat everyone with suspicion."
"Well, we have an alibi; we can prove we've been at work all day."
"Prove it and Borisov can walk free," Officer Hassan let out a sigh.
"We shall." Andrei paused for a few moments, nodding slowly before leaning closer. "It's a Commonwealth-related death, isn't it?"
"We can't say!" Officer Hassan exclaimed, "we don't know yet!"
"Look, it's funny that as soon as Borisov starts working on that case, someone takes a pop at his family, just like the two in Magyar's group."
"Take it up with Agent Magyar then," Officer Hassan hissed, "it's his case."
"It's ours now too," Andrei corrected, "we've been put on the case along with Magyar's group. So you have to tell us what you know about anything that even smells like it could be related to Commonwealth."
Hassan grimaced, for the briefest of moments, before the blank façade was back on his face.
"If it turns out to be Commonwealth related, then we will contact you."
"I'd still like to assist in the investigation, if you don't mind," Andrei's lip quivered, "that's my brother in there…"
"Which is why we need you to distance yourself from this particular crime scene," Officer Hassan reasoned, "your emotions could impair your judgement. You're grieving. Let the police handle this one."
"But-"
"Perhaps I could help?"
The pair turned around to find a young man staring at them hopefully. He was neat, and appeared wealthy, judging by his expensive suit, immaculate down to his gold cufflinks. His light, fluffy hair was combed back and his soft, teal eyes were curious.
"And you are?" Andrei raised an eyebrow.
"Luca Morgens, or Agent Fondue, if you will." Luca smiled at Andrei warmly.
"Ah, so you're the new agent? But what the hell are you doing here? You don't start work until Monday!"
"Well," Luca's smile turned sheepish, "I was on my way to HQ to introduce myself and just as I was entering the car park, I saw you and Agent Yogurt leave in a massive hurry and, well, I decided to follow you see what was happening."
"Well, you certainly have the makings of a spy," Andrei commented, ignoring Luca's outstretched hand.
Luca turned his attention to Officer Hassan; "I'm not married or related to any of the victims, so could I assist the fieldworkers?"
"I don't know," the policeman frowned, "are you a forensics expert?"
"I have a Masters in forensic science," Luca sniffed, "I think I can handle myself."
"Fine," he hissed, "see that tent there? Go get changed in it and see what they want you to do."
"Right!" Luca gave a beaming smile, but Andrei found himself frowning.
"Hang on a moment," he growled, "if you followed me and Agent Yogurt as closely as you said, how come it's taken you this long to make yourself known?"
Luca grinned sheepishly. "Well, I was spying, wasn't I? Plus, I had to get past the angry policewoman over there. Didn't want to let me past, even after showing her my ID. Or, should that be, especially after… She doesn't seem to be too fond of the DSA; any idea why that is, Agent Patch?"
"None whatsoever."
"Do I detect some venom in that response?"
"Detect as much venom as you like," Andrei shrugged, "makes no difference to me."
"Would my sneezing over the crime scene make a difference to you?"
Andrei narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."
"Of course not," Luca's smile turned cold as he pushed past, "wouldn't dream of it! Besides, I'll be wearing a mask!"
Andrei continued to glare at the retreating mop of fluffy, blond hair.
…
Luca was determined not to mess this up. It was his first job working for somewhere like the DSA and he needed to make such an opportunity turn into a success. He owed it to his brother and sister.
It was lucky that he'd been put on the Commonwealth case immediately. He'd heard rumours that Agent Seagull- one of his apparent new workmates- had spent years in the agency and still had no leads on how his own two siblings had died, which was why he'd signed up in the first place. Murder, of course. But by who?
At least Luca knew who killed his older brother. Well, he knew what organisation was responsible, which was a start. And it was the organisation he was about to go up against.
He only hoped he wouldn't share his brother's fate.
Luca entered the house wearing a white, protective uniform, plastic overshoes and a surgical mask. His silk gloves had been replaced by two layers of rubber ones. The uniform included a hood that covered his bouncy hair, and Luca knew all this would seriously reduce the danger of evidence contamination.
The Crime Scene Manager had told him that three bodies had been located so far and that the eldest child was still missing, though they hadn't searched the entire house yet, too preoccupied with securing the crime scene and searching for evidence outside before it was ruined by rain or wind. He didn't acknowledge the CSIs collecting evidence from possible exit and entry routes around the house, since they were too wrapped up in their work and didn't need distraction. Besides, he had his own job to do.
His orders were to search the second storey of the building for any possible evidence, and Skender Radacanu.
Tsvetan had provided a small photo of the child from his wallet, and that happy, chubby face was still burnt into his memory. The scruffy brown hair that plastered his jaw and shoulders. Calm, dark green eyes.
Luca prayed such a tiny, helpless child was still alive.
He walked into the hall, past the body of Dragomir Borisov, where a photographer was taking pictures of the toddler, particularly the gunshot wounds littering his back. Another scene of crime officer stood beside them, taking notes.
Luca glanced in through the sitting room door, where two more bodies were being photographed. Alin Radacanu was sprawled out in the middle of the carpet, head twisted at a sickening angle. Most hauntingly of all, was little Eugen Radacanu, still in his baby basket, throat slit.
Luca's heart sank as he looked away, feeling more than a little ill. He thought of Tsvetan, pale and terrified, sat in the ambulance trying to deny the whole thing, even though he knew, deep down, that they were gone. The young agent hated to see what had probably been a proud man reduced to a mere shell, and to see innocent people butchered in such a way.
He tried to touch as little as possible as he climbed the stairs, glancing around with apprehension as he reached the landing.
It was all too easy to find the child.
Luca's legs trembled as he walked to the door riddled with bullet holes. He half expected blood to start leaking from the tiny wounds, and it took every ounce of resolve to place a hand on the door handle and slowly prize the thing open.
And there it was, crouched at the bottom of an airing cupboard and covered in blood.
The tiny, four year old body of Skender Radacanu.