"Fuck me," Trish said after reviewing the contents of the case, "why didn't he tell me any of this?"

"Probably for the reasons you mentioned earlier. They weren't import to your immediate job of protecting Annelie Bodin."

They were sitting on the grass under one of the trellises in the rose garden. Trish has the case open in he lap as she scanned the photos of the letters, and the printed translations. Trish did not need a translation for some of them, German being one of the languages she was completely fluent in. It was because of that fact that Trish was able to notice an important detail.

"These three were not written by any native German speaker," she said as she held up the three photos that contained the letters in question, "someone wrote these in another language, and translated them afterwards into German."

"Why do you say that?"

Trish picked one photo at random and pointed to it.

"A German would have written es wird nicht gut für dich enden, not es wird nicht enden gut für dich."

"You have a good eye. Any idea what language it was originally written in?"

Trish took a moment to think.

"If they just did a word for word translation it's most likely English or French. There are too many words for Finnish, Italian or Spanish, and not enough words for Swedish. Could be Dutch or Norwegian I guess. Possibly Russian. The word count's not right, but it's a big country, and some regions use contractions that aren't common in other regions."

"Wouldn't an online translator have done a better job?"

"Possibly, but it would have left an online trail," Trish answered before a thought occurred to her.

"Has Kyle shared anything with you, or you with him?"

"No. I'm not working for, or with, Kyle Richmond."

"Who are you working for?"

"Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, and you."

Shit.

"So no one besides Jessica knows you have been looking at this, and sharing what you found with me?"

"Luke set up our meeting, Jessica sent me your request. Past the two of them and the two of us, no one knows we are meeting, and no one other than you will get any information from me on any subject as it relates to this investigation unless you instruct me otherwise. Personally."

"Good," Trish answered.

I think. Jesus what a goddam mess. There's no fucking way I'm telling Kyle about this.

"What about the other letters?" Dakota North asked.

Two were in a language Trish had never seen.

Чи орилоод үхэх нь дээ, новш минь was written at the end of one rambling letter, which had a translation underneath.

you're going to beg for death, you fucking cunt.

"I don't recognize that language," Trish said, as she took her phone and scanned the printed text with a custom language reading app.

"Chi orilood ükhekh ni dee, novshiin gichii."

"Fuck me," Trish said again as she recognized the sound of two of the words.

"What?" Dakota asked.

"Now I know what that asshole said to me before I cracked his skull."


Trish walked slowly back the way she had come, passing Buckingham Fountain again as she headed for the intersection of Columbus and Balbo Drives. A good part of her mind was still busy digesting the information she had just received, all of which was still safely inside the attache case in her left hand. A small portion of her remaining mental capacity, and her hyper sensitive eyes and ears, stayed tuned to her surroundings, even though the park in her vicinity was mostly deserted.

Four sets of letters or, more accurately, letters sent written in three different languages, though one of those languages was clearly faked. The letters written in English, and those written in one of the provincial dialects of French found in Switzerland, seemed genuine. It was the remaining letters that currently had Trish's attention.

"It's a dialect of Mongolian, spoken by the Bruyats, most of whom live on Russia's northern border with Mongolia," Dakota North had explained.

"That dickhead on the plane had a Russian pistol, and spoke that language," Trish said as she pointed to the photo she still held in her left hand.

"What about the rest of them?"

"The other two I interacted with spoke English, but that was before they knew their cover was blown."

"So someone hired Bruyats to kidnap Annelie Bodin after she got threatening letters in four languages, at least one of which was faked. Letters that showed up in places she should not have."

"Sums it up so far."

"And the NYPD has those four, but Kyle has the two local guys who were tailing her."

"Yup, though he might have already gift wrapped those two and dropped them somewhere for the NYPD to find."

"I think we're both up to speed now," Dakota said as she stood and brushed the grass from her pants, "I'll keep digging. You'll keep me in the loop on anything you find out?"

"I will. Do I want to ask how much you are charging me for this?"

"Rushmore Investigations' fee structure is on our web page," she said with a smile, "you can look it up later. I can't stand watching grown women cry."

"Rushmore," Trish said with a smile of her own, "cute. I see what you did there."

"You're observant. You should be an investigator."

"Ha ha. It is to laugh."

"Kyle was right to be worried," Dakota North said, all trace of levity gone from her voice.

"Yeah," Trish replied, her tone of voice also becoming serious, "I got that impression."

"I'll be in touch."


Trish had not known what to expect before meeting the auburn haired, fair skinned, woman who should really learn to use sunscreen, but she had not expected what was inside the black metal case dangling by its handle from Trish's left hand. It was an old habit that Trish had learned years ago to keep her right hand empty so as not to stuff her gun hand as they said in the trade. Trish did not carry a gun on a regular basis anymore, but it was a habit that she had no wish to break.

Dakota North had included an analysis of how it was possible that someone knew Annelie's hotel arrangements before Annelie herself knew them.

"It's either an inside job, or someone on the inside is using a compromised device to make or store the arrangements," she had said while Trish was reading those same words in the printed report, along with a list of names of people, all in Annelie's employment, who were the likeliest sources of the leaked information, and the names and addresses of the hotels where the letters were found.

"We'll take care of that small detail," Trish had replied, "we'll be making her arrangements from now on. Not even Kyle will know where she is staying. And all our devices are encrypted and double blinded. No one's tracing anything back to us, or her."

"Good. Your boat's water tight? Totally?"

"If it's not, then nothing is."

"You gonna stock the pond with red herring?" Dakota asked her, using an old term for an even older practice of leaving false clues for someone to follow.

"We've booked a couple of rooms around the city under her name, but her real room will be reserved under an alias. The only thing that will be in the other rooms is surveillance equipment."

"You want help monitoring those, let me know. We provide that service too."

Jesus, I'm already gonna have to take out a loan to pay for this.

"Thanks for the offer. Let me consult, and I'll get back to you."

It was going to be Sharon, Simon and Michael that checked into those rooms and set up the equipment. Anyone who saw the name on the reservation, and the woman doing her best to hide under a big floppy hat and dark glasses would put two and two together and come up with five, which is exactly what Trish wanted them to do. But in order for Dakota to help monitor those rooms Trish would have to share with her team that fact that Dakota North existed at all, and was helping Trish, and that Kyle knew nothing about it.

What none of them knew, not even Annelie, or the sisters from Paragon, or Dakota, Jess or Luke, and definitely not Kyle, was the existence of a furnished condo in the far west suburb of Naperville that was sub leased for three weeks under the name Kathy Rambler, or the 1990 Porsche 911 Turbo that was parked in a private garage off Lower Wacker Drive under the same name. That was Trish's escape plan for her and Annelie, should it be necessary. Two carry-on bags rested in what passed for the trunk of the black car, each of which contained two simple changes of clothes, two credit cards, a cell phone, passport and driver's license, and in the bag with the small,red metal tag, an H&K SP5KPDW with an extra magazine.

"It's all in place now," Hank had said as Trish and Annelie were waiting for the helicopter to pick them up and take them to their meeting with the NYPD Commissioner, "past the photos on the passports and driver's licenses, there is nothing to connect it to either of you, and anyone who may find them on their own will just think she looks like Annelie, nothing more."

"Thanks Hank. There's a leak somewhere, and until I find it I'm not taking any chances."

"I won't tell a soul, but you're sure you don't want someone to know?"

"You know. You're someone."

"You know what I mean."

"If it happens, which I hope it doesn't, they'll know exactly what I did and why, and they'll trust me to contact them when it's safe."

"Both phones have three contacts. The one labeled Doreen is a local contact in Chicago if you need a real time resource. She held her own against Logan, so she's no slouch. She set up everything, but knows none of the backstory. You can trust her if you need to. The one labeled Big Blue will reach me. If you need me I can be in Chicago inside an hour."

"Yeah, 'cause that plane never draws attention anywhere when it's traveling at mach 2."

"Just in case."

"Thanks, Hank. Later"


Trish's team, technically Simon's team, was long on protection, but short on investigation. Trish needed someone to go through the list of names that Dakota had provided. Trish, or Simon, also needed a face-to-face with Commissioner Gordon. Hank could have arranged it, but Trish wanted her escape route walled off from everything that might put it in jeopardy.

She could ask Kyle to set it up.

Not happening, Trish thought.

But there may be someone else who can help me, Trish thought as she sat down at the nearest bench and took her cell phone out.

"Hey, you still have a contact in the NYPD?"

"It's Luke's contact, not mine," Jessica said, "I try to steer clear of uniforms. They go against my religion."

"Whatever. I need a favor on the down low."

"What, you want me to lower the cone of silence?"

"Our boat might be leaking," Trish said simply.

Jessica's reply was preceded by two seconds of silence.

"What do you need?"

"I need an introduction to the Commissioner of the Chicago Police Department. And I'm going to send some information on the letters Annelie has been getting. Can you do a little digging? Without involving Kyle?"

"Why not involve Kyle?"

"Because our boat might be leaking."

more silence.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Another moment of silence preceded Jess's reply during which Trish was certain Jess was talking to Luke.

"Okay, we're on it."

"Thanks babe."

"Don't fuck her to the point of exhaustion while you're in the Windy City," Jess said, "she still has to look good on camera."

Trish's mind went back to the look on Annelie's face as the actress looked from Trish to Sara and back again.

"Can't make any promises."


"¿Cuánto tiempo hasta que lleguemos allí?" Trish asked the driver, Mariano.

"Unos diez minutos," he replied.

Heading home, driver says ten minutes, Trish texted to Laurel Lance.

Got it. Dinner's waiting, was the reply Trish read only a few seconds later.

Trish knew she could not keep the information she was carrying to herself and in Annelie's case there was no need, since she had seen the letters already. But for Dakota's analysis, and the list of names that Trish had already photoed and sent to Jess, Trish thought it best to keep those details closer to her chest. It would only upset Annelie to be reminded that someone close to her might have broken her trust, and the Lance sisters didn't need the information to do their jobs.

Maybe Dakota was right. Maybe Kyle kept that info from me for the same reason.

There were too many fucking maybes in this case.