Chapter 3 – The Stranger

The café on Karlova Street was nearly empty, the kind of quiet space where sound seemed to sink into the walls. A pair of students sat near the window, their heads bent low over textbooks, highlighters scattered like fallen candy across the table. The only other noise came from the espresso machine behind the counter an occasional hiss of steam, a low hum that felt louder than it should have in the near-silence.

Maya pushed the door closed behind her and paused just long enough to scan the room. Habit. Her eyes swept over each table, each face, lingering a second longer on the man by the counter scrolling through his phone, on the woman stirring her coffee too slowly. Nothing obvious, but that didn’t ease the pressure building between her shoulder blades.

She chose the corner booth, the one farthest from the window, her back to the wall, facing the door. Always the door. From here she could see who entered, who lingered, who pretended not to watch. The seat’s cracked leather squeaked under her as she slid in, the smell of burnt coffee and old wood mixing with the faint drizzle of rain that clung to her coat.

Blind meetings had never been her style. She hated the loss of control, the gamble of walking into someone else’s terms. But the anonymous text she’d received an hour ago had been too specific, too sharp, to brush aside:

You want answers about Varga? 9 a.m. Café Klement. Come alone.

She read the words again on her phone, thumb hovering over the screen as if the sender might suddenly reveal themselves. The message had no number, no trail, routed through an encrypted service she recognized but couldn’t crack in time. Whoever had sent it knew what they were doing.

Maya set the phone down, forcing her fingers still. A bead of condensation slid down the side of her untouched glass of water, staining the napkin beneath it. The seconds dragged, her heartbeat keeping time with the old clock on the café wall.

Then, at precisely 9:01, he walked in.

Tall and lean with a tailored black coat clinging to his frame. His gaze swept the café once, sharp and calculating, before locking onto her.

He walked towards her and stopped for a while in front of her before he slid into the seat opposite her without asking.

“Maya Trent,” he said, voice smooth but edged. “You’re either very brave… or very reckless.”

Maya tightened her grip on her cup. “You’re the one who asked for this meeting. Who are you?”

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. A faint scar traced his jawline, disappearing under his collar. “Name’s Damian Cole. Former intelligence. I worked with Elias Varga before he disappeared.”

Her pulse skipped. “So the emails, the notes that was you?”

He shook his head. “No. That wasn’t me. But whoever left them… they want you off this trail. Which means you’re on the right one.”

Maya studied him carefully. There was a confidence about him, but his eyes steel grey hid something she couldn’t read.

“What do you know about Varga?” she asked.

Damian lowered his voice. “He built something called The Silent Cipher. Not just a code, not just an algorithm. It can break through any encryption on earth. Military. Financial. Even nuclear command systems. No firewall can stop it.”

Maya swallowed hard. “And it disappeared with him.”

“Exactly.” He leaned back, scanning the café. “Governments want it. Corporations want it. Criminal networks want it. And they’ll kill anyone who gets close.”

Her mind raced. “So where do I come in?”

Damian’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Because Varga trusted journalists more than politicians. If he left a trail, he left it for someone like you Not spies, Not soldiers, You!”

Before she could respond, the bell above the café door chimed.

A man entered. Heavy coat. Cap pulled low. He didn’t order anything just scanned the room, eyes settling briefly on them.

Damian’s posture stiffened. “We’ve been followed.”

Maya’s breath caught. “What do we do?”

He rose smoothly, tossing cash on the table. “We leave. Now.”

\* \* \* \*

The streets outside were slick with rain, the sky a dull silver. Damian guided her quickly through a side alley, his hand firm on her shoulder.

“Who was that man?” Maya asked.

Damian didn’t answer. He only glanced over his shoulder once, eyes narrowing.

Finally, he said, “That was a Helix Order scout.”

Maya frowned. “Helix Order? Who the hell are they?”

Damian looked at her, his expression grim.