Page 8 of Capuleto

"This is a very exclusive hotel, Mr. Capuleto. I personally select the staff, and I can guarantee that woman is not on our team."

"Could she be an intern or a temp?" He shook his head. "Alright, continue." If she didn't belong to the hotel, it meant she was an outsider lying in wait.

He pressed the button to resume the video. The camera had no sound, but we saw my wife open the door and let her in with total normality. My gut screamed, "Don't let her in," just like you shout at an actress in a movie to run because the killer is there.

Nikita was wearing a bathrobe and appeared calm.

The fake maid never came out. Eighteen minutes later, another person appeared in the hallway. This time it was a man, evident by his height, build, and gait.

He was a tall guy pushing a laundry cart full of towels. His face was obscured by a baseball cap, dark glasses, and his head tilted down enough to hide his features.

He parked the cart next to the door and entered easily, giving it a slight push. The maid must have left it ajar instead of closing it.

"Son of a bitch!" I roared when I saw him come out two minutes later with my wife's body in his arms.

He had his back to the camera. He placed her effortlessly in the cart and covered her with towels. My stomach clenched. I didn't want that bastard to touch her, much less take her away.

Damn it! What had they done to leave her unconscious? Was she okay? Was she still alive?

The mere thought of her being dead was like pulling the pin on a grenade. I felt like I was about to explode at any moment.

The maid walked with a limp. She left with the cart guy, clutching her shoulder in pain. Maybe the blood was hers. I prayed it was.

They disappeared, unhurried, through the same way they had arrived, without raising any suspicion.

I let out another curse and slammed the table again. The director looked at me nervously. He picked up the phone, saying he had a duty to inform the police as soon as possible.

I had already gone mad, lost in a haze where asteroids of guilt and fear struck me mercilessly.

It had to be that damn Chinese woman, for sure! Maybe they had followed us since we boarded the flight in Málaga.

I barely heard the director because I knew the cops wouldn't find shit, and I couldn't waste any more time. I had to find her.

"I want a copy of the footage, right now. I want you to email it somewhere. I'll pay you whatever you ask," I proclaimed, nearly out of breath.

"That goes against the law, Mr. Capuleto. I've already broken one by letting you see the video; I can't break another. The police have to handle this."

I jumped up, grabbed his head, and slammed it against the table. He turned his head to avoid suffocating.

"I am the damn law, and the police can kiss my ass. You're going to do what I say because no one messes with my family or kidnaps my wife and lives. You're either with me or against me. Obey, or consider yourself dead. Your choice."

"Wh-where do you want me to send it?"

"That's better."

5

Sometimes it hurts to know the truth

Abottle and three-quarters of vodka later, I returned to my cabin.

I said goodbye to Yuri in front of his door. He hugged me tightly, and I felt an icy chill swirling down my spine.

"I'm so happy that we're a team again, I've missed you so much, more than you think, Kalinka. Together, we're invincible."

He pressed his lips against mine, as was the tradition in my country, in moments of great joy.

I walked in silence. I thought there were no longer any remains of the bodies, not a trace of blood that would indicate that someone had died there. Ivan and Basile's work was impeccable; those two must already be in the middle of the sea, as Yuri suggested.

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