Page 91 of Johan.

Almost instantly, my phone rings. It’s Hannah.

“Johan, what is all this?” she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern.

“These are the proofs we need to arrest Ludovic for his crimes,” I explain, my voice steady. “You need to talk to Dean Pembroke first thing in the morning. Tell Pembroke to call me. Ludovic is completely roasted.”

She’s silent for a moment, absorbing the gravity of what I’ve just said. I can almost hear her mind racing through the possibilities and implications. “Tell me about the library and the meeting with this dealer,” she finally says, her voice more controlled now, but still tinged with worry.

I take a deep breath, recounting the events slowly. “The library was like something out of a spy novel. Ludovic led me through a secret passage hidden behind a bookcase. It was filled with ancient texts and artifacts, all meticulously organized. He explained that this was the heart of our operation, where we’d finalize our plans.”

Hannah listens intently, the occasional sound of her breathing the only indication she’s still on the line. “And the meeting with Loki?” she prompts.

“That was the real eye-opener,” I continue. “We met in a dimly lit room, and Ludovic conducted the transaction with a level of smoothness that was chilling. He handed over the gold bracelets and the jeweled necklace, all while maintaining this facade of calm professionalism. It was like watching a master at work, but knowing it was all illegal.”

There’s a pause, and then Hannah speaks again, her voice firm. “Johan, I want to see you. Where are you staying?”

“It’s not safe, Hannah,” I protest, the urgency in my voice clear.

“What’s your room number?” she persists, desperation creeping into her tone. “I can be discreet.”

“As much as I want to see you, I’m serious when I tell you it’s not safe. Ludovic is sleeping in the same hotel. If he recognizes you…” I trail off, the potential consequences flashing through my mind.

“Fine,” she says, and I can almost see her biting her lip in frustration. “I’ll show the evidence to the Dean tomorrow morning and ask him to call you right away.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” I say softly, feeling a pang of guilt for putting her in this position. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” she replies, her voice warm despite the situation.

There’s a moment of silence, a shared understanding of the gravity of our situation before she hangs up.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The enormity of what’s to come is daunting, but there’s a sliver of hope now, a chance to bring Ludovic to justice and finally be free. I lie back, letting the exhaustion take over, knowing that tomorrow will be another battle. But for now, at least, I’ve made the first move in this dangerous game.

35

Hannah

I take a deep breath,steeling myself before I enter the university building. The corridors are bustling with students, their chatter a constant background hum, but my mind is focused solely on the task ahead. I head towards the Dean’s office, my steps purposeful, each one bringing me closer to a confrontation that could change everything.

When I reach the office, the secretary looks up from her desk, her expression polite but wary. “Do you have an appointment?” she asks, her fingers poised over the keyboard.

“I don’t, but you may tell him Johan Bentinck sent me,” I reply, my voice steady. “I’m here to say that one of his best friends and school donors is a treasure hunter and a criminal, and I just got the proof.”

The secretary’s eyes widen slightly, but she quickly masks her surprise. She picks up the phone and dials the Dean’s number. “Dean Pembroke, there’s someone here who says you might want to meet her. Her name is Hannah van den Bosch.” She listens for a moment, then nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.”

“You can go in,” she tells me, motioning towards the door.

I walk into the Dean’s office, taking in the room’s stately decor. Shelves lined with books and academic awards, a large mahogany desk at the center, and a portrait of Dean Pembroke hanging on the wall. The Dean himself stands as I enter, extending a hand.

“Hannah van den Bosch, is it?” he asks, his tone curious but measured.

“Yes, Dean Pembroke,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Please, have a seat,” he says, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

I sit down, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. The Dean sits opposite me, his hands folded on the desk, watching me intently.

“I understand you have something important to discuss,” he prompts, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of concern.

“Yes,” I begin, meeting his gaze. “This is about Ludovic Goschen. He’s one of your best friends and a significant donor to the university. Johan Bentinck sent me because we have proof that Ludovic is a treasure hunter and involved in criminal activities.”

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