Trickle Down

By T. E. Wade

Someone is killing billionaires and making a fortune in the market.
Interpol cybercrime analyst Elise Werner is on the case. As an off-the-charts genius, the assassins should be worried.
She quickly gets onto the dark web money laundering trail but soon realizes that sometimes the hunter becomes the hunted. As her anxiety grows, she knows she must manage her addictions before spiraling into another meltdown.

Hanuni knows she is in the top ranks of hackers, probably the best lone-wolf hacker in the world. But from the moment she hacked into Elise's life, she fell in love. Is there such a thing as love-at-first hack? She is now desperate to protect Elise from her assassin network and knows she must move fast. 

Ainsley vowed to change the world, one dead rich prick at a time. But how can he trust Hanuni now she has lied about that cursed German girl? 

Ewa is afraid of losing Elise to Michael, but now she is afraid for Elise's life. The case went from routine to dangerous almost overnight. She will do everything in her power to protect her, even putting her own safety on the line.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. E. Wade
• Release date: Feb 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215398982

T. E. Wade

I'm an Australian-based author with a preference for speculative fiction. My ambition is to create stories across multiple genres and so far I have written Sci-fi, Supernatural, and international Crime mysteries. I'm now having a go at an Urban Fantasy story based right here - on the left- round the corner from where I live. Having lived in five different countries, my stories take place across the world, and some even venture out into the galaxy. But they always return, because the really interesting stories are about quirky people getting involved in dangerous situations, right here on good old planet Earth.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

LONDON - ENGLAND: LATE JUNE 2022

Her chest burns from exertion. She can’t remember running this far or this fast, but now she is running for her life. The sound of her breathing is too loud. She tries to breathe through her nose to silence it, even tries holding it, but it doesn’t help.

She crouches behind a car and thanks the gods for the rain and background noise it provides. She watches, listens, peers around the side of the car. It is large, an SUV of some sort. 

No sign of him.

She edges out onto the pavement and runs away from the scene on tiptoes, away from death and danger, or so she thinks, until she looks up, to her left, there he is, carefully aiming, she ducks, instinctively, falling to her knees, not seeing the flash of the silenced weapon, the only sound a buzzing as the bullet tears through the air and a clunk as it hits the vehicle behind her. She crawls away furiously, seeking cover of the parked cars once more.

How far away is he? Eighty metres, possibly less, but higher up, he has the advantage.

She sits on the road, back against the wheel of the parked car, this one smaller than the SUV, providing less cover. She must move now.

A quick peak. He is gone. She stands, runs almost doubled over, across the road, through a gap in the stone wall and down a long staircase to the street below, then she turns right and sprints back to the scene of the attack, something he may not consider.

After running for thirty seconds, perhaps more, she turns again, down towards the river, then right, and stops. Using a white van for cover, she peers up and down the street. No sign of him.

A minute passes, then another. Her heart rate settles, breathing eases, her chest no longer burning. Is he gone? Is it over?

She looks again, nothing, so she steps onto the pavement and walks, keeping close to the wall. The busy intersection looms ahead, sanctuary at last, away from quiet streets, almost there. But then, he steps out from between two vehicles, close, too close to run, too close to miss.

He raises the gun, holding it in both hands, smiling.

This is it! All for nothing.

Then a shout. Hey, you, stop!

He flinches, turns to look, turns back, and fires.

In the split second of his turn, she dives left between two vehicles, but still feels an impact as the bullet hits her, somewhere high on her right.

His shot is silent, but two other shots ring out and he staggers forward, then runs past her position, turning to try one more shot at her, but two more loud shots ring out and he falls, unmoving.

Elise looks up at the dark, rainy sky in the gap between the two vehicles.

Footsteps approach, running, and then a face, a welcome sight.

Shit Elise, are you all right?

No, I’m hit.

James bends over her, pulls back her jacket, sees it is not life threatening, so he pulls out his phone and dials, dead calm, as ever. 

Yea, me. Get an ambulance over quick, urgent, gunshot injury. He looks around, getting his bearings. Maldar Street, near number forty-five. Oh, yeah, there’s a body. Get that back to the morgue.

He hangs up, pulls back her jacket again, then her top. Grimaces, pulls out a clean handkerchief, placing it over the wound. You’ll be fine. Might be a through and through, high up, some bleeding. There’ll be a nice scar, something to brag about. He is trying to downplay the situation, reassure her. 

It hurts. Can you get me up? I’m getting wet. 

He pulls her up gently, holding her left arm, his other arm around her back.

Ow, my back. She staggers slightly, almost faints.

Okay, I’ve got you, he says, holding her up.

Sorry… I, uh… I need to sit down, it’s… it’s, uh… I’m so… it’s too much. Tears are running down her face, and she looks sick, in pain and in shock.

She hears the siren approaching, feels relief it is nearly over, her first brush with death.

She looks across to the body. It is gone!

James, where is he? she gasps, staggering again.

What? How the hell did he…. He leans her against the car and moves forward, looking between the cars and up and down the road. The assassin’s firearm lies where he fell, but there is no sign of him.

The ambulance arrives, and they step towards it. James with one hand on his gun and the other holding her up.

She almost collapses into the arms of the ambulance officers as they help her into the vehicle. Then she lies back, feeling woozy. The last thing she remembers is the concerned face of a woman checking her wound.

CHAPTER TWO

BERLIN - GERMANY: JULY 2021

Mary is the perfect assassin. Her diminutive height, advanced age, and plain features make her almost invisible, unmemorable in every way. This is an impressive feat as, without her matronly disguise, Mary is an attractive forty-two-year-old woman.

She has no martial arts training, is not athletic in any way, and has never used a firearm in her life. But she is one of the Buyer’s most effective assassins.

Her role is quite simple, but requires weeks of planning and preparation. Eight weeks in, as a maid at the upmarket hotel frequented by one of Europe’s wealthiest men, she is finally in a position to service his room. She immediately relays the message through appropriate channels and two days later the Buyer gives her the go ahead.

The Media Mogul’s weekly visits are of a carnal nature. Each Thursday, he stays in the hotel’s best suite and is entertained by Melissa, his favourite high-class escort. He is in his late seventies and has a well-known heart condition. 

Mary has three tubes of toothpaste, each identical to the brand she finds in the Mogul’s bathroom. After emptying a small amount from his used tube, she uses another to inject the same amount back, this one tainted with a poison extract of an exotic relative of Oleander.

Later that night, after ensuring she is the on-call cleaner, they summon her in response to an urgent situation. A hysterical young woman has called the front desk in panic as her ‘friend’ has been taken ill.

Given the Mogul’s high stature and the hotel’s reputation, the night manager, along with the security guard and Mary, attend the scene before the ambulance. Their major concern is to find and remove any evidence of wrongdoing.

She glances at the naked corpse lying on his back, eyes open as if staring at the ceiling. Someone has covered his private parts with a towel. 

Check the bathroom Mary, make sure you remove anything incriminating. You know, drugs and so forth, the night manager orders her. She responds immediately and removes the tainted toothpaste tube and replaces it with one of her spares, prepared earlier to appear used.

The ambulance arrives, followed shortly by the police. Mary stands back in her invisible manner and inwardly smiles as she watches the night manager try his best to protect the hotel’s reputation, vociferously denying any knowledge that an obvious sex worker is plying her trade in his hotel, with one of Europe’s wealthiest men.

A twenty-two-year-old woman with a seventy-six-year-old man. You honestly expect me to believe she’s his wife? She’s young enough to be his granddaughter. Who do you think you’re kidding? The police officer berates the manager. 

Mary takes this as her queue to leave and quietly slips away as they argue. On her way out, she catches another glimpse of the young escort’s mascara streaked face as she is interviewed by a female police officer. She really does look young enough to be his granddaughter, she thinks, suddenly feeling even more justified at bringing on the pigs’ early demise.

The Buyer’s phone beeps. He picks it up and notes a message flag on his secure messaging app. Opening the app, he reads the single word message, ‘Done.’

He smiles. Well done Mary, ever reliable, he thinks, as he deletes the message without replying, She will not expect one.

He selects another contact and keys in his own confirmation message, ‘Berlin complete.’ He presses send and deletes the message, knowing it will self delete from all intermediate servers within three minutes. The Sponsor will be pleased, he thinks, as he puts down the phone. He does not expect a reply.

SONDERBADEN - GERMANY: AUGUST 2021

Much like Mary, Hans is also a perfect assassin, medium height and weight, with plain features, no air of danger, no aura of seduction. He will never get the leading part in a spy drama, but in real life he has the one thing real assassins need - invisibility.

The restaurant is pleased to have him. His knowledge of wine is perfectly adequate and his skill as a waiter is just right. His references are impeccable, and he does not quibble about the paltry pay.

Six weeks is all it took to learn the patterns of the exclusive guests, and throughout those weeks he makes sure his performance is so utterly satisfactory that no-one will even remember his name, a month from now.

The Industrialist is famous in the village and his habits are predictable, typical of a man comfortable within himself and familiar in his surroundings.

Hans finds the Buyer’s information to be precise and accurate to the finest detail, including the target’s demeanour, his daily patterns, the company he keeps, right down to who he will have dinner with on Wednesday night. The powder provided by the Buyer is in three doses, but only one is needed. The others are just in case.

An early opportunity arises as the target orders a single glass of wine, a perfect situation, foregoing the need to perform sleight-of-hand while pouring at the table. A hidden catch in his wristwatch allows him to dispense the tasteless powder, and a plastic straw provides the stirring mechanism, but is hardly needed.

Thank you, Hans, says the Industrialist. My favourite Australian Syrah. Good man. Salut. He holds up the glass and is joined by his daughter and her husband, along with his long-suffering and subservient wife.

Forty-five minutes, the buyer said, and he was accurate to within a minute as, forty-four minutes later, the Industrialist breaks out in a sweat and clutches his chest.

The powdered Oleander extract is fast acting and hard to trace, even if they order an autopsy, though unlikely, given his well-known heart condition. Following bypass surgery, his cardiologist grimly warned that his lifestyle would lead to an early grave.

You have one foot in the coffin and the other on a banana skin, my old friend, was his cardiologist’s parting comment, something the Industrialist laughed about with his friends on poker nights.

Even with the intervention of a fortuitously nearby doctor, a fast arriving ambulance, and repeated attempts at resuscitation, the inevitable finally happened. 

The politically astute police officers carefully and quickly interview the family members and restaurant staff until finally, the daughter and her husband escort their distraught mother out of the restaurant.

The region’s wealthiest man has reached the end of his road. Many will miss and mourn him, but it isn’t long before his four children start thinking about how they will spend their significant inheritance.

The Buyer is about to make a call when the secure message app shows a flag. He opens the app and smiles as he sees the single word, ‘done.’

Good man Hans, he thinks, as he compiles his own message to the Sponsor, ‘Sonderbaden complete.’

He deletes both messages, then remembers to make his call, upgrading his escort service to Diamond Plus. After all, with good news like this, it is well deserved.

CHAPTER THREE

SONDERBADEN - GERMANY: EARLY MAY 2022

She smiles as she picks up the paper. How long has it been? Three, maybe four years since she read anything other than a screen. Laptop, tablet, mobile phone, but never an old newspaper.

She sits with her back to the counter, alternating her focus between the paper and people walking by. Coffee arrives, and she sips while becoming engrossed in local news.

Sonderbaden is a beautiful little spa town, perched on a small range at the edge of the Black Forest, just off the beaten track enough to avoid the damage of over-tourism, according to Stefan.

It will do you wonders Elise, she remembers him saying. Get away from your beloved computers for a couple of weeks and live in the real world. You’ll see. The headaches will stop, and you’ll get some real sleep.

He is right, of course. She works long hours, and for most of them, peering into a screen, and his theory is proving correct. It’s her fifth day and last night she slept right through and had no headaches for the past three days.

Surprisingly, the newspaper is a revelation. The town and surrounding region is experiencing an economic boom of sorts, and in a country still limping out of a pandemic-induced downturn.

She reads further and discovers an unusual amount of development activity, most driven by three members of a local family, all offspring of the late Anders Volkstraat. She thinks back to his death, perhaps a year, or maybe nine months ago, natural causes, she recalls. A heart attack over dinner in his favourite restaurant.

After twenty minutes she puts down the paper, having read the entire thing, adverts and all. The joys of an off the charts IQ, eidetic memory and two degrees. She sighs. You think too much, my dear, she can hear her late mother saying. 

Another walk, her second today, with no headaches and a new level of fitness, exactly what Stefan ordered.

It is week two, and she is on the edge of getting bored. The mountain walks are amazing and three days at the Yoga retreat help with the twinge in her back, but now she is back at the village and off for a full day guided tour. It is great, and the tour pushes back the impending boredom for a few hours. It is a small tour, just five on their little bus, two older couples who sat towards the back allowing Elise to sit up front and be charmed by Jonas, their confident and fast talking tour guide and driver.

It is a fantastic day. Short scenic walks, mountain streams, even waterfalls, then later, lunch, wine tasting and a chance to get to know Jonas even more while the wine tour operator takes the older couples under her wing and plies them with enough wine to make a sizeable sale.

Meanwhile, Jonas entertains her with his wit and convinces her to have dinner with him that night. 

Dinner is nice, and the evening is relaxing for Elise. As a natural introvert, she prefers others to do the talking, and Jonas is perfect as he fills the air with words.

He is slim, good looking, and makes her laugh. The perfect formula for Elise, who prefers women but enjoys men who are not too assertive in their masculinity.

So, what do you think of the restaurant, Elise? he asks.

She always speaks her mind bluntly, even more so when drunk. It’s fine. Fantastic even, but mostly I like the company. She smiles as he blushes. I’m only here for two days Jonas, no time to be shy, and to be honest, what I like about this restaurant most is that it is close to my room upstairs.

He blushes again as she takes his hand. You’ve been a great tour guide, but now I need something else from you.

As they fall into her hotel bed that night, she becomes aroused quickly, not having been with anyone for almost nine months and not with a man for over five years.

He is slightly older, about forty, she thinks, to her thirty-three. A respectable age gap. 

He surprises her with his experience and gentle touch and she wakes in the morning feeling more relaxed and happier than she has in months.

Sex with a man after all these years! She would not have believed it herself just days ago.

Her brief liaison with Jonas is nice, two nights in a row, but the last three days of her break are for pre-booked accommodation, just out of town at a mountain top spa that Stefan recommended as the best in the region. So far, his advice has been good.

She parks in front of the building and is surprised at how small it is, expecting a large spa complex. This appears little more than a small family hotel, although its chalet style is quaint and appealing, and it sits comfortably within a beautiful forested backdrop.

Hallo, welcome to Hochbad Spa Hotel. Can I help with your bags? The voice rings out as soon as she steps out of her hire car.

Elise looks towards the hotel entrance, from where the voice came, and a tall, strong looking blond woman steps out of the door. For a moment Elise freezes, then realises her eyes are deceiving her. The woman looks so much like her ex that she almost thinks it is, but the woman is taller, older, and has a smile that almost splits her face in two. Sophie never smiled like that.

The woman rushes down the stairs and almost snatches Elise’s bag from her hand, and goes around to the rear of the car. Open the boot please and I will take your bags. She has some sort of accent and her voice is commanding, and she has a staccato way of talking, but in a friendly way, so Elise just does as she is told and pulls the catch, popping the boot.

The woman reaches in, effortlessly lifts out her bag, and bounds up the stairs towards the entrance.

Follow me, please. I will check you in.

Elise follows, mesmerised by the confident friendliness of this amazing woman. She steps up to the hotel counter, almost disoriented.

Now you must be Elise Werner, my only booking for this morning. Am I correct?

Elise nods, slowly retreating into her introvert shell.

And has your holiday been good so far?

Uh, yes, very nice thanks. I… uh, yes, very good. She suddenly realises her heart rate is raised, and she feels almost breathless, struggling to speak. Just like the first time she met Sophie.

Are you alright? You look pale. The accent is clipped, terse, perhaps Russian.

She nods again. I just need to lie down for a while, I think. I’m feeling a little faint.

Okay, I am Ewa, your hotel manager. I will take you to your room and we can complete the formalities later if you like.

I, uh, no, it’s okay. I can do it now. She pulls out her credit card and ID, pushes them over, and quickly signs the paperwork.

Okay, good. Come, follow me. Ewa sweeps up the bags and leads the way, with Elise trailing behind, slowly overcoming her moment of disorientation. 

She watches as Ewa strides ahead, carrying her bags as if they weigh nothing. The similarities mesmerise Elise. She is tall, probably one point eight metres, and strongly built, athletic, almost muscular. Her hair is pure natural blond, striking blue eyes and high cheekbones, wide eyes. Classic Slavic appearance.

Ewa has already opened the door to her suite, and it is fantastic, almost a small apartment with an amazing bathroom, enormous bed, fantastic view. It is all so much to take in.

Elise sits on the bed, heart still pounding. I’m sorry if I seem a little strange, she says. I’m just a bit disoriented. You remind me so much of someone that I’ve been taken by surprise a bit.

Ewa smiles again, her gorgeous face splitting smile. Someone nice, I hope?

Elise smiles, a sentimental look crosses her face. My ex, nine months ago.

Ewa steps forward, takes her hand. I’m so sorry, you still have feelings for her then?

Elise nods sadly.

Well, I’m sorry. I will leave you for a while. I have things to do, but when you are ready, you can come down and I will get you settled into the spa facilities. They are small but the staff are friendly, and a hot spa bath followed by a massage from Helga will work wonders, I guarantee it.

Thank you, Ewa, I’ll come done in an hour or so.

Elise watches her walk away, mesmerised once more by the similarities, even the way she walks.

The spa facility is wonderful, and Ewa is right. The spa bath is fantastic, and Helga’s hands are strong as she manipulates Elise’s aching muscles. She didn’t realise how much exercise she’d been getting with all the mountain walking. This spa is just what she needs to cap off a fantastic holiday.

The place is almost eerily quiet. That night in the bar, after a fantastic meal in the adjacent restaurant, Ewa explains. We had a very large booking, an unexpected surge of sorts, but then they cancelled at the last minute, so I gave a lot of the staff time off. You can see, I am doing everything from reception to barmaid.

You do it all so well, though. Is this your hotel?

No, I run it for the Russian owners. They wanted someone they could trust to take care of it.

Oh, so you are Russian?

Yes, couldn’t you tell from my accent?

Elise laughs. Well, I thought I could detect something, but wasn’t sure.

So, tell me about your ex, who is like me.

Elise laughs again, feeling a little drunk, her natural inhibitions falling away. Well, she’s tall and gorgeous like you. But doesn’t have your sexy smile. She suddenly blushes, realising she is flirting, embarrassed now, as Ewa also blushes. Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve had too much to drink. I, uh… She runs out of words.

Ewa reaches out, takes her hand. No apology needed. Thank you for the compliment. I don’t get many. She holds on to her hand for long enough to show more than just friendliness. Would you like another drink, Elise? Ewa’s voice is flirty now.

The bar is empty. They have the place entirely to themselves. Ewa takes out two shot glasses, places them on the bar, and pours a black, syrupy liquid into each. She comes around from behind the bar, sits facing Elise, pushes one glass aside, and lifts the other. A tasting game from my home village in Russia. She tosses the drink back, holds it in her mouth, then swallows. Then, to Elise’s surprise, she puts one of her large hands around Elise’s head, pulls her forward, and gives her a long, passionate kiss. They separate. You taste that?

Elise smiles and nods. Black Sambuca, she replies, gasping with pleasure at the sensation of the kiss and the taste. 

Ewa hands her the other glass. 

My turn? 

Ewa nods.

Elise throws back her drink, then stands and puts both of her hands behind Ewa’s head and gives her an even longer kiss. She slides her hands down over Ewa’s magnificent shoulders, then her arms, until finally she holds her hands. Your room or mine?

Oh, definitely mine.

You seem so sure.

Ewa smiles knowingly. You will see why.

The train from Stuttgart to Berlin gives her time to reminisce about the holiday. It has been the best holiday of her life. No, she thinks, as she stares at the scenery whizzing by. It is more than that. This holiday has been a turning point in her life, a cathartic release of sorts. 

She realises now that she was drowning in a sea of depression, pining for a lost love. But in fact, her pining was for losing a comfortable normality, a fake normality, a life of emotional co-dependence she grew accustomed to, but not one she should have accepted for so long.

Sophie had been controlling, always setting the scene, saying what they should do, how they should act, who they should see, and even politically, who they should support. Sophie’s desire for children dominated her life, dominated their conversation, became the all-consuming theme of their relationship. And when Elise refused to give in, Sophie just walked away, made worse because Sophie walked straight into another relationship, within days of leaving, and only weeks later there was talk of a pregnancy. A sure sign, Elise knew, of betrayal. Sophie had clearly been unfaithful. How else to explain such a quick transition to a new and seemingly serious relationship?

Elise was destroyed. Her Asperger’s condition didn’t help her cope with the loss, as she descended into a pit of despair, a descent so bad that her beloved work was affected, and Stefan watched it all happen.

She smiles at that thought. Stefan watched her decline and knew she needed a circuit breaker. Had he set up this entire holiday to lift her out of the pit? No, he couldn’t have known how things would work out. Surely not? But he knew her well, since she was a child, and had looked after her in the past when her world fell apart.

Did he know Ewa? He knew Sophie, having met her on many social occasions, so he would have seen the similarities, but surely he didn’t plan this?

She shakes her head. No. He is not that devious. But who cares? It worked. Ewa changed her life.

She thinks back to that first night and became aroused as she remembers what they did together.

At first their love making was normal, but an amazing normal. After an hour, they paused. She went through to the bathroom and when she returned, Ewa is standing next to her large built-in wardrobe, wearing an amazingly kinky outfit.

So far, things have been very calm and placid. I want you to know, she announces, as Elise walked back into the room and slipped into bed. But now we go to the next level.

Elise stares at her, wide eyed and puzzled. Calm and placid! It didn’t feel that way. In fact… She stops talking as Ewa flings open the double doors to one half of the wardrobe.

This, she announces. Is Ewa’s Candy Shop.

Elise drew in her breath sharply, shocked at the sight before her. She has never seen so many sex toys in one place before. There are dildos of every shape, size and colour and a range of strap on devices she never even knew existed. There are other devices she’d never seen in her entire life and could not readily imagine their use. Clearly her sex life with Sophie has been pedestrian at best.

And this, Ewa proclaims before Elise can recover from the first shock. Is Ewa’s house of pain. She flings open the second set of doors and Elise gasps at a sight that would give even the Marquis de Sad palpitations.

Oh god, please, no. Close that one, Ewa. I am not a BDSM girl.

Ewa bows her head in consent and gently closes the doors and makes a point of turning the key. She looks disappointed but does not argue. Elise quickly feels the need to make a positive comment.

But your candy shop looks interesting.

Ewa smiles and nods as she selects two items that make Elise both nervous and excited.

Let’s see if these will work for you, she says, as she approaches the bed seductively.

Elise suddenly realises that the memory of that night is turning her on and quickly looks around but there is nobody in this section of the train, thankfully, as she has unconsciously crossed her legs with her hand sitting in far too comfortable a position.

That first night was amazing and the second even better, but by their third and last night, she became relaxed and trusting enough with Ewa to allow her to reopen that second set of doors. And she can still feel the marks Ewa left on her small, tender thighs.

She was amazed at herself and wondered what the future might hold now that Ewa broke the spell of her failed relationship. Five years of monogamy, then nothing for nine months, and now this. Sex with two people in the space of five days, with a man and a woman, and the last three days were like nothing before. She sighs and thinks dreamily of Ewa once more.

CHAPTER FOUR

NEAR PARIS - FRANCE: SEPTEMBER 2021

The helicopter is a magnificent machine and Francois almost feels bad that his actions will destroy it, a feeling he does not share for the people who will go down with it. Excluding the pilot perhaps, but he rationalises this away through the belief