I carefully examined the bottom of the box and noticed a small, almost invisible button on the very edge. I pressed it, and part of the bottom slid aside, revealing a small secret compartment. Inside was a sheet of paper folded in four.
I unfolded it and saw handwritten text. The handwriting was unfamiliar to me; it wasn’t John’s. Coordinates:
54, 36, 39, 12. Key in the cavity of the upper right third molar.
Encrypted documents. Password. Date of birth (DBO) in alphabetical order.
Account access code. The first five digits after the decimal point of Pi, plus the year of discovery. I reread the text several times, trying to understand its meaning.
Coordinates of a location. Key in a tooth. Encrypted documents.
This all sounded like a spy novel, not the real life of an ordinary supply manager. But John, as I now understood, was no ordinary manager. He led a double life, had several passports with different surnames, and warned of some danger.
Who was he really? A spy? A criminal? Someone hiding from justice or from some shadowy figure? I decided to check the coordinates. I opened the map on the computer and entered the numbers: 54.36 North latitude, 39.12 East longitude.
The map showed a location in the Pennsylvania woods, far from populated areas. A forest or a field. What could be hidden there? And what does this have to do with John and his secrets? The rest of the note was even more mysterious.
Key in the cavity of the upper right third molar. What does that mean? Whose molar is that? John’s? Who wrote the note? And what encrypted documents? Where are they? On the same USB drive I found in the flowerpot? And how to decipher the key? Date of birth: M plus V, in letter order. M. Probably John.
But who is V? And the last part. The account access code. The first five digits after the decimal point of Pi, plus the year we met.
I remembered Pi from school. 3.14159. So, the first five digits after the decimal point.
1, 4, 1, 5, 9. And the year we met? If that’s the year I met John, then it’s 2016. So, the code.
1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 0, 1, 6. But which account was it? John and I had a joint bank account, but I knew the password, and it was completely different. Perhaps there was another account I didn’t know about? The questions multiplied, and the answers still remained elusive.
But there was no time to reflect. John said I was in danger, and while I wasn’t sure I could trust him after everything I’d discovered, his anxiety seemed genuine. Besides, those two men in the cabin seemed very suspicious. I decided to follow John’s advice and go to Cleveland to see the mysterious Aunt Mary.
Maybe there I’ll find Sarah and David. Maybe there I’ll discover the whole truth about John and his secrets. Or maybe there I’ll truly be safe from those who might be chasing me.
I quickly packed the essentials into a small bag and looked back at the apartment. Six years of living within these walls. Six years that turned out to be built on lies.
It was painful to realize this, but even more painful was the uncertainty. What awaits me? Will I ever see this house again? And will I see John? I closed the door and went downstairs. Outside, it was quiet; nothing boded danger.
But after John’s words, I began to get suspicious. It seemed like someone was hiding around every corner, that every passing car was following me. When I arrived at the station, I bought a ticket for the nearest train to Cleveland.
While waiting to board, I looked around nervously, searching for suspicious people. But no one paid any attention to me. Ordinary passengers, busy with their chores.
The train arrived on time, and I sat by the window. When the train pulled away, I finally allowed myself to relax a little. Whatever awaited me in Cleveland, at least I was moving, not sitting at home waiting for an unknown danger to find me.
Familiar landscapes unfolded through the window. The city, gradually replaced by suburbs, then fields, forests, and small towns. A peaceful, ordinary landscape that contrasted sharply with the chaos in my soul.
I thought again about John, about his double life, his secrets. Who was he really? Why did he lead such a strange, divided life? And most importantly: Did he ever truly love me? Or was I just part of a complex game? Looking back on our years together, I tried to find signs that indicated his deception.
Were there moments when he fainted? When his mask fell away, revealing his true face? I couldn’t remember anything specific. John had always been a caring and loving husband. Yes, he had frequent business trips, strange calls, and unexplained absences.
But I attributed all of that to the peculiarities of his job, to his stressful schedule. I never suspected that behind these little oddities lay a whole second life. How did he manage to lead a double life for so many years? How did he divide his time between two families? How did he remember who he told what, what stories he told? It required incredible organization, almost an acting talent.
Or… or my pathological ability to lie. The train arrived in Cleveland in two hours. I stepped off the platform and immediately headed to the taxi stand.
I gave the driver the address: 101 Pushkin Street. The ride took about 20 minutes.
The car stopped in front of a small, one-story house with a neat front yard. Nothing fancy. An ordinary house in a quiet part of a provincial town.
Who lived here? Seriously, one of John’s aunts? And did she know about his double life? I paid the driver, grabbed my purse, and walked to the door. For a moment, I was plagued by doubt. What would I say to the hostess? How would I explain my appearance? But there was nowhere to hide.
I opened the gate and walked up the path to the front door. I took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer. Several seconds passed before the door opened.
On the threshold stood an elderly woman in her 70s, with a kind, wrinkled face and an attentive gaze. “Hello,” I said. “Are you Mary?” The woman nodded, examining me closely. “Yes, it’s me. And who are you?” “My name is Emily,” I replied. “Emily Anderson.”
“I am.” I’m from John’s side.” At the mention of John’s name, the woman’s face changed. Anxiety and alertness flashed in her eyes.
“Come in,” she said quickly, stepping aside and letting me in. “No need to linger on the threshold.” I entered, and Mary immediately locked the door with all the padlocks.
There were at least three of them, which seemed odd for a quiet provincial town. “Follow me,” she said, leading me down a small hallway to the living room. The room was cozy and clean, with furniture that looked unchanged since the Soviet era.
A sofa with a knitted cover, a sideboard with crystal china, a television on a piece of furniture, shelves along the wall. Everything evoked the measured, tranquil life of an elderly woman. Nothing hinted at secrets or dangers.
But my attention wasn’t focused on the interior details, but on the people sitting on the sofa. Sarah and David. They were there, safe and sound.
“Emily!” Sarah exclaimed, leaping up from the sofa. “Thank God you’re here too. We were so worried.”
She came up to me and hugged me tightly, like an old friend. David, a slender teenager with a face that easily resembled John’s features, looked at me with curiosity and some attention. “Do you know each other?” Mary asked in surprise, shifting her gaze from me to Sarah.
“Yes,” Sarah replied. “We met yesterday. Emily.”
She’s John’s wife. The other one.” Mary shook her head.
“Oh, John, John. What have you done?” I sank into an armchair, feeling the tension of the past few days begin to dissipate. At least Sarah and David were safe.
And so was I, it seemed. For now. Tell me what happened,” I asked, turning to Sarah.
“Who broke into the cabin? Why did you run away?” Sarah sat down next to me and began to tell me. After our conversation at the café, I returned to the cabin and told David the truth. Not everyone, of course, omitted some details, but I explained that his father leads a double life, that he has another wife…
David was in shock; he refused to believe it. We talked at length, trying to understand what it all meant. And then, late at night, I found that note in John’s office.
He warned of the danger
