Read Hidden Truths free: the opening chapter

Prague's Echo

The chipped porcelain felt cold beneath Ava’s fingertips. She traced the delicate curve of a Meissen figurine, a shepherdess holding a lamb, its paint faded with age. The gallery was hushed, the only sound the soft click of her boots against the polished wood floors. Prague in November held a specific kind of gray, a weight that settled on everything, and the private collection of Oldřich Veselý did little to dispel it.

Veselý, a renowned historian and collector, was expecting her. He’d reached out through channels Ava hadn’t used in years, a request veiled in polite academic inquiry that didn’t quite mask the urgency beneath. He needed a discreet assessment of his security, a ‘second opinion,’ he’d phrased it. Ava, after a decade of running point for a black ops team dismantled by bureaucracy and bad decisions, was good at assessing security. And even better at finding the holes.

“Ms. Rostova,” a voice, reedy and accented, broke the silence. Veselý was a small man, barely reaching her shoulder, with a shock of white hair and eyes that darted around the room like trapped birds. “You find something to your liking?”

“Beautiful pieces,” Ava said, keeping her gaze on the figurine. She wasn’t admiring the art. She was scanning for pressure plates, infrared beams, anything that didn't belong. “You’ve amassed quite a collection.”

“A lifetime of work,” Veselý said with a sigh. He gestured towards a massive Baroque cabinet filled with porcelain. “Each piece tells a story. A history. I fear that history is…fragile.”

“Fragile how?” Ava finally turned, her eyes meeting his. She didn’t bother with charm. It was wasted on people who lied, or were about to.

“I received a…warning,” he admitted, wringing his hands. “An anonymous message. Someone knows the value of my collection. Someone intends to take it.”

Ava’s gaze swept the room again, lingering on the heavy velvet curtains, the ornate chandeliers, the single guard stationed near the entrance. “And you contacted me instead of the police?”

“The police…they wouldn’t understand. These aren’t just objects, Ms. Rostova. Some of these pieces are irreplaceable. They are linked to…sensitive matters. Matters best kept private.”

Ava suspected the “sensitive matters” weren’t about porcelain. She’d learned to read between the lines during her years in the field. “Let’s start with the layout. Alarm systems. Surveillance.”

Veselý launched into a detailed explanation, rattling off technical specifications and security protocols. Ava listened, but she was already cataloging the weaknesses. The cameras were outdated. The alarm system relied on a single, easily bypassed server. The guard looked bored and underpaid.

---

Two hours later, Ava had completed her preliminary assessment. It was bad. Amateurish, even. Veselý had the money for a state-of-the-art system, but he’d clearly prioritized aesthetics over actual security.

“You’re lucky nothing has happened yet,” she said, standing in his study, a small room crammed with books and antique maps. “This place is a sieve.”

Veselý paced nervously. “I knew it. I felt it. I just didn’t know how…exposed I was.”

“The north window,” Ava pointed to a large casement overlooking a narrow alley. “The lock is corroded. Easily picked. And there’s no sensor on the glass.”

Veselý rushed to the window, examining the lock with trembling hands. “I’ll have it fixed immediately.”

“Do that. And upgrade the server. Encrypt your network. I’ll need access to the security footage from the last week.”

“Of course, of course.”

As Veselý hurried to comply, Ava continued her inspection, her fingers tracing the spines of ancient books. She paused at a volume bound in worn leather, its title etched in faded gold: Alchemica Pragensis. An alchemical text. Unusual for a historian focused on porcelain.

“What’s this?” she asked, pulling the book from the shelf.

Veselý glanced over his shoulder. “An old curiosity. A gift from a colleague years ago. I haven’t had the time to examine it properly.”

Ava flipped through the brittle pages, filled with strange symbols and handwritten notes. It felt…wrong. Like a prop placed deliberately. She ran a gloved finger across the cover, detecting a faint residue. Dust, but not the kind that settled naturally. More like…powder.

“Has anyone else handled this book recently?”

Veselý frowned. “Not that I’m aware of. I haven't touched it in months.”

---

The alarm blared just as Ava was about to question him further. A shrill, insistent wail that cut through the hushed atmosphere of the gallery. Veselý yelped, stumbling backwards.

“What’s happening?”

Ava didn't answer. She moved, reacting on instinct, her body a coiled spring of muscle and reflexes. She drew her Glock 19, the familiar weight settling comfortably in her hand.

The guard near the entrance was down, sprawled on the floor, a dark stain spreading across his uniform. Two figures, masked and dressed in black, were already inside, moving with a practiced efficiency towards the main display cases. They weren’t amateurs.

“Get down!” Ava barked at Veselý, pushing him towards the floor.

The thieves were fast, efficient. They smashed the glass of a display case, grabbing a Fabergé egg and a delicate porcelain clock. One of them turned, his gaze sweeping the room, and his eyes met Ava’s. There was something familiar about his posture, the way he moved. Too controlled, too precise.

Ava fired, a single shot ringing out. The thief ducked, the bullet shattering a nearby vase. She fired again, aiming for his leg. He stumbled, but didn’t fall. He returned fire, bullets ricocheting off the marble floor.

The gallery erupted in chaos. Veselý was whimpering on the floor. Ava returned fire, keeping the thieves pinned down while simultaneously trying to assess their numbers and plan. There were more than two. She could hear movement in the back of the gallery, near the room where she’d examined the security server.

---

A second figure emerged from the shadows, wielding a crowbar. He lunged towards Veselý, but Ava was faster. She tossed a small, weighted object, a ceramic dog from a nearby shelf, striking him in the head. He collapsed, unconscious.

The remaining thief, seeing his accomplice down, abandoned the Fabergé egg and made a run for it. Ava pursued, weaving through the shattered glass and overturned display cases. She cornered him in the alley outside, the cold November air stinging her lungs.

He was younger than she’d expected, maybe early twenties, his face hidden behind a black ski mask. He raised his hands in surrender, but Ava wasn’t buying it. She’d learned the hard way that surrender could be a tactic.

“Don’t move,” she said, her voice flat and dangerous. She kept her gun trained on him, her finger tightening on the trigger.

He lowered his hands slowly. “Look, I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just needed the money.”

“Everyone needs money,” Ava said, her eyes scanning his hands, searching for a weapon. “That’s not an excuse for robbery.”

“I was told it would be easy,” he mumbled. “That the security was a joke.”

“Who told you that?”

He hesitated. “I…I don’t know. Someone just contacted me, offered me a job.”

Ava didn’t believe him. He was holding something back. She moved closer, her grip tightening on her weapon. “Tell me the truth.”

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, grabbing Ava from behind. She reacted instantly, twisting out of the hold and delivering a swift elbow to her attacker’s jaw. He stumbled back, revealing himself to be…Liam Walker. A face she hadn’t seen in five years. A face she’d hoped never to see again.

“Ava?” he said, his voice laced with surprise. “What the hell is going on?”

She stared at him, shock warring with anger. He’d been her partner once, a good one. But he’d also been the one who’d turned her in after a mission went south, saving his own skin while leaving her to take the fall.

“You,” she breathed, her voice dangerously low. “What are you doing here?”

Before Liam could answer, the thief she’d cornered made a break for it, disappearing into the maze of Prague’s narrow streets. Ava glanced back at Liam, her eyes narrowing. She had a feeling this wasn’t just about a stolen collection anymore. And she had a very bad feeling that Liam Walker was somehow involved.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, considering you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Ava said, keeping her voice tight. She holstered her weapon, but her stance remained alert, her body coiled and ready to react. The adrenaline still coursed through her veins, sharpening her senses.

“I could say the same,” Liam replied, rubbing his jaw. “I was getting a drink at the bar across the square when I saw the commotion. Thought I recognized the security setup. This gallery…it’s owned by old man Havelka, right? A friend of my uncle.”

Ava’s skepticism was a palpable force. “Convenient.”

“Just a coincidence,” Liam insisted, holding up his hands. “I was on my way to pay Havelka a social call. Didn’t expect to find a robbery in progress.”

“A robbery that someone apparently tipped off these amateurs to commit,” Ava countered, gesturing to the unconscious thief still lying inside. “They thought the security was a joke. Someone told them that.”

Liam’s expression darkened. “Havelka’s been having trouble with leaks. Internal stuff. He suspected someone on his staff, but couldn’t prove anything.”

“And you just happened to be investigating?” Ava asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No! I swear. I’m just…checking in on an old family friend.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking genuinely frustrated. “Look, five years is a long time. We have history, yeah, but I wouldn’t betray you again.”

The word again hung in the air, heavy and accusing. Ava’s gaze swept over him, searching for any sign of deception. He looked…older. Harder. The boyish charm she’d once found disarming was gone, replaced by a world-weariness that mirrored her own.

“I need to see the security room,” she said, ignoring his explanation. “The server. I was in the middle of reviewing the footage when they showed up.”

Liam hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. Lead the way.”

The security room was a mess. Monitors were shattered, wires dangled from the ceiling, and the air smelled of burnt electronics. Someone had clearly tried to erase the footage. Ava immediately knelt before the server, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She bypassed the damaged system, accessing a backup file.

“Impressive,” Liam said, watching her work. “Still the best in the business, I see.”

Ava ignored him, focusing on the screen. The backup was fragmented, corrupted, but she managed to piece together a few crucial seconds. The footage showed a single figure, cloaked and hooded, disabling the alarm system. The figure moved with a practiced ease, clearly knowing the layout of the gallery intimately.

“Enhance,” Ava instructed, and the image zoomed in on the figure’s hands. They were gloved, but she noticed a distinctive silver ring on the ring finger, a coiled serpent design. It wasn't just any ring. It was a signet ring, belonging to a family with a notorious history in Prague's underworld. The Kovar family.

“The Kovars,” she murmured, her blood running cold. They were known for art theft, smuggling, and a ruthless disregard for anyone who stood in their way. “This is bigger than we thought.”

Liam leaned closer, peering at the screen. “The Kovars? Havelka never mentioned anything about them.”

“He wouldn’t. They operate in the shadows. They are the shadows.” Ava quickly copied the image of the ring to a secure drive. “This thief wasn’t just after the Fabergé egg. He was sent by someone powerful.”

“So, what was the real target?” Liam asked.

Ava scanned the gallery’s inventory list, a digital document she’d accessed on her tablet. The Fabergé egg was valuable, certainly, but it wasn't the most valuable piece in Havelka’s collection. Her gaze stopped on a small, unassuming painting tucked away in a private room, “Prague’s Echo,” a landscape by the relatively unknown Czech artist, Jan Štěpánek.

“That painting,” she said, pointing to the image on her screen. “'Prague’s Echo.’ It’s not well known, but it's rumored to contain a hidden map. A map to a lost collection of medieval religious artifacts.”

Liam whistled. “Now that’s a motive. Old man Havelka’s a bit of a history buff. He’s been collecting those artifacts for years.”

“The Kovars aren’t interested in religious artifacts,” Ava said, her mind racing. “They’re interested in what that map can lead to. Something much more valuable.”

A sudden chime from her tablet interrupted their conversation. It was a message from her contact in Interpol, a man named Janek. ’Ava, we have a name. The man who contacted the thieves. Anton Veselý. Former art restorer. Known associate of the Kovars. Be careful. He’s dangerous.’

Ava swore under her breath. Veselý. The man she’d briefly questioned before the thieves arrived. She'd sensed something off about him, a coldness that had sent a shiver down her spine.

“Veselý,” she said, relaying the information to Liam. “Anton Veselý. He’s the one who orchestrated this.”

“So, he’s the key,” Liam said, his eyes narrowing. “But why stage a robbery? Why not just take the painting?”

“To create confusion,” Ava explained. “To make it look like a simple theft. To throw us off the trail.”

“Us?” Liam raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t pretend you’re not involved, Liam. You showed up a little too conveniently. And you’re conveniently connected to Havelka.”

Liam sighed. “Alright, alright. You got me. My uncle asked me to discreetly check on Havelka. He’d been receiving threats, but didn’t want to involve the police.”

“Threats from the Kovars?”

“He didn’t say. Just…threats.”

Ava studied Liam’s face, trying to gauge his sincerity. She still didn’t trust him completely, but she needed his help. He knew Prague, he knew the Kovars, and he had access to resources she didn’t.

“We need to find Veselý,” she said, her voice firm. “And we need to find out what he’s planning to do with that map.”

“Where do we start?” Liam asked.

“With the gallery’s staff,” Ava replied. “Someone helped Veselý disable the security system. Someone on the inside.”

They spent the next hour interviewing the gallery employees, but they drew a blank. Everyone claimed to know nothing about Veselý or the Kovars. Ava felt a growing sense of frustration. They were running out of time.

As they were leaving the gallery, Ava paused, her gaze drawn to a small, locked cabinet in the corner of the main hall. It hadn’t been disturbed during the robbery.

“What’s in there?” she asked.

Liam shrugged. “Old documents. Havelka’s personal collection. Mostly letters and photographs.”

“Let’s take a look.”

Liam produced a key, and Ava opened the cabinet. Inside, they found stacks of yellowed letters, antique photographs, and a small, leather-bound journal. Ava picked up the journal, her fingers tracing the embossed cover. It was written in Czech, but she recognized the handwriting. It was Havelka’s.

She began to flip through the pages, scanning the text. The journal detailed Havelka’s decades-long search for the lost artifacts, his meticulous research, and his growing fear of the Kovars. The last entry was dated just a few days ago.

’They know. They know about the map. Veselý visited me yesterday, pretending to offer his services as a restorer. I saw the look in his eyes. He wants the painting. And he’ll do anything to get it.’

Ava closed the journal, her heart pounding. Havelka had known he was in danger. He’d tried to warn someone. But it was too late.

She glanced at Liam, her eyes filled with a grim determination. “This isn’t just about a stolen painting anymore, Liam. It’s about a man’s life. And we need to save him before it’s too late.”

The sample ends here.