Page 31 of Sing For Us

I take a seat opposite of them and cross my legs. “What do you have?”

“The subject is Hana, and twenty-one years old. She lives in Sarajevo–” I cut off David.

“Yeah, and I love to wipe my ass three times after I take a piss.” The sarcasm is dripping out of my mouth. “I need the fucking juicy details, and now. I don’t have fucking time.” The men look at each other like wounded animals, but they regain composure by sitting up straight.

“She is going to graduate soon, but is waiting on some papers from her college’s administration.” David is following a list, and this information is crucial. I nod at him to continue.

“The subject is extremely intelligent and loyal, but she only has one family member, and that’s Noa.” I already knew that, but I feel like he is leading up to something good.

“In her younger years, she did ballet. I read reports stating that she was good but lacked the drive and motivation that the other ballet dancers had. But her parents were at every competition and drilled her.” Parents like Hana’s oftentimes force ballet because of their own psychological needs. They are not here, so I can’t write a full psychological report, but based on the information I was given right now, they expected obedience over autonomy. To them, quitting can symbolize failure rather than a normal change in interests. If Hana even got the option of choosing, ever. Status can also be a reason why they did what they did. What also strikes me from the reports is that Hana from a very young age showed interest in computers and the technical side of organizing and strategy.

She wasn’t a physical fighter, or even a sharpshooter. No, she was the one behind the scenes. I haven’t seen any training in any martial arts. This is good. There won’t be any need for physical altercations. The only hiccup is that Hana is intelligent and will sniff out any wrongdoings or a ruse. Not to mention that Noa probably has someone on her tail. Then I remember that Hana told me that she couldn’t work for Noa full-time if she didn’t have her degree yet.

A plan forms in my mind, and it’s time to use that love for education and for her precious cousin against her. The need to prove yourself will always outweigh logic.

I smile and sit back. “Gather ten guards. We are about to do some decorating tomorrow.”

“What?” Emin asks me as he puts his elbows on the table in front of him. I ignore his growing concern.

“I didn’t think I stuttered, did I?”

“No. What else do you need?” Men would be far more useful if they would just shut the fuck up and listen to women.

“I need the home address and background information on the administrator of her college.”

***

It’s the morning of the next day, and it’s a beautiful day. Birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming, and I have a little hacker to catch. But to do that, I need to talk to the administrator. Anel Hegic, forty-one, married with a wife and two kids aged twelve and fourteen, in a nice house in a nice neighborhood. He is a smart man; otherwise he wouldn’t have risen to the top. I have to play this correctly, but I have an ace up my sleeve. I know he abuses his wife and his income is good, but it doesn’t explain how he can live in this nice neighborhood. Yes, his wife has a good job, but nothing indicates that her money is pumped into their shared household. Looking through his bank statements, it seems that he dabbled in shady businesses. Taking money from parents and students to forge grades.

Information is power. But so is a gun.

For a simple job like this one, I like to dress casual—black jeans, white T-shirt and sneakers. Before I left the estate, I ordered David to shut down any transmitters, computers, cameras, and shit like that where Anel lives. That way nothing gets traced back to me. I’m standing in front of his door; my gun with a silencer on it tucked away in the back of my jeans.

I knock, and his wife opens the door. When she opens the door, I am greeted by a welcoming woman in her forties, and I hear his kids in the background. This is amazing; the whole family is here.

“Can I help you?” she asks as she is wiping away flour on her apron.

I smile sweetly at her. “Is Anel Hegic home?” I know that he is.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Ena Hodzic, ma’am. I am an Officer of the Fraud department. We are investigating some irregularities with your husband's accounts.” Her eyes widen, and the door is suddenly wide open. What a stupid bitch, she didn’t even notice that I wasn’t holding a briefcase or anything, for that matter. Desperation makes you do irrational things.

I follow her into their home, and I scan the room. Her two kids are sitting at the kitchen island doing homework, and her husband is watching TV with his feet on the coffee table—lazy dog.

“Sweetheart, Miss Ena Hodzic is here. She is an officer from the Fraud Department.” She has an edge to her voice, and that instantly makes me like her; she is mad at her husband. He stands up immediately and offers me his hand. I decline.

“I won’t be here for long. Is it okay if I sit at the kitchen island? This will be handled quickly, I assure you.” His wife guides me toward the island, and I sit down, close to his kids, who are still doing their homework. Even though they are scribbling down something, I can see their eyes darting to the conversation the adults are having. His wife stands behind their kids, probably sensing the tension while her useless husband stands a couple of meters away from us with crossed arms. He knows something’s amiss.

“How can I help you?” I can see his tongue licking against his teeth in his closed mouth. He is nervous and agitated. I cross my legs and smile sweetly.

“I have sufficient evidence that you have been taking money from parents and students to manipulate grades.” I don’t beat around the bush and get straight to the point. His arms uncross in a second, and he waves them around—God, what a strong man.

“I haven’t done that-“

“Debra Gegic, Sanja Malic, Nedzad Kadzic, Emra Jahic, Gordon Jensen–”

“Stop it!” he screams, and he knows that I know. “How the fuck do you know all of that?”