A risky choice

He felt exhausted, both because of the late hour of the night and because of the agitation of the day. The rain made a significant contribution to his nervousness.

It was three-ten. The rain stopped, but lightning continued to illuminate the flooded streets of one of the Bucharest neighborhoods.

What bothered him most was the fact that Cristian's name was beginning to be used in the context of a conspiracy.

It was inconceivable.

Cristian Popa, a taciturn man, with stable roots in police, and more. The living expression of the fighter. Chief of Division 10, the youngest the organization had ever had.

To associate him, no matter how vague, with the world of arms trafficking was unbelievable. It was beyond any rational understanding that Cristian was part of a group like that.

The explanation had to be somewhere in Cristian's immense penchant for compassion. He was a friend of many, a hopeful refuge for those in serious trouble. And under his placid, beautiful, unperturbed face, Cristian was a strong man, a true leader.

Vlad quickly grabbed the keys from the hanger by the entrance, the umbrella, and hurried to Cristian's house.

He turned the corner and saw the new headquarters of the police, in a house with white walls and blue shutters, a few blocks from Cristian's house.

Walking along the street, Vlad reached Victory Stree.

Apart from the street lights, the only light came from one of the windows of Christian's house. Had he forgotten a light bulb the day before? He didn't remember. He had been there during the day to get some documents and ventilate the place.

When he reached the door of the house, he put the key in the lock. He failed to open on the first try, but on the second. Simultaneously with the sound of the keys, there was a loud crack inside. Although surprised, his first reaction was amusing. He was thinking of the disaster in the house because of his stupidity in leaving the window open. The storm that night must have done some damage. The wind had probably overturned glass or vase on the nearby table. Then he realized that such a thought was ridiculous, the result of a tired mind. The crack had been too loud.

Vlad ran into the first hall, and what he saw drove away any trace of exhaustion. He was stunned, unable to believe his eyes.

The apartment had been devastated. The table was overturned; books taken off the shelves, pages torn and scattered on the floor. The pillows on the couch were split, the carpet tightly piled up.

He also saw where the crack had come from. The large window on the street wall was torn to pieces.

He searched and, therefore, the breaking of the window had not been caused by rain. It had been intended. It was a warning or they were looking for something very important and valuable in Cristian's house.

Vlad knew he could not report this disaster. For, in doing so, it would have meant confirming the suspicions, that Cristian had connections with dangerous people; and he wasn't ready to do that.

He hurried to the bedroom door and peered inside. Although it seemed impossible, the clutter in the bedroom was greater than in the living room. All the office drawers lay on the floor, the files scattered throughout the room. The clothes were piled next to the closet. The only ones intact were the watch boxes and other jewelry.

Those who entered had not been interested in money or jewelry.

The reason was clear.

Vlad shook off the apathetic numbness that had taken over his mind and body. He looked at the living room once more; he researched it in detail. The windows had no blinds, and the light was enough for a person with strong binoculars, hidden in an adjoining building, to observe every movement. Or maybe a sniper.

If he had turned off the lights the day before.

Everything cleared in his mind, a click.

He had to get to the bathroom, which at that time became the most important room in the apartment. He knew where Cristian used to put his important things.

Vlad put his hand on the doorknob and looked at the mess. His tired blue eyes fell to his feet. Notice the drops of blood dripping on the floor. Following their direction, noticed the cut on his index finger.

He went into the bathroom, opened the first aid kit in the closet, and took a box of plastic tape from the glass shelf. He then leaned over quickly and pulled out the toilet bowl lid, where the mysterious box inlaid with precious stones was. His thought had been right. That was why the house had been vandalized.

The question was why. The stones were not true, they were of an impeccable falsehood. The contents were of little value either, only some photos and a divorce paper.

Vlad wondered what were the causes of the removal. He felt guilty. He looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He went back to the living room and tore the package off the plaster roll. He leaned against the back of the couch and rested his head on his back. He wanted to calm down for a few moments. After about ten minutes, he went to the phone and called the police. 

- Can you make me a list of missing items? A uniformed policeman was sitting in the middle of the devastated living room. The second policeman was walking around the apartment, noting his observations. 

- I'm not sure yet. I didn't get a chance to check. 

- Explainable. It's a real disaster here. However, you might want to take a look. The sooner, the better. 

- The watch and jewelry collection are intact. Some of the books would have brought good money too, but here's what they look like. 

- What about important documents? 

- Christian Popa lived here, not me. He is... 

- We know who it was. 

The policeman wrote something in a notebook and shouted at his colleague, who had gone to the bedroom. 

- Hey, what did the fingerprint section say?

- They will come soon.

- Did you touch anything, Mr.?

I do not know. It's possible. It was a real shock. The third policeman, who had recently arrived behind the others, was walking from one room to another, showing no interest in what had happened there.  - It would be nice if we could show the forensic scientist some things you didn't touch. 

- The drops of blood are mine. I touched some stuff in the bedroom. 

-  Good. We have a place to start. The bedroom for the first time. The police lingered for two hours. The forensic specialist came, did his job, and left. 

 Several of the neighbors had woken up and come, offering their help or bringing coffee. Unfortunately, no one had heard or seen anything suspicious that night. 

- Thank you, gentlemen, for helping me put things right.

 - Do not mention it. 

The last policeman to arrive was on the cement driveway, then turned. Oh, Mr. Vlad! 

- Yes? Vlad opened the door again. 

- It occurred to us that maybe someone was looking for something. You know, with all the valuables intact, with all the broken and scattered ones, with the torn books and the others... You understand, don't you?

 - Yes. 

- I think you would have told us if it were, wouldn't you?

 - Of course! 

- Yes. It would be foolish to hide such information. 

- I'm not stupid. Vlad raised an eyebrow, visibly irritated by the policeman's words. 

- No offense. But sometimes the people of police are more confused and forget certain things. 

- Correction! I'm not part of the police. Nor do I agree with you. 

- Of course. The policeman smiled somewhat mockingly. I just wanted to bring this up. I mean, you know, we can't find the culprits if we don't know all the facts, right? 

- I understand. 

- Good. 

- Good night! 

When Vlad closed the door, the blond policeman set foot in the house. 

-I forgot to send you my condolences.

 The policeman's words had been accompanied by an ironic smile.

- Thank you! 

- Goodbye! Vlad closed the door and went to the living room. It was still a mess, the search had been thorough. Why? By whom? There was no doubt that the object of the "search" had been the box in the toilet bowl. Even so, it did not contain things of great importance. Cristian certainly kept valuables and objects in a special place, but not at home. It wasn't stupid. He had been the head of the special police team. He could not commit such recklessness. 

Vlad lay down on the hard-to-recognize couch. He had to sleep

for a few hours; then he would start the investigation.