Today

  As Niko sat in his cramped Singapore apartment, reviewing forecast data on his laptop, his phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number.

  The police are on their way. Leave now.

  He stared at the phone, heart pounding. It wasn’t the first time he had been messed with, but shouldn't he at least check under the current circumstances? He quickly typed back, Who is this?

  A moment later, another message arrived. This time, it contained a copy of a yet-to-be-published news article, implicating him in Edmunsson’s death. He looked at the story in panic—it was that idiot Mark Davies again, the same journalist who’d hassled him before. What was happening?

  Niko’s stomach twisted as he took in the words. He stared at the message, trying to comprehend its implications. Was it a prank? Or a tip-off? No time to overthink. Murphy’s Law had always been his motto—if something can go wrong, it will. Better to be prepared. He grabbed a small backpack, stuffing it with his laptop, whatever cash he had in the house, and a few clothes. His mind raced through possible escape routes as he bolted out the door.

  Once he exited his apartment, Niko was immediately greeted by the distant wail of sirens. Panic surged through him. He knew he had only minutes before the authorities arrived. His apartment was on the fifteenth floor of a modern high-rise, with tight security and surveillance cameras at every corner. He cursed the same technology he had once found reassuring, knowing it now worked against him.

  His first thought was to take the elevator, but he quickly dismissed it. Elevators were traps—too slow, too predictable. Instead, he opted for the stairwell. As he dashed down the stairs, his footsteps echoed loudly, each feeling like a ticking clock, counting down to his capture. Breathe, Niko, breathe, he thought. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Stay quiet. Stay calm. The sirens grew louder. He pushed on, forcing himself to think clearly despite the urgency.

  On the tenth-floor landing, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. He could hear voices from below, and the sound of heavy boots on the stairs. The police were already inside the building. He had to act fast. He glanced around, his eyes falling on a window at the end of the corridor. It was a risky move, but he had nothing but risky moves left.

  He sprinted toward the window and forced it open, peering out at the fire escape that zigzagged down the side of the building. The metal structure was old and rusty, but it was his best option. He climbed out, feeling the cold night air against his skin, and began to descend. The fire escape creaked under his weight, each step sending a jolt of fear through him. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could, knowing that any noise might give away his position.

  Halfway down, he ducked as a flashlight beam swept across the building, narrowly missing him. He pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath, waiting for the danger to pass. When the light moved on, he resumed his descent, heart pounding in his chest. Reaching the ground, he slipped into the back alley behind the building. He glanced around, ensuring he was alone, and then blended into the dark.

  The narrow alley was filled with dumpsters and stray cats, the smell of garbage and decay hanging in the air. He moved swiftly, keeping to the darkest parts, his senses heightened. Every noise, every shadow, felt like danger. Emerging from the alley, he found himself on a busy street. The city was alive with its usual evening crowd—people heading home from work, others going out for dinner or drinks. To Niko, every passerby seemed like a potential threat. He needed to stay hidden, to blend in without drawing attention.

  He pulled a face mask from his bag and put it on, knowing the city was filled with surveillance cameras equipped with facial recognition technology. For once, Niko found himself grateful for the Singaporean air quality that made the mask so common.

  With the mask securely in place, he walked quickly but not too fast, trying to look casual. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, while scanning the area for any sign of the police. The MRT station at Farrer Park was just a few blocks away, yet it felt like miles. He navigated the crowded sidewalks, slipping between groups of people, always moving, never stopping.

  As he neared the station, Niko saw police cars pulling up nearby. Acting quickly, he ducked into a narrow side street, crouching behind a stack of crates. The muffled voices of officers questioning people on the street reached his ears. His heart hammered in his chest as he waited, tense and alert. Once the officers moved on, he slipped out of his hiding spot and made his way to the station.

  Inside, he blended into the crowd of commuters, using their numbers as a shield. The station was buzzing with activity. He navigated through the maze of tunnels and platforms purposefully, heading for the first available train. Boarding it with his pulse still racing, he knew this was just the beginning of his escape. He sent a quick, coded message to Priya, arranging to meet in the evening at a busy mall on Orchard Road—one of the few places he hoped to blend in.

  The mall was teeming with shoppers, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and music from various stores. Niko kept his head down, weaving through the crowd, constantly looking over his shoulder. His anger grew as he read the article detailing the accusations against him, complete with his picture and a plea for the public to report any sightings.

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  The gravity of the situation sank in. He was being framed, and someone powerful was behind it. He stood there, hoping that Priya would show up, until he finally spotted her near a large fountain in the center of the mall, her expression tense. “Niko, over here,” she called softly, glancing around nervously.

  He hurried over, pulling her into a secluded corner near a row of shops and gave her a long hug. “Priya, thank you for coming. What’s been happening?”

  She looked around to ensure they weren’t being watched. “Ryan’s behavior is getting more erratic. He’s pushing the board harder than ever, demanding they stick to the launch schedule no matter what. But the board is too scared to confront him. They’re afraid of what he might do.”

  “Did Ryan say something about me to you?”

  “He hasn’t, but I barely see him these days except through the screen. The only thing he keeps saying is that NAPPA can’t be dragged down by you, and that they should collaborate with the police.”

  Niko frowned. “And what about my files? The ones you said were supposedly destroyed? How did information about my past leak?”

  Priya shook her head, her eyes filled with concern. “I swear I don’t know, Niko. The files were supposed to be wiped clean—General Meyer assured me of it. There’s no way they could have resurfaced. Someone with serious power and connections is behind this.”

  Niko’s fists clenched. “I need to clear my name, Priya. I can’t let them get away with this.”

  Priya reached into her bag and handed him a small envelope. “I managed to get ahold of some forged identification documents for you today; don’t ask me how. Also, I found a way for you to get out of Singapore. Read the description inside. But be careful; they’re monitoring the city. I’ll do my best to dig into your file and the accusations. I promise.”

  Niko took the envelope, feeling a surge of gratitude and determination. “Thank you, Priya. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She smiled faintly. “Just stay safe. I’ll be in touch as soon as I find out anything.”

  Niko watched as Priya melted back into the crowd, her figure quickly disappearing among the throngs of shoppers. He knew she was taking a great risk by helping him, and he couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity.

  Niko lingered a moment, took a deep breath and then turned away. He had no time to lose.

  Slipping into the quiet edge of the mall, he found a side exit and stepped into a small alley, where the hum of Orchard Road dulled to a distant murmur.

  On the way, he tore open the envelope to find a set of fake IDs and a single sheet of paper. Printed instructions led him toward an older part of the city near the harbor.

  He hailed a taxi at the corner of a less crowded street, keeping his hood drawn low. The driver—a middle-aged man with thick-rimmed glasses and a slight paunch—rolled down the window. There was a faint scent of kopi and pandan leaves inside, and a red tassel hung from the rearview mirror. The radio played a soft Mandarin ballad, crackling through cheap speakers.

  “Where to, boss?” the driver asked.

  “Telok Blangah,” Niko said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Near the old shipyard.”

  The driver raised his eyebrows. “This time of the day? Not much happening there, lah,” he remarked, pulling away from the curb.

  “Just visiting a friend,” Niko replied, forcing a casual tone. He tucked the envelope into his jacket.

  They wound through quieter avenues, leaving behind the shimmering skyline of Orchard Road. Soon the streets grew sparser, lit by fewer lamps, and the distant cranes by the harbor came into view. The driver hummed along to the radio, occasionally glancing at Niko in the mirror.

  “You new here?” he asked, turning onto a dimly lit street. “Don’t see many people going Telok Blangah so late.”

  So you’ve said, Niko thought, but attempted a grin. “Just a long day,” he said, voice hollow. “Need some rest.”

  The driver shrugged, seeming uninterested in pushing further. As they neared the address—a nondescript block behind a shuttered hardware supply store—the driver slowed to a stop. “Okay, boss. Thirty dollars.”

  Niko handed him the bills, careful not to appear too eager. “Keep the change,” he said softly.

  The driver looked surprised, then nodded, giving Niko a small grin. “Thank you, boss. You take care, ah?”

  Niko stepped out, the taxi’s red taillights fading into the darkness. Niko found himself just off Keppel Bay, a place where the scent of seawater mingled with diesel fumes and the occasional hawker stall and slipped into the warren of side streets.

  He passed rust-streaked container yards and rows of stacked crates. Vessels bobbed in the harbor’s faint glow. No one seemed to notice him as he followed the instructions closely: turn left at the faded blue entrance, cross the empty lot beside a shuttered paint supplier, then up a flight of metal stairs to a third-floor flat with a worn green door.

  Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of must and old wood. It was spartan—just a narrow bed, a small table, and a single dim lamp. The window overlooked a patch of rooftops and, beyond them, the cranes and ships of the harbor. Locking the door behind him, Niko set his new documents on the table and checked the locks twice. Only then, with exhaustion pressing on his eyes, did he let himself relax.

  He kicked off his shoes and sank onto the thin mattress. Within minutes, sleep claimed him.

  The next day, with the fake documents in hand, Niko navigated the streets to a small fishing dock near the Singapore harbor. Priya had arranged for passage on a small tugboat for him, a humble, unassuming means to escape the city.

  As he approached the dock, the pungent smell of fish filled the air. He saw the tugboat—an old, weathered vessel with peeling paint and a crew of grizzled fishermen loading their catch. He approached the captain, a wiry man with a rugged face. “You must be Niko,” the captain said in a low voice. “We leave in ten minutes. Stay out of sight, lah!”

  Niko nodded and boarded the boat, finding a small, cramped space below deck where he could hide. The boat’s engines rumbled to life, and they were soon moving, leaving the familiar skyline of Singapore behind.

  As the tugboat made its way through the Singapore Strait, with a strong stench of fish in his nose, Niko reflected on the events that had led him to this point. Someone powerful was clearly trying to frame him, most likely someone in NAPPA itself. Could it really be Ryan, as the Bulldog had proposed? Surely he would have much to gain from Niko’s fall; but somehow, Niko couldn’t believe that Ryan, his friend, would be able to do such a thing. Whoever it was, he knew that clearing his name and uncovering the truth wouldn’t be easy.

  He felt both relief and apprehension as the boat cut through the water, taking him to an uncertain future. Soon thereafter, he fell asleep under the stars.