Official channels decided to stop the author in a softer, more polished way. A representative of a national cultural foundation was sent to Paris. In a smooth, velvet voice, he offered broad cooperation and help gaining access to closed government archives. He promised interviews with intelligence veterans and suggested the book could become a major historical work.
It was a tempting offer, but Anne understood the trap. The state simply wanted to take control of the project and turn a hard truth into a cleaned-up official version. She refused. That left her caught in the crossfire of two powerful camps.
She sped up her work, noticing unsettling signs in her apartment and hearing clicks on the phone line. One day she found a door she had locked standing slightly open, and on her desk lay a bouquet of four wilted red roses. The message was plain enough: someone remembered the fate of the four young men and was watching her closely.
Shaken, Anne immediately moved, gave up her phone, and continued writing on an old laptop kept offline. Each day she carried completed pages to a bank safe-deposit box, living in a state of steady, low-grade fear. At that critical moment, The Artist stepped in again.
The old operative realized his final grand project was in danger of being derailed, and he decided to remove the obstacles in his own style. One day, the London exile received a photograph of his college-age daughter standing with some questionable young men outside a nightclub. On the back was a short warning suggesting that certain ugly stories have a way of repeating themselves.
The tycoon turned pale, understood the message, and immediately pulled his men out of Paris. The elegant envoy from the cultural foundation received his own warning as well: a model coffin and a note advising him not to interfere with The Artist while he finished the picture. Any effort to pressure the writer stopped at once, and the road to publication was cleared.
The old man was not protecting Anne out of devotion to human rights. He wanted the full story published, unsoftened and uncorrected. In his view, it should stand as a warning to anyone foolish enough to think power and privilege put them beyond consequences. Once the completed manuscript was delivered to the publisher, the countdown to release began…
