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“From the Russian mob,” I clarified.
“Yes,” he said, voice a harsh whisper.
“I know sometimes contributions mean favors. Did you know when you accepted the money that they wanted you to help with this trial?”
“Not this in particular, no.”
“What then?” I asked.
“Just a general understanding that they might need something from me some day.”
“But you knew at the time that they were the Russian mob?”
“Yes.”
“Have you pulled strings for them?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“A few.”
“On this case?” I asked, discreetly sliding my phone a little closer, so it didn’t miss anything.
“No. Well, yes.”
“What is the case?”
“A human trafficking case. I’m trying. It’s not as easy as they would think.”
“I see.”
“But I’ve done other things, smaller things,” he said, clearly on a roll now that I got him talking.
“Illegal things?”
“Yes. Fuck, my head,” he said, rubbing his temples.
I turned off the recording app, making sure it saved the file, then slipping my phone into my pocket as I stood.
“Let me get you some painkillers,” I said, going to my drawer to grab some of my acetaminophen and the glass off the desk. “Here,” I said, dropping them into his hand. “Let me just get you some water,” I added, heading toward the bathroom to fill the glass.
I glanced at myself in the mirror as I waited for the water to get cold.
I saw excitement and relief in my eyes. But under that, disappointment and fear.
Because there were no more excuses now. It was all over. I had to hand this over to the police. Then I had to figure out where I was moving next, how I was going to afford it all, what life was going to look like from now on.
“Shit,” I said, the water overflowing the cup and pouring down my hand.
Those were problems to think about another time.
Now, I had to keep playing my role as an unconcerned campaign manager.
I flicked off the light and was starting out of the door when I saw something in the hall that had my stomach lurching.
A man in a black hoodie.
“Michael,” I hissed, heart hammering. “Get down,” I added as I watched, vision going into slow motion as my gaze landed on the flash of metal.
“What’s—“ he started, catching the look of horror on my face, and moving to stand, to turn and look where my gaze was frozen.
