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“That was done by a business acquaintance of yours.” Will. “I have no doubt he did a thorough job.”
I have no doubt either.
“Only one dirty agent?” Possible, but unlikely.
“I can’t say with certainty, but with the ring gone, they’ve been neutralized. I guarantee that if there are others, they’ll be on their best behavior.”
For a little while.
“Who ordered the hit on Paolo?”
“Vander Gant denied it.” Russo sniffs. “It did look like a suicide, but as I said earlier, there are easier ways to kill yourself.”
Zé rolls his eyes. He doesn’t believe that Paolo died by suicide any more than I do. It takes a lot of balls to slit your own throat. Someone was cleaning up.
“Did you find Paolo’s cousin?”
“Almost everyone we questioned knew Paolo. No one knew anything about a cousin.”
Andre had no reason to lie about that, but whomever he talked to could have lied to him. We’ve always known it was a possibility. But still, it feels like a loose end.
“Rafael, I honored the promise I made to you. We used the charts you provided as a road map to question Vander Gant. He gave up enough details on the victims that we’ll be able to trace most of them.”
“Trace, but not locate?” It’s a punch to the gut, and I’m sure Zé feels it too.
“That will be more difficult. The women were sold through an online auction on the dark web, everything was encrypted, and money was exchanged through untraceable wire transfers. They have no idea who the buyers are.”
The whole thing makes me sick.
“Interpol has agreed to contact the victims’ families provided that I keep their culpability out of the news.”
Those bastards aren’t worried about one dirty agent. They’re worried there might be more. “Are you going to keep quiet?”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “A month ago, I would have enjoyed their humiliation. But now? There’s no point. Francesca is gone forever, but at least I know what happened to her, and I know where she is. It’s more important for us to give the families something than it is for me to gloat.”
It’s good news, but it brings no real comfort. The emotion continues rumbling inside like lava in a volcano. Not ready to blow, but on the precipice. I should be more relieved.
“Before he departed this world, Vander Gant threatened that we could kill him, but we couldn’t kill the cause.”
“The cause?” What the fuck is that?
“He suggested this was some kind of political payback.”
“That’s it?”
“We pressed him, but it was the end, and even adrenaline couldn’t keep him alive. If he had anything meaningful to trade, he would have done it sooner. Trust me. It wasn’t a good time for him.”
It’s not uncommon for prisoners to make those kinds of threats. The cowards make them early, hoping to bargain, while others save them for the end, as a parting shot to leave the interrogator with doubts that will eat at him.
“You’re confident it’s over?” Because I’m not. Men who believe blindly in a cause are the least likely to give up useful information.
“I’ll sleep well tonight.”
Russo has other daughters, a wife, and sisters. If he’s wrong and they’re not finished, they’ll seek their revenge with any one of them. He won’t risk it. But I can’t shake the thought that this was some kind of cause.
“I know it doesn’t bring back Francesca, but you’ve done a great service to many.”
When we end the call, I lean back in my chair and stare at Zé, my gut still churning.
