21. Dante

Chapter 21

Dante

“ G ood. Because I need you to be dangerous. Nothing matters to me anymore except for getting the bastards that killed my father,” she declared bitterly. “That’s all I care about now.”

I felt the exact same way but it wasn’t a sentiment we needed to share.

She spoke again. “About the informant from that night? The news said he was killed. I assume you’re aware of this. Can you tell me all that you know about it?”

I was pleased. It was the first time she willingly requested any information from me. Being stuck together thousands of feet above the ground in the clouds was not a bad idea after all. I softened my expression and tone, let down my guard as much as I could, and relaxed my posture. Then I held her gaze and spoke.

“I don’t know much about him. What I do know from your father was that he worked at the lounge where the woman was killed.”

As I spoke, she stared at me intently. Her eyes were slightly swollen and red and … I started to feel a deep urge to feel her body against me. The urge was so strong that I was stunned. I had never felt that way toward anyone in my life.

“The case your father was working on for me involved a lucrative olive oil export deal. Not many people know but almost all the olive oil sold in supermarkets and delis around the world have been touched at some point by the Mafia. I’m well versed in it because it was how I began under Ugo.” I paused. “Do you know who Ugo is?”

“He’s the mafia boss who’s orchestrating all of this?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He wanted me to be in the inner sanctum of his organization, but I had to pass the test of loyalty. I had to obey him blindly, instantly, without question. We were invited to a top nightclub and shown to the VIP lounge. There were big bowls of cocaine and caviar on the table, and beautiful, willing, scantily clad girls had been hired for the evening. Bottles of the most expensive champagne waited in ice buckets. Everything was for us. All of it. But first the loyalty test. He urinated into a champagne glass and held it out for us to drink.”

Zola shrank back with disgust.

“Again and again, he refilled the glass and all the other guys drank. Some of them gagged, but every single one kept it down and thanked him. Then came my turn. He held the glass out to me. Steam came out of the glass. I looked into his eyes. They were filled with a sick delight. He was enjoying this.

“When I did not take the glass, the expression in his eyes changed. No one had refused until then and the narcissist inside him understood instantly. He had misjudged me. Yes, he had found me in the gutter, yes, I was burning with ambition to be successful, but I knew my self-worth. Drinking his piss was not how I was going to make it in the world.

“But now he was caught in a trap of his own making. He was about to be humiliated by a worthless street boy. It was the ultimate slap in his face. I turned around and walked out of that nightclub. He could have killed me, but he now hated me so much death was too good for me. He tried to pin a murder rap on me. His intention was to let the system throw me in prison so he could have me raped daily by his men.

“Unfortunately, his plan backfired. Your father took me on and shined a bright light on him and his organization, making it impossible for him to attack me openly. He’d been trying to get back at me every day since. He tried many times, but I can be more slippery than an eel. He’s thrown his net again, but we’ll see if he catches me this time.”

“How? What kind of net?” she asked curiously.

“I’d been invited by a business associate to dinner at his private club. During dinner I needed to use the restroom. While I was in there one of the club’s attendants came in. It immediately struck me as strange, because exclusive clubs don’t employ women to attend to the men’s restrooms. As she held out a towel, I noted her face and there was something vaguely familiar about her. Suddenly, someone came out of a door with something behind his back. He was directly in the line of sight of the woman, but she didn’t seem startled or suspicious as she should have been. That was when I knew for sure. I was in danger. The man brought out a gun and as I reached for mine, the woman flicked the towel at my face and my gun went off. I heard two shots were fired, mine and another. By the time I had thrown off the towel, she was lying on the floor. Dead. The man was gone. The cameras only captured me and the woman going into the bathroom. The gun on the ground had my fingerprints on it and I had gunshot residue on my hands. I recognized it. An old one that Ugo had saved all these years. And the woman. I remembered her later, a prostitute who worked for Ugo. She didn’t know she was the sacrifice. They found a wine glass with her prints on it in my apartment. Ugo thought it should have been an open and shut case … until he found out I had already reported my gun stolen years ago and my security company had many months of CCTV video and no sign of Ugo’s whore. At best, he would implicate me in something unsavory. It could have been bad PR, but my businesses are sound and I didn’t fear it. Then your father found the whistleblower and Ugo began to sweat."

She stared at me and I could see by her expression just how hard she was contemplating it all.

“I feel as though there are a lot of details still missing, but I don’t know where to start asking the questions.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Take your time. I’m always available to you.”

“Tell me about the informant?”

“Right … he worked for Ugo. He told your father he was willing to give information, dates, and names on Ugo’s business practices in exchange for some money. He had it all in a little black book.”

“But he's dead now?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“So everyone connected to the black book is dead except me.”

“Yes.”