On The Rocks (15 page)

The framework was done. The bottom left
quadrant was taking shape. Several single pieces floated at various
spots in the space defined by the border, as yet unconnected, but
in their proper locations all the same.

Pleased with the progress, the agent went to
the laptops by the bed.

Logged in to the Delegation’s screen on the
computer to the left.

Then, a few keystrokes on the laptop to the
right. The remote camera shifted, and the image changed. No longer
the vault but two men.

Metis increased the volume —the voices grew
louder— and then the agent picked up the phone.

Time to put the next piece into place.

7

August 12
^th

Amalfi, Italy

ON THE BOTTOMMOST level of La Casa Sulla
Rocce, Abrahan stood before the glass walls, staring out at the
endless ocean. The sea was still today. An occasional wave rippled
over the water but not enough to disturb the boats sprinkled on the
pristine navy landscape. A multitude of vessels bobbed or coasted
along, but his attention homed in on one.

To the naked eye at this distance, it was
just a tiny black dot, practically invisible against the deep blue.
But he had a remedy for the visual impairment. He turned his
attention to the screen of his cell phone. The guard on the roof
had sent images just minutes before. In them, the man Abrahan was
eager to meet stood on the topmost deck of a sleek black yacht.

“Lunch,
mano
,” his brother said from
behind him.

Pulling away from the view, Abrahan dropped
his phone onto his desk and then went over to the bistro table he
set up whenever they dined in his office. A white linen tablecloth
covered the solid wooden surface, three goblets of chilled
chiaretto
atop it. The sparkling red would pair perfectly
with the seafood dish he’d ordered, and he’d been anticipating the
simple pleasure since breakfast.

China had been laid out for a four-course
meal, with silverware waiting on gold cloth napkins and—

“Why do you always go through the trouble?”
Zio huffed. “It’s just take out.”

Abrahan stared at his brother but didn’t
bother responding. There were some things Sanzio would never
appreciate. For instance, savoring a meal as opposed to scarfing it
down like a starved child —he eyed his brother’s wrinkled tee
shirt— and clothing that required pressing.

Sanzio plopped the bag onto the table
without care. Too close to the edge, it tipped precariously,
sending the top container sliding off the bottom one. Abrahan
reached out and snatched it up before it could spill. Shot a glare
at his brother.

Why did Zio have to be careless in every
aspect of his life?

Music exploded into the stillness of the
room. High-energy electronica. A dizzying array of noise punctuated
by quick jabs of chaos and hooks and loops that had no specific
rhythm. It bled from the speakers, practically rattling the glass
walls, scrambling Abrahan’s senses.

Head bobbing, Zio’s whole body wobbled and
oscillated, loose and ungainly, like he had no control of his limbs
and would fall over any minute.

Too much. Just too much.

Abrahan squeezed his eyes shut, cringing at
the distortion of volume in his ears. Just when it felt like his
head would explode, the noise snipped off and peace returned.

He opened his eyes to find Sabine near the
radio. Zio fixed her with a cheeky look and she returned the smile
and shook her head. “The food tastes better when we can hear
ourselves chew, Zio.”

Thank goodness for his wife.

Still smiling, Sabine approached with one of
her velvet-lined boxes.

“A good day today?”

“Always a good day in Rome.” Pulling back
the lid, she revealed a stack of cash and four diamonds. He flipped
through the money —the count seemed right— and then held the
flawless stones in his broad palm. Investment grade, excellent
clarity, and therefore very expensive.

A good place to store one’s ill-gotten
funds.

Certificates for the stones were also in the
box. They’d be used to up-sell the imperfect diamonds Sabine sold
in her shop.

A good way to double down on an
investment.

Returning the diamonds, he tipped his head,
and she went to the vault behind his desk. Cut directly into the
stone wall, it was tall enough and deep enough for two of his
enforcers to stand shoulder to shoulder inside.

His hawkish gaze stayed on her as she pulled
back on the gold handle, swinging the door open all the way. She
stepped inside, grouping the new diamonds with the old in a blue
velvet pouch. The remaining cash went onto a different shelf, and
then she came out. She paused at his desk to touch the angel
sculpture she’d given him when they’d first met. It sat in a group
with three others he’d brought over from Belém, all of which were
much larger, but hers was his favorite. “The angels are watching
over us, Abrahan,” she’d said. A settling thought.

And then Sabine was before him, presenting
her empty box.

Good. Very good.

At the table, Sanzio had already dished up
the meal. And had already started in on his own plate.

Pushing away his annoyance, Abrahan held
Sabine’s chair and then eased into his own. Flipped his napkin
across his lap as he frowned down at the noodles on his plate.

“Did you speak with your friend?” Abrahan
asked, working to cover the confusion in his voice. The food would
be delicious, no doubt, but still…

Sabine nodded exuberantly, dark hair
shimmying against her shoulder. “She’s excited to see my new
pieces.”

“Good.” If the woman purchased one of his
wife’s baubles, all the better. But Abrahan had plans for a far
more lucrative relationship. “Invite them for lunch.”

Zio made a distasteful sound around the hunk
of meat in his mouth, and Abrahan twirled the noodles on the tine
of his fork.

“Really?” Sabine darted a glance at Zio.
Came back to him, her face showing her excitement. “When?”

“Whenever is good for them. Here, if that’s
fine.”

Zio grunted.

“Okay. If…” she paused, then said in a rush,
“If they’re still here when the time comes, can I invite them to
the party?”

Abrahan smiled thinly. Their one-year
anniversary was approaching, and Sabine desperately wanted an
anniversary party since they’d had such a small wedding. Many of
the people in town knew her since the jewelry store was one of the
most successful on the coast.

He’d have preferred no party at all, but she
asked very little of him so he granted her request. He’d expected
fifty, maybe sixty people. But now it was closer to a hundred and
twenty. By the time the day came it could be double that.

He nodded. “Yes. If they’re here.”

Sabine smiled.

Zio tipped his head back and groaned
loudly.

At the not so subtle interruption, Abrahan
set his fork down carefully and steepled his fingers together. “You
have some objection to this,
maninho
?”

His brother dropped his fork against the
china, chipping a fleck off the expensive gold-rimmed plate. He
snatched up his goblet and downed a healthy swallow of the wine
inside. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t
need
a middle man. You don’t need—”

“Sabine,” Abrahan said calmly.

His wife stood immediately. With a kiss to
his cheek, she abandoned her plate and headed for the exit.

“Don’t forget to arrange lunch,” he called.
Once she’d slid the door closed, he turned to his brother.
“Discretion is a virtue you should learn, Zio.”

Zio blinked. “She’s your
wife
. She
launders your money, risking herself with every trip to Rome on
your behalf.”

Yes.

And still he lived as though Sabine would
slit his throat in his sleep. So when he awoke each day to feel the
breeze on his face and smell the salt air, he got a little thrill
at having survived another night.

Abrahan smiled tightly. “Loving her does not
mean I trust her.”

“Do you trust anyone?”

“No.”

Pain flashed in Zio’s eyes.

Being an informant for
Os Cães
had
taught Abrahan well. First, you’re only as good as the secrets you
keep. Once someone else knows them, the monetary value of the
information decreases substantially. Trusting no one meant having
no one to tell your secrets to, thus maximizing your profits.

And second, family, blood-related or
otherwise, would either turn on you in a heartbeat, or get you
killed.

As for those married in? Best to hedge his
bets.

Sabine was a head-turner, radiating
sexuality with every bat of her lashes. The type of exotic beauty a
man like his brother would have curled up in his bed each
night.

That she slept in
his
made Abrahan
uneasy.

He didn’t have the looks Zio did by any
stretch of the imagination. His hair wasn’t the same thick grade
that topped Zio’s head and his face didn’t inspire poetry or song.
Then there was his ear, nothing but a rough, raised ring against
his skull— the byproduct of a nervous hand and dull knife.

What would a woman like her want with a man
like him?

Apart from his money?

Zio smacked his palm on the table, rattling
the dishes. “Even more of a reason
not
to bring in this
forasteiro
, then.”

“The outsider is a necessary evil.”

“I have a feeling, Abrahan. In my gut, he is
not the right person for this.”

“Perhaps it is cirrhosis from the
alcohol?”

Sanzio cut his eyes and Abrahan ignored
it.

“In this business,
maninho,
the
difference between infinite success and an extended stay in prison
rests with your alliances. I have the source of the information,
now I need someone to get that information into the right hands to
turn the highest profit, thus making
me
the middle man, ah?
I hope we agree that
I
am necessary… Without this man, who
will make the sales, Zio?”

“Me.”

“
Fala sério!
”

“I am
very
serious,” Zio insisted.
“This man… You don’t trust him,
mano
. You have snipers on
the roof as we speak. And how many scouts out there in boats,
hauling fish for no reason other than to keep an eye on him?”

“It doesn’t change the fact that he has
connections I do not. He also has the face.”

“
I
have the face! People don’t care
who they buy the information from, so long as they can get it. And
I am your brother. You can trust me.”

Abrahan chuckled through his nose and
glanced down at the half-nibbled food on his plate. “I can’t even
depend on you to bring me the proper lunch. I asked for cacciucco,
not capellini.”

Zio eyed the food, then lowered his gaze.
“I… misunderstood. The connection on the phone was bad.”

As ever, the blame was not his own.

And, as always, Abrahan had dealt with
it.

“I have contacts, too,
mano
.” Zio
said. “I know people.”

“Oh? In Croatia and Germany? In South
Africa? Japan? Argentina? Tell me,
maninho
, how far is your
reach?”

Zio’s face reddened and he shot to his feet.
“How can I prove my worth when you outsource my position? How—”

“Have you found the woman?”

“
Santa Maria
! It is
impossible
!”

Abrahan glared at his brother. Sanzio just
didn’t get it.

“Your reach is so vast,” he said slowly,
“you can’t find one little woman, yet I am to trust you with
selling sensitive information regarding the whereabouts of CIA
operatives on my behalf?”

Arms crossed, Zio spun away from the table
and stalked over to the huge glass walls.

So much potential. So much promise, and yet
the man couldn’t figure out how to apply himself. He couldn’t
figure out that he had to crawl before he walked. Just that simple
act alone would get him so much further in life.

“No lion is born king,
maninho
.”

His brother grunted as he always did at the
expression.

The cell phone on his desk rang and Abrahan
pushed out of his chair to retrieve it. He didn’t recognize the
number and nearly didn’t answer, but at the last moment he mashed
the button to open the line.

“
Alô
?”

A series of clicks and then: “I believe we
have a problem.”

He blinked.

Metis.

A knot loosened in Abrahan’s belly. He had
planned to go forward with partnering with the “outsider” although
he’d been unsure whether or not he’d ever hear from Metis again.
The man —woman? He didn’t know— hadn’t called him since Zio got
pinched. To hear that robotic voice was like a healing balm to his
frazzled nerves.

Zio hurried over and Abrahan held up a hand.
“About time you made contact.” He muted the call, knowing it would
last less than forty seconds. To Zio, “Close the door on your way
out.”

Zio’s face paled. “But—”

Abrahan pointed. “Go.”

Cursing, his brother stormed across the
marble floors. Sanzio yanked the handle, the door coasted back on
its track, and then he slid it forward so hard the echo of metal on
stone clanged into the room.

Abrahan unmuted the phone. “We have no
problem.”

“The last transaction was late because your
brother was busy doing jail time.”

“How… did you know about that?”

A mechanized chuckle. “I work for a company
that deals in information. They do what you do, only with the
backing of the government to make it appear legal. We should pause
the sale. I don’t feel comfortable knowing someone working for you
has been compromised.”

Abrahan couldn’t let that happen. There was
too much money on the line to let this opportunity pass him by.