Trust: Betrayed (25 page)

Gilberto stood and nodded, “Consider it done,
Doutora
Sophia. My brother will speak with the head of the drug cartel and give the order. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Gilberto, please, one more thing.”

“Anything.” If he could decide for her, he would have ordered all the twelve men killed. But that was her decision to make. He shrugged. Sometimes, outsiders didn’t understand the harsh law that governed the underworld of the slums.

Sophia sat erect on the sofa, a fevered light appearing in her eyes. “I want them to know who ordered it. I want them to know what they made Gabriel suffer.” And a dark smile spread on her face. “I want them to fear me for the rest of their lives.”

Atwood House.

Thursday, March 25
^th
, 2010.

12.54 a.m.

Sophia’s hand stopped in midair, as she became suddenly aware that Alistair was leaning on her bathroom doorjamb watching her. She looked at his face in the mirror.
Could you handle my confession?

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as he stepped into the bathroom.
What put this anguished look on your face, Sophia?
She nodded tight-lipped, and he stretched his hands, pulling her in his arms, He put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded them. They felt like rocks under his fingers. “Come to bed. I’ll give you a relaxing massage.”

Walking back to the bedroom, Alistair frowned at Sophia’s lowered face hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

As he let go of her hand, the worry he’d been feeling since Sunday evening returned to eat at him again. Sophia felt like a scared rabbit that ran from him as soon as he got close.

“Sophia. Talk to me.”

I can’t...
With a strangled sob, she flung herself onto his chest, burrowing her face in the hollow of his neck. An uncontrollable trembling shook her as tears fell down her cheeks and soaked his skin.

Alistair frowned in concern. He laid back down and held her while she cried, soothing her with murmured words in Gaelic.

But she had opened the gates of a dam.

He was becoming seriously worried. She was ice cold and trembling. “What happened, Sophia? Why are you crying?”

She just shook her head and cried harder.
I love you. But I’m not the woman you think I am.

He gently rubbed her back and waited for the storm to pass. The suddenness of the outburst was no less startling than the fact that it had never happened before. As the sobs began to subside, she relaxed against him.

“It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

She burrowed her face on his neck like a child and used the sheet to wipe away the tears from his chest and her face.

Alistair had touched her body and soul liked no one had done before and to whom, quite unexpectedly, she had given her heart.

At last, a final shuddering sigh escaped her, and her breathing quietened. With thoughts of her dark past and her uncertain future crowding her, Sophia drifted off to sleep in Alistair’s arms.

Lying awake in the darkness of her room, he tried to piece together her behavior. He knew that she was holding something back from him. But Alistair wasn’t sure if he was prepared to know what it was. If he wanted to discover that his dark-haired angel was not so pure.

Disturbed by his many doubts, it was a long time before he drifted off to sleep.

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Thursday, March 25
^th
, 2010.

11.23 a.m.

A knock on his opened door called Alistair’s attention away from the floor plans he was studying. As Tavish walked into the room, he motioned for him to approach his computer, “Come and see. Rae sent me his ideas for the opening.”

“I went there yesterday, Alistair Connor. The refurbishment is almost finished. I have the guest list ready and I just received the invitation samples.” He opened his MacBook Air and showed his brother some images of the gallery. “I wouldn’t put that on the show,” he pointed to one of photographs. “Nor this,” he pointed to another and narrowed his eyes at the screen. “In fact, Alistair Connor, I told Maddox and Brent yesterday that we shouldn’t display multiples. Only originals.”

“Hm. You’ve been studying.”
I have chosen the right place for you, Tavish Uilleam. Art will help you heal.

“Well, you know art has always been a hobby,” he circled the desk and sat in the armchair. “So, you’ve moved in with Sophia.”

“No. I haven’t.” Alistair looked up from the laptop, stunned.
Not yet.
“Why do you say that?”

Tavish smiled. “Do you know that since you started screwing-”

“More respect, Tavish Uilleam.” Alistair frowned.

“Very well. Since immaculate Sophia-” He stopped at Alistair’s scowl, chuckling. “Alistair Connor, relax. I’m just joking.”

“I am not. Get to the point.”

“Come on, Brother. Since you two have... Err...” he waved his hand in the air, “you’ve slept in your apartment only twice.”

Alistair’s frown deepened, “That can’t be right.”

“You lost track?” He smiled. “Garrick would never say a word, but I know he’s been taking your clothes over to her house every morning. The least you could do is take them yourself the night before.”

Alistair leaned back on his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Tavish’s smile grew, “So, when are you going to propose?”

“I beg your pardon?” he blinked.

“When are you going to propose?” Tavish repeated. “When is the wedding?”

“Father told you?” he gapped. “I asked him not to.”

Tavish’s mouth dropped open before he banged his hand on the arm of his chair. “I knew it! Even after everything, Alistair Connor, you still are the most helpless romantic alive.”

“Tavish Uilleam. I haven’t talked to her yet. It’s only been a couple of weeks that Sophia and I have... That we’ve been...”

“Fucking,” Tavish provided, too amused to care about the consequences.

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, “Aye. That.”

“So? Is she pregnant already?”

Alistair’s face darkened.

“You’re speaking out of turn, Tavish Uilleam.” He looked down at the invitation samples on the screen, trying to control his anger. “Now, which one of these have you decided on?”

Leibowitz Oil Building.

12.57 p.m.

“I don’t believe it!” Sophia huffed and raised from her chair, aggravated. She picked up her bag and put her iPhone in it. She opened her office door, “Sarah, please, inform IT that my computer’s crashed for the third time since yesterday! Please ask Liang to have it fixed during my lunch hour.”

“Mrs. L., it’s not just your computer. The whole company network has crashed,” Sarah informed her.

“This is absurd.” Sophia paused, in front of Sarah’s desk. “This can’t happen. What about the back-up system?”

“It crashed, too.” Sarah said, apologetic.

Sophia shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Gabriel would be so mad... I want Liang here. Now.”

“He’s with Mr. Davidoff, Mrs. L.”

Sophia stopped and slowly turned back to Sarah. “What?”

Liang Kang-Dae was a computer genius. After studying at the United States, having won a full university scholarship, he returned to England and applied for one of the Leibowitz Awards for New Projects. He had won the first place brilliantly and the one-hundred-thousand pound award. He was twenty-six at the time. Gabriel offered him a position at Leibowitz by the end of the award party. After a while, Gabriel relocated the whole IT department from London to the Ireland branch and gave the young man free rein to manage all the company’s IT issues. Gabriel had always said that it was one of the wisest things he had done.

All that came to Sophia’s mind while she walked to Edward’s door. “Good morning, Edward, Liang.” She didn’t wait for their replies. “Can anyone tell me why our über-advanced network has crashed three times since yesterday?”

“Hackers, Mrs.-” Liang’s instantly replied.

Sophia froze as a loud buzz rang in her ears. Her lips opened but only a soft wheeze left her mouth as she dropped unconscious on the floor.

Leibowitz’s Penthouse, Sophia and Gabriel’s home office.

Thursday, June 5
^th
, 2008.

10.28 a.m.

“Mr. Santo, there’s no doubt. That is how they knew Mr. Leibowitz’s and your sister’s schedules. They must have been following them for a long time. They had all the information they needed.” The Brazilian Federal Police expert closed Sophia’s notebook and looked at the two men in front of him, shaking his head, and muttering, “Damn hackers. There’s no privacy anymore.” He put the notebook in a plastic bag, took off his gloves, and stored everything in his briefcase. He turned to a pale and wide-eyed Sophia, sitting rigidly in an armchair. He walked to her and said in a soothing voice, “I have to take your notebook to the lab. There, I will be able to use it to trace the hackers.”

Sophia nodded.
My computer. It was my computer that lead the kidnappers to us.

“Have you backed up all the photos and documents from this machine?”

Sophia nodded once more. She knew that if she opened her mouth to answer she would start crying. Again.

“-Mrs. Leibowitz. Please?” The expert had continued talking but she hadn’t heard. Sophia looked to Felipe and Edward for help.

“Yes, we will keep in touch, won’t we, Sis?” She nodded for the nth time that day. “Thank you very much.” Felipe and Edward followed the expert out of the room to the stairs where Edson, her butler, was waiting to see him out.

Meanwhile, Gilberto, her driver, knocked on the opened door. “
Doutora
Sophia?”

“Do you have news for me?” Her throat was so raw from screaming at night that it was difficult to speak.

From behind his back, Gilberto revealed a small steel box, like an old fashioned medical box. It was sealed with tape. In his other hand, he held an envelope.

Without a word, Sophia rose and motioned for Gilberto to follow her to the terrace.

She squinted in the sunlight, lowered her sunglasses and sought refuge under the parasol. She sat on one of the reclining chairs.

Her sad smile turned into a dark grin as she looked at the steel box, “The fingers?”

“
Doutora
Sophia, you don’t want to see those.” He shook the box and Sophia heard soft thumps. “My brother guaranteed me it was done as you requested.” He stretched his hand that held the envelope. “The warlord sent you... Err... A gift. A photo.”

Gilberto opened the envelope, pulling out a photo placing it next to Sophia.

Twelve male faces stared back at Sophia. White, mixed and negro men. Tall, average and short. Thin, muscular and fat. Bald, blond and dark-haired.

Crime isn’t picky.
She smiled sadly at her weird thought. Twelve completely different men. For her, they had only one thing in common: they had murdered her husband. They had murdered her love, her daughter’s father, her dream, her life.

“You can see that as you ordered,” Gilberto pointed at the photo with the steel box, “each one has lost their ring fingers.”

Sophia heard a shocked gasp and a sharp intake of breath behind her. She turned and faced her brother with an impassive face. “Don’t judge.”

Then she looked at Edward Davidoff, who had come for Gabriel’s funeral.

Sophia tilted her head to the side, studying him, as he stood on the enormous terrace. Under the Carioca sun and the absurd humidity, elegantly dressed in a tailored gray suit and dark-gray tie, Edward was rooted to the ground, openmouthed. His English flair had abandoned him.

Felipe scowled and his mellifluous voice turned hard and cold. “Sophia, you’re a lawyer. They-”

“They tortured and killed my husband!!” she screamed hoarsely, raising from the chair and stalking up to him. “They killed Gabriel!” She pushed Felipe aside and stormed off.

Felipe ogled the driver. “How did she find them?”

“
Doutor
Felipe, they were hiding near where my brother lives.” Gilberto raised his chin. “I told her. It was her right to order their deaths. We know the police wasn’t going up there to arrest them.”

Edward, who was recovering from the shock, asked even more horrified, “Have they been killed?”

“She didn’t wanted it,” Gilberto answered in his hard learned English. “We avenge our own. It’s the law of the slums.” He faced Felipe and shook his head slowly. “
Doutor
Gabriel was a great helper of our community. She give her leave when she asked for the fingers.” He shrugged. “She told me she only wanted the fingers, but some things are beyond anyone’s control. All of them, except he,” he pointed to one of the men in the photo, “died yesterday night. In the microwave.”

Edward looked at Felipe, “Microwave?”

“You don’t want to know,” Felipe grimaced, disgusted. “Please, Gilberto, get rid of these.” He motioned to the box in Gilberto’s hand and the photo

“No.”

The command, voiced in a whisper, made the men turn around.

“I want the photo.” Sophia was leaning on the sliding glass door, looking like she would faint at any minute, holding a thick envelope in her hand.

“Eleven men are dead because of you, Sophia,” Felipe thundered, glaring at her. He stepped in her direction and stopped, fisting his hands. “Who do you think you are? God?”

They were not supposed to be killed.
A sudden anger burst inside her and, clenching her hands, she faced Felipe. “Do you know what?” she screamed at her brother in her raspy voice. “They tortured Gabriel for ninety-six days and then killed him. They deserved it. They deserved to die.”

Felipe stepped closed to her and, lowering his head, he hissed, “Maybe they did. But you, Sophia, you should know better. You lowered yourself to their level. Now, you’re a criminal, too, exactly like them.”