The sharp query makes me frown. “I’ve pulled data from multiple sources.”
“Teodor Zoric?”
“I’ve been talking to him, yes.”
The phone skates back across the table to me. “You think I had something to do with Sophia’s abduction and rather than come straight to me and ask, you went to our enemy.”
If there’s a question in there, his inflection doesn’t alter to pinpoint it. “I went to my colleagues to ask if they had information. From there, I—”
“You didn’t come to me. I’m one of your colleagues.” He reaches over to tap his stubby forefinger on the phone. “More so than your Serbian snitch.”
“It became clear early on that there were ties back to your silo.”
“So, you sent this man to feel out my daughter? Why?”
I shake my head because I’m not really sure. “His proposed alliance is nothing to do with—”
“When did you discover these so-called ties?”
To bluster and obfuscate seems a good plan but when I open my mouth to put him off, I see something else in his face. The man isn’t just angry. He’s hurt.
I snap my lips together, cutting off whatever I was about to say. Thinking furiously. “How would a man end up laundering for your team without authorisation?”
“I’ve told you—”
With a flap of my hand, I brush his denials aside. “We have enough evidence to verify the link. It’s not a question. Sergio is a member of your South Island team and he’s been on your payroll for years.”
Andrej reads my expression, then lunges for the phone, finally checking the image. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head, but not quickly enough to hide the flash of recognition.
“Are you stating you had nothing to do with the order to kidnap my daughter?”
The man cuts his eyes to me, giving a single nod. “This Sergio. He’s not on my crew. Johnson vetted him eight nine years ago, but it didn’t work for us. We passed his details onto an MC gang we were in league with.”
“Blood caste?”
“Fuck no. They weren’t even a blip on the police radar back then.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
Andrej sits back, linking his hands over the hard muscles of his abdomen. He must be about to troll for a new wife. The last meeting I spent any time with him, he’d been fighting back the flab. Now, he’s toned as fuck.
His teeth bare in a smile before he answers, “You haven’t shown a willingness to exchange information with me. Why wouldn’t you expect me to respond in kind?”
“Because we’re meant to be in the same organisation.”
“Yeah. We are.”
There’s a glint in his eye that I know won’t disappear until I give him what he’s after. Much as it pains me to do so, I incline my head. “It would’ve been prudent to approach you before following my inquiries elsewhere.”
“Is Teodor serious?” When I struggle, he adds, “About making an alliance with my daughter.”
I shrug. “Presumably. I’m not in charge of his love life.”
“Who’s talking about love? I’m searching for a suitable partner who can expand my prospects. Why the hell else would anyone marry?”
Why indeed?
“You’d have to ask him. That angle of approach was something he dreamt up on his own. Nothing to do with me.”
