“My grief and guilt gave way to rage and a burning need for revenge. But I had to lay low because those assholes had warned me to drop it. I built the crypt and poured time and money into following the trail discreetly, but it’s like once they got to Cali they disappeared into thin air.”
“Surely one of them popped up somewhere on facial recognition software?”
“You’d think so, right? Yet there is nothing, and I’ve come to two conclusions. One, whoever Ford went to is involved in whatever happened to the family, and he’s powerful enough to have completely covered his tracks, or two, Mathers and Hamilton were involved, and they used Zayn’s reverse-engineered facial recognition software system to wipe all trace of the Ford family ever having been in California.”
Charlie’s brow furrows and then smooths out. “Zayn shared his system with Hamilton and lied about it when we asked,” he correctly surmises.
“It was during the time he was suspicious of all of us, and after we earned his trust, he just forgot to mention it. When I was drawing a blank, I spoke with him. Asked him outright if any other elite had access to it, and he confirmed Hamilton did.”
“But you said earlier you didn’t think the elite were involved.”
“We can’t find any concrete trace to the elite, and those guys who ambushed me were something else. Some other entity. Either they were involved and they sent me Jane’s body to stop me from uncovering evidence of their guilt, or they know who’s responsible and they’re shielding them. It’s possible they were contacts of Hamilton’s and he was involved, or maybe providing the reverse-engineered software was the limit of his participation.”
“Is that why Hamilton was assassinated? To bury that knowledge with him?” Charlie asks.
“It’s possible, but Hamilton had plenty of enemies. As did Atticus. It could have been for any reason.” Whoever took both men down has managed to avoid detection. The FBI worked with the Italian police, but the assassin was never found, and no one was ever arrested for Hamilton’s prison murder either.
“True.” Charlie sinks into the couch, looking deep in thought. “We may never find all the answers.”
“Then I’ll never find any peace.” I prop my elbows on my knees and sit forward. “I won’t rest until I find the person responsible and end him.”
“Where are you at now with the investigation?”
I explain how after lying low for a couple years after those guys warned me off I began following up leads that led me to Venezuela. How I led several missions deep in the heart of the Orinoco mining valley, rescuing trafficked victims, killing their kidnappers, and burning their compounds to the ground. How I discovered Vera was at one of them and went in to rescue her.
I stand and lift one shoulder. “This brings us right up to speed. I know now that Jane ended up in Orinoco though I don’t know which compound she was at. They don’t exactly keep records. We have pieced together a rough timeline, and it seems like it happened approximately seven or eight months after leaving Rydeville. What I don’t know is how she got to Venezuela from the US. I was hoping if I discover the how I can find the who and then work back to identify where the Fords stayed in Cali.
“I got a tip-off a month ago about a guy who worked for a shady shipping firm at Cabello port in Venezuela. We had a talk”—I smirk, remembering that interrogation with fondness—“and I got a name out of him. This American guy works for a transportation company who ferries stolen kids from the port in Bolivar to southern Orinoco and from there via road to the different compounds. The guy has been in the business for years, so it’s likely he’d know something. He’d been in hiatus for a few years after I shut down most of the compounds, but it appears some brave fucker has decided to reclaim the territory and this dickhead came out of retirement.”
Charlie follows me as I exit the room and take a left. “I flew out to Venezuela last week and apprehended the guy, but it seems like another dead end.” I walk past the kitchen to the solid black door at the very end of this side of the basement. “Either the guy genuinely knows nothing or he’s been trained to withstand interrogation.”
The retinal and fingerprint scanner confirms my identity, and I push the door in, descending the stairs with Charlie hot on my heels.
“A basement within a basement,” Charlie murmurs as we go down. “You’re just full of surprises, old pal.” He claps me on the back.
“I’m about to make all your dreams come true, Charlie boy.” A wicked grin spreads over my mouth. When my foot hits the ground, I turn and face my best friend. “Want to come play torture the bastard with me?”
ChapterEleven
Drew
We head into the changing area, and I hand Charlie a set of black boots and black overalls. After hanging our clothes in the lockers, we head out of the bright light into the darkened dungeon.
“How many prisoners are currently enjoying your hospitality?” he asks as we walk past four rusted iron doors, making a beeline for the door at the end of the corridor.
My chest rumbles with silent humor. “Just the one, but we’ve been at full capacity plenty of times in the past.”
“You work alone or with help?”
“Mostly alone, but I pull in reinforcements as I need them. Most times we’ve had to blow the compounds to kingdom come with all the monsters trapped inside, but if we can grab a few of the bastards to take home for questioning, we do it. None of them know who’s controlling it from the top, but we’ve gotten enough intel over the last few years to piece things together.” We stop at the door. “Torturing the sick pricks helps keep me sane. If I didn’t slake my bloodlust on these assholes, the slow nature of our progression would have made me crazy years ago.”
“There is no feeling close to the feeling you get gutting a motherfucker.” Charlie agrees, grinning as we share an excited look.
“Feels like old times.” A familiar surge of adrenaline courses through my veins.
“Yeah.” His grin fades a little. “Those weren’t always fun times though.”
“We made the best of them,” I remind him as I punch in the code on the door. Taking the masks from my pocket, I hand him one. “For the smell.” I offer him a set of plastic gloves next.
