"That's irregular—"
"That's the deal. You want her testimony, you accept my terms."
Morris looked at Valentina, who stood beside her mother. "Ms. DeLuca?"
"He stays," Valentina said. "His people stay. Non-negotiable."
Morris sighed. "Fine. But they answer to me on-site."
"They answer to me," I corrected. "We coordinate with you."
We locked eyes. She broke first.
"I'll clear it with my superiors."
I called Domenico the moment they started setting up recording equipment.
"Get three of our best here within six hours," I said. "Armed, experienced, loyal. They supplement FBI security but report only to us."
"You don't trust the feds?"
"I trust Valentina's life to no one else." I watched agents position cameras. "FBI's competent, but Marco's desperate. I want our own backup layer they don't know about."
"On it. Sending Dario, Luca, and Teresa. They'll blend as civilians." A beat of silence. "One thing—the Accord. Pennsylvania plates in Scottsdale might as well be a billboard. I'll have someone swap them for local tags tonight."
I should have thought of it myself. We'd driven halfway across the country in a forgettable car with plates that screamed exactly where we'd come from. "Do it. And check whether any traffic cameras flagged us on the way in."
"Already running it
They started recording at four p.m.
I sat behind mirrored glass in Sofia's converted office, watching Valentina face three cameras and two prosecutors.
She wore simple clothes—a navy skirt, a white blouse. No makeup. Hair pulled back.
She looked younger. Vulnerable.
Then she started talking, and the vulnerability vanished.
"I arrived at Senator Richard Caldwell's office on Friday, March seventeenth, at approximately two-fifteen p.m.," she began, voice steady. "I was there to finalize wedding arrangements. Specifically, to review the seating chart for the reception at the Fairmont Copley Plaza."
Lead prosecutor James Rivera leaned forward. "What happened next?"
"Richard received a phone call. He stepped away from his desk but remained in the office. I was reviewing documents when I noticed his computer screen."
"What did you see?"
Valentina's photographic memory was devastating.
She recited email headers verbatim. Named senders and recipients. Provided exact dates, times, and subject lines.
"The email was from Miguel Cordero to Richard Caldwell, dated March sixteenth at eleven-forty-three p.m. Subject line: 'Tuesday delivery confirmation.' The body contained shipping manifests for weapons transfers through DeLuca Properties and Development. Specifically, two hundred AR-15 rifles, fifty thousand rounds of ammunition, and forty kilograms of Semtex plastic explosive."
Rivera stopped writing. "You remember all this exactly?"
"I have eidetic memory. Perfect visual recall." She met his eyes. "I can recite the entire email if you'd like. Including the Cayman Islands account numbers for payment."
Behind the glass, I heard Agent Morris whisper, "Jesus Christ."
