The feed cuts to where she enters the building and crosses the lobby. I see red at the scene that plays out in front of me. The biggest of the two men has his meaty hand locked around her arm. He’s a fucking dead man. Both of those men are.
The second man follows them to the open reception area. The men keep their faces turned away from the cameras, but Tatiana isn’t so careful. She’s glancing around her like someone who’s impatient, appearing calm on the outside, but I can tell she’s nervous by the way she keeps on trying to tuck her hair behind her ear when it’s tied into a bun.
A banker approaches them with a few papers that they sign, and then he leads them to the vault.
Reino straightens. “That’s where the feed ends.”
Son of a bitch.
I saw the news coverage of the explosion. The target was Prosperity Bank, situated a few blocks from where I found Tatiana. The media made it out to have been a bank robbery gone wrong, hence I didn’t think much about it.
Not for a single moment did I consider that Tatiana could’ve been involved in that explosion. Plus, there was nothing about her being wanted for questioning on the news, which is strange, to say the least.
Yet the facts align. The homemade bomb went off in the bank’s vault minutes before Tatiana called Emily from the clothing store.
Anger pulses in my temples. “Why are we only learning about this now?”
“The police report is being kept top secret. Our snitch had a hard time getting his hands on it. I attached it to the email I sent you. Mrs. Morici signed forms under the name of Ms. Delacy, giving her fiancé and bodyguard access to her safe deposit box.”
I grind my teeth. “What about those two motherfuckers? Have you IDed them?”
“That part was easy.” Reino pulls up two autopsy photos on his phone. “It’s not a pretty sight. Both were killed in the explosion.”
Pity. I was looking forward to hacking them to pieces.
From a private album on his phone, he accesses two mugshots of the fuckers before they got their brains blown out. “They were carrying false IDs.”
The man who posed as the fiancé had a word in Cyrillic script tattooed on his neck.
I clench my hands into fists on the desk. “Bratva?”
“Mercenaries. They weren’t tied to any organizations.”
“Why isn’t there anything about them or Tatiana in the news?”
“That information hasn’t been made public yet. The ATF wants to keep it under wraps until they have a solid lead on any affiliations the victims might’ve been associated with.”
“That’s not their modus operandi.” Unless… “ICE is involved.”
“Correct.” Reino widens his stance and hooks a thumb in his belt. “They suspect the victims were involved in some of the Russian drug operations under DEA investigation. The drug case has top priority because the organizations involved are also linked to illegal arms smuggling.”
“They don’t want to spook the Russians’ cronies before they’ve dug out all the information they can. They’re hoping they’ll get evidence that could lead to an arrest.”
“Correct, again. As they’re not sure how Tatiana fits into everything, they prefer to play it safe.” He adds with caution, “They would’ve traced Noah’s birth certificate to her false name.”
“I’m not worried about that. I got our hacker to change the records soon after I found her.”
“Good thinking.”
“The bomb?”
“Standard stuff. Any amateur could’ve built it. It was left in a safe box with a trip wire connected to the lid.”
I ponder that. “So setting it off was simple. It only required opening the box.”
His voice drops. “The box was rented in Ms. Delacy’s name. The bank manager told the police investigator she only rented that one box.” He watches me solemnly. “Why would she let them open a boobytrapped safe box if she were present? What were they doing there with Mrs. Morici? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
There can only be one reason why Tatiana would’ve been in the vault of a bank.
