Chapter 45
We pull up in front of a quaint antique store.
"This is the place?"
I break into a smirk. "What were you expecting? A dodgy location with a signpost saying: open for illegal activities."
A guard opens my door. I climb out and round the car. Hadassah joins my side.
"*koko de matte tete*," I say to the rest of my men.
She and I enter the store. The bell chimes as the shop door opens. I glance at the vintage welcome sign. We come inside, bombarded by the smell of lacquer, musty cloth, pot-pourri and leather. Hadassah's eyes gloss over the narrow aisles with table displays on both sides, sunlight glimmering off silver and crystal, oil paintings in elaborately carved frames hanging on the walls. A display of gilt mirrors worn with age, antique wood cabinets filled with dainty figurines, collectible plates, china cups, de-silvered thimble collections.
I listen to the scrape of warped draws being pulled open. I saunter to the front desk.
Emerson is hunched over habitually behind the desk, his round glasses clinging to the edge of his aquiline nose that has a bulgy bridge.
"Go back."
I frown.
He repeats it again whilst still rummaging through his draws like I'm not here.
"Excuse me?"
"Go back." He slams one draw close and looks around furtively, then goes to the window, sticking his fingers between the blinds to peer into the street. "I can't help you. Bad for business. News is spreading in the underworld, Santos reclaiming power after Orian massacred a bulk of his brother's army. And now Orian is after you—" he stretches his neck to look behind me at Hadassah, "—and the girl. There are rumours that he even reached out to the head of the Yakuza to help find you. And I don't want to be the one standing in his way."
"So you'll stand in mine?"
He frees a wobbling laugh. "Every day. I'm more scared of your brother than I am of you."
I slip my hands into my pockets, nodding understandably. "Of course, he built his rep by earning respect through fostering fear. I built mine using strategy, networking, the occasional bribe and my personal favourite. Blackmail."
He bristles. He knows what I'm insinuating. "You wouldn't..."
I lift a careless shoulder. "I am my brother's brother. My measures of cruelty are just less bloody. But just as painful."
He yields, releasing a long-defeated sigh. "Bring her."
He takes us to the back of the shop. We enter a square-shaped passageway with two doors on the sides and a towering bookcase ahead of us. He splits the row of books at the midsection, revealing a touchpad. He allows it to scan his biometrics. It lights up with green before the entire bookcase retracts back and slides to the left, exposing the secret room.
We go inside. Emerson directs her to stand in front of the blank backdrop with an on-stand camera at the ready. After photoshooting all her profiles, signing a few things, he concludes the process by taking her prints on the LiveRegister identification hardware.
"Should be done in several days."
I flare a brow.
"Several hours," he adjusts.
"I'll send my men to pick it up. And I'll make sure to leave a nice tip."
"How generous of you," he says dryly.
"I try."
Hadassah and I exit the store.
"So what allies did you have in mind?"
I look back at her, giving her a meaningful smile. "We only need one."
When we return to the villa, we go back to the study. And when I'm at the interactive table, I pull up the records on Tommaso Berlusconi. A skewed photo of him pops up in the corner along with a shallow account of his holdings and information about him. But there's only one I care about.
"Meet Tommaso Berlusconi, the second most powerful crime boss, in the Italian mafia, that is. But there were conjectures that he has ties to the Yakuza syndicate, which means..."
"He's likely to side with Orian."
"Tommaso is our best bet. He is the head of a formidable criminal organization that has control over everything from the street-corner drug trade to labour-union leadership to high-level politicians. Not to mention the resources and firepower that would prove to be a adequate defence against my brother and Santos. But if he really teamed up with Daku?" I free a whooshing breath. "It would mean the first world-wide shadow war."
She gives me a contemplative nod, then she looks at the grainy photo of Tommaso walking on the street with his entourage, smoking a cigarette.
"That doesn't sound good for business, either. Why would he want a part of this? And even if he is forced to choose a side. Why would he choose ours?"
I walk away to the corner table to retrieve the journal, and I hold it up. "What's more valuable than money? Secrets. Leverage. And if we can find all five of these books that contain vast knowledge about elite higher ups and information that could send organizations crumbling. He would want a piece of that."
Hadassah replies with a rigid headshake. "It's no guarantee. Like you said, you have to find all of them and still decode them. And the fact that it has remained as a shadowy legend until now. I'm guessing that it's not easy to find."
I shrug. "Tommaso is a prominent player in the game. He can't be bullied into an alliance. They wouldn't risk having another enemy against them. They can only offer him, what? Money? I have can offer him power. It's the best card we got, and considering that everyone knows Gaza was prepared to go to hell and back for that book. It already shows its value."
Hadassah bobs her brows. "Okay. Then how are you going to a get a sit-down with him?"
"Now that's the other reason why we're here. Tommaso owns strip clubs across the globe. But the one he frequently visits is in party capital of the world, Berlin. I already sent scouts that are watching his club. Whenever he makes an appearance, we'll know about it."
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