Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
S AINT
Even after the pool incident, I’m still determined to convince people that our engagement is real. Because that’s the only way I can keep Emerald and her siblings safe—and I’m determined not to let them down.
I shake my head. Why the hell am I even thinking about this right now? I’m supposed to be working, and being a heartless asshole serves me well in my particular line of work.
I need to focus. More money’s been taken from the casino. Money’s been siphoned off from the casino bank accounts and sent to offshore accounts in Switzerland, then gone by a convoluted route through Cyprus and Malta to Italy. We still don’t know who the traitor is or if it’s going to lead to the Feds coming down on the Imperiosi.
There’s no doubt that the whole thing has a sophisticated set up, but all the leads I’ve followed keep coming to a fucking dead end. Several of those leads confirmed that the Italian involved with the Croatians was indeed an Imperiosi man, but that’s where the trail died and stayed that way.
I’ve also had a guy, Dale, doing a forensic investigation on the casino’s IT systems. He’s been identifying vulnerabilities in the cybersecurity system and analyzing digital evidence to try and reconstruct how the money could have been taken in the first place.
It’s taken him a while—it’s been far from straightforward—but he’s convinced some of the money is being siphoned off by a hacker called Kevin Anderson. This Anderson guy used to work for the NSA, so he’s obviously a smart guy. I just hope he’s the guy I’m looking for.
I feel adrenaline surge in me at the thought of finally tracking down who’s responsible for this whole shitshow. Dale gives me the location for the hacker, and as soon as I have that address, I’m over there like a shot.
The hacker lives in upstate New York. Normally, I’d stake out the place to make sure of his movements before moving in, but this whole problem and the associated dangers have been going on for far too long now, and my patience is worn thin. So, I do the next best thing to get intel on the hacker—I ask his neighbor.
After watching Kevin go out for a run, I take the elevator up to the third floor of the apartment block. I’ve searched who else lives on this floor, and I’ve selected the lady opposite him as the best option.
Knocking at her door, I wait until I hear her approaching. Moments later, I meet the stare of a woman who must be around seventy-five.
She frowns at me as the door creaks open. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Wilkins?”
“That’s right,” she clips.
“I’m looking for some information on your neighbor, Kevin Anderson.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “The man’s a scumbag. He beat his kid once. DCFS were around like a shot, and the kid got taken into care. He was only nine. I just hope the poor kid’s happy and safe now.”
Just as I thought, the old dear knows everything that goes on with her neighbors. “Hmm, he sounds a bad sort.”
“He sure is,” she huffs. She peers at me from over her thick glasses with a quizzical look. “Who, again, did you say you are?”
I spy a small dog behind her and immediately know she must be an animal lover. “I’m from animal control. We had an anonymous report that Kevin might be mistreating an animal.”
She runs her beady eyes over me, from head to toe, taking in my all-black outfit. If she doesn’t believe the animal control line, I’ll tell her it was a slip of the tongue and I’m actually an undertaker and Kevin has called me in to arrange a funeral. I just won’t mention that it’s his own.
“Animal control, you say?”
“Yeah.”
She looks at me with narrowed eyes. Uh oh . I know that look. It’s a look that means she’s gonna be fucking trouble. I suppress my sigh. I might have to take her out too. I was hoping to get home in time for dinner.
“You mean you’re one of those guys who takes animals to the pound when they get put down?”
“No, um, of course not.” I clear my throat. “We’re a private animal control facility,” I say as smoothly as possible. “Once we collect the, er, adorable fluffy darlings, we rehome them through our ‘Cuddle Up With A Floofball’ program—a program which I personally set up, I’ll have you know.”
Her eyes widen, and I can tell she’s impressed. Even I’m impressed at the lies I can come up with. “You say he’s mistreating an animal? I didn’t realize he had a pet, but if he’s got one, I wouldn’t put it past him to be treating it badly. What do you need to know?”
“Everything you can tell me…”
She ends up inviting me in for tea and homemade cookies, and I sit back on her sofa, listening as she tells me everything I need to know about Kevin’s movements. His daily routine, his visitors, the comings and goings of the other neighbors. And by the time I’ve polished off my third cookie, I’ve got all I need to put my plan into action.
* * *
At 11 p.m. that night, I pick the lock of Kevin’s apartment and slip inside. Mrs. Wilkins told me that she’s in bed by 8 p.m. and that Kevin’s other neighbor works nights, so I reckon this is the best time to have an uninterrupted chat with Kevin.
Walking silently into his lounge, I see him sitting at a huge desk with six screens, numerous speakers, and various other equipment and wires all over the place. He looks like a fucking man-child. He is playing some video game and eating candy while wearing his hoodie and Snoopy slippers. I mean, fucking Snoopy slippers.
I sigh. I was hoping for someone who might be more of a challenge.
“Hello, Kevin.”
He spins around in his gaming chair. And his face drops.
Within the next ten minutes, I’ve got Kevin gagged and tied to a chair, and I’ve taped a tarpaulin over the floor.
I bend down to look him in the eye. “Now, I asked you nicely what you’ve been up to and who you’ve been working for. But if you’re not going to play ball, we’ll have to try another method.” And I get to work.
I can practically feel the aggression radiating off me and can’t wait for the smell of blood to sting my nostrils.
He can’t stop his limbs from shaking or the tears leaking down his face as I regard him with a twisted smile.
I stalk toward him as he struggles against the rope binding him to the wooden chair.
“One last chance, Kevin,” I say as I yank down the gag.
“W-what are you going to d-do to m-me?” His voice quivers like a cup of Jell-O, but he still won’t answer my questions.
“You’ll see.”
“I didn’t do anything. Please believe me. I just use this stuff to play computer games and…and watch porn, I swear!”
Shaking my head, I pull the gag back up and unpack my equipment. Implements of torture.
Knives for different purposes—stabbing, carving, skinning. Pliers. A chain saw. An axe. Oh, I’m going to have some fun tonight.
I feel a bead of sweat drip down my back as the adrenaline builds, my breaths shallow.
Kevin’s eyes are wide, and he looks like he’s going to puke.
I break all his fingers on one hand in turn. Relishing the crack as each bone splinters.
“No…!” he screams in a muffled voice.
Asking him the same questions again, and getting no answer, I pick up my carving knife.
“Please!” he tries to beg through the gag.
And I stab his shoulder and twist the knife in.
That gets me a few answers from him—confirmation through his sobbing that he did hack into the casino server and siphon off the money.
When his answers dry up, it’s time to slice at his arms, leaving the length of them adorned with beautiful cuts.
He begs me to believe that he knows nothing else. But I need to know who he’s working for.
The gag back on, I hear the muffles of his tormented cries as I inflict pain upon pain on him.
And finally, by the time he’s barely conscious, I finally believe that he doesn’t know the identity of who he’s working for. They’ve been smart enough to act via an anonymous channel on the dark web.
Ending Kevin’s miserable life, I toss my blood-soaked knife to the ground. And hitting a number on my cell, I instruct the clean-up crew to get moving.
There is nothing more here for me. Fuck. I shake my head. I’m closer to finding the traitor, but not close enough.
And even though I got to kill someone tonight, my soul isn’t in any way soothed. And instead, I find myself looking forward to going home to Emerald.
* * *
On my way home, I swing by the casino to speak to Christian about my progress with the investigation. At the end, I also update him about the Emerald situation.
Just then, one of our soldiers comes into the office and hears me mention Emerald. “Saint, you marrying Emerald Fiorelli is just a joke, right? Haha, very funny,” Alberto chuckles.
“And what exactly is so funny?” I say in a low, ominous tone. “Because I’m deadly serious.”
But Alberto is as thick as shit and doesn’t take the hint. “Come on, Saint! You can’t be serious. I bet you a hundred grand that you’ll never lower your standards to actually marry someone like Emerald. Ronnie didn’t want her, and well, she is a bit big. And everyone still calls her a whore and a gold digger, so there must be some truth behind the rumors…”
I take a stride forward, but Christian gets between me and Alberto. “Get the fuck out of here, Alberto,” he growls. And once he’s gone, Christian turns to me. “We need to focus on the Carmine threat. Don’t waste your energy on a dumb fuck like Alberto. You can deal with him later down the line.”
I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.
“But judging by that reaction from Alberto and what happened at your shitshow of an engagement party, you and Emerald have still got a hell of a long way to go to convince people that you’re really in love and that she means the world to you.”
“Don’t worry about that, Christian. I’ve got it all under control.”
“She’s not one of your assassination plans,” he says in a careful tone. “She’s a real person with real emotions.”
“So?”
“So, things might not be as simple as you think.”
“Look, Christian, I’ve got her and this situation under control. Just like I’ve always got everything in my life under complete fucking control.”
Yeah, famous last words and all that …