25. Hunting the Leak
Hunting the Leak
Roman
War is not won with bullets.
It’s won with information.
And right now, information is bleeding out of my house like an open wound.
I stand in the data room again, screens glowing in layered grids—movement logs, financial routing, comms traffic.
Patterns.
Always patterns.
“If someone inside is feeding them,” Viktor says, arms crossed, “they’ll bite again.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“Then we give them something to bite.”
I turn slightly, already assembling it.
A lie.
Precise.
Believable.
Traceable.
“We move Vera tomorrow,” I say. “Short convoy. Limited security. Clinic route extended to a new drop point.”
Viktor’s brow tightens.
“That’s exposure.”
“It’s bait.”
He studies me for a moment.
“Controlled?”
“Completely.”
Every detail will be sealed.
Segmented.
Fed through different channels.
Each version slightly altered.
Different times.
Different routes.
Different guard rotations.
Whoever leaks it reveals themselves.
“Distribute through tiered pipelines,” I order. “Internal only. No cross-confirmation.”
Viktor nods.
“And Orlov?” he asks.
“I’ll handle him.”
Orlov arrives within the hour.
Always efficient.
Always composed.
“The city’s stabilizing,” he says as he steps into the room. “Your announcement worked.”
“For now.”
I slide a file across the table.
“We’re moving Vera tomorrow.”
His eyes flick down.
Reading.
Processing.
“Necessary?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Where.”
“New clinic extension.”
He looks up at me.
Interested.
Too interested.
“How secure?”
“Secure enough.”
A faint pause.
Then a nod.
“I’ll adjust external monitoring.”
His tone is smooth.
Perfect.
But there’s a slight shift in his posture.
Subtle.
Eager.
Like a man who just received something useful.
I file it away.
“Keep it contained,” I say.
“Of course.”
He leaves without another question.
Too clean.
Too easy.
Father Angelo is next.
I don’t summon him.
He arrives on his own.
Of course he does.
“I hear the city is calming,” he says, stepping into the room like he belongs there.
“It’s quieter,” I reply.
“For now.”
He smiles faintly.
“Peace is always temporary.”
I study him carefully.
“We’re moving Vera tomorrow.”
His expression doesn’t change.
Not even slightly.
“Are you,” he says softly.
“Yes.”
“No concern?”
“Should I have one.”
A pause.
Then that same calm smile.
“You always should.”
Not interested.
Not surprised.
Not reactive.
Too calm.
It rings.
Loud.
By nightfall, the surveillance grid is live.
Every pipeline monitored.
Every message tracked.
Every whisper captured.
I stand in the observation room as data streams across the screens.
“Movement,” Viktor says.
One feed isolates.
Encrypted channel.
Outbound.
Fast.
“Which pipeline?” I ask.
“Tier three,” he replies.
Orlov’s tier.
My gaze sharpens.
“Trace it.”
“Already running.”
The signal bounces twice.
Then lands.
Location locks.
I step closer to the screen.
A warehouse district.
Not Rizzi territory.
Neutral ground.
Another feed activates.
Camera angle shifts.
Grainy.
Distant.
But clear enough.
Orlov steps into frame.
Impeccable as always.
Untouched by urgency.
He checks his watch.
Then someone else approaches.
A rival boss.
Not Bellini.
Not Koval.
Independent.
Dangerous.
They don’t argue.
They don’t posture.
They shake hands.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Familiar.
Like this isn’t their first meeting.
My chest goes cold.
“Audio?” I ask.
“Too far,” Viktor says.
I don’t need it.
The body language says enough.
Orlov leans slightly closer.
Says something.
The rival smiles.
A small nod.
Agreement.
Then they separate.
Clean.
Efficient.
Invisible.
If you weren’t looking for it.
I step back slowly.
Everything aligns.
The push toward war.
The “remove the liability.”
The access to internal rosters.
The timing.
The leaks.
Not Bellini.
Not external.
Inside.
At my table.
I think of every conversation.
Every recommendation.
Every quiet suggestion that nudged me closer to escalation.
Orlov’s voice echoes in my mind.
Remove the liability.
My jaw tightens.
“Confirm frequency of contact,” I say.
“Working,” Viktor replies.
But I already know.
This wasn’t a first meeting.
This was continuation.
I look at the screen again.
At the man who has stood beside me.
Advised me.
Helped build my empire.
The man who smiles like precision.
The smiling knife.
And I realize something that settles deep and cold in my chest—
I’m not just hunting the enemy.
I’ve been feeding him.
Inviting him closer.
Trusting him.
Sleeping with him at my table.
And now—
I need to decide how to kill him without burning everything down with him.