Chapter Twelve #2
“Jason tied these shell companies to Diaz’s operations,” he said. “He marked which ones belonged to Diaz directly, as well as any which appeared yours. I need you to tell me which remain active now, and the abandoned ones, as well as where he moved the rest.”
Roth glared at the page with enough heat I half-expected flames to erupt from the edges.
“Why the fuck would I help you?” he asked.
“Because Diaz isn’t coming for you,” Spade explained. “He doesn’t rescue liabilities. He cuts them loose. You’re down here because he decided you were more trouble than you’re worth. Your best shot at spiting him now is making sure when we come for him, we don’t miss.”
Roth laughed, short and bitter. “You think you can take him. You really think a back-roads motorcycle club is going to topple a man with the kind of money and muscle Diaz has.”
“We’re not going to stand on the highway and fire warning shots,” Spade countered. “We’re going to kick out the supports one at a time. You can either help us aim or sit down here and imagine his face when he realizes his right hand sold him out in the dark.”
Roth’s eyes went flat. “You’re a nasty piece of work.”
Spade leaned forward. “I grew up around men similar to Diaz. I know their games. So do the men in this room. We remain standing while you sit tied to a chair, and Jade walks free.”
Roth’s gaze locked onto mine. “What does she mean to you? Some trophy? Another mark on your bedpost? Will you get bored once the adrenaline wears off and find the next broken stray to fix?”
“No,” I said.
“You’ll get her killed. You believe yourself better than me. More noble. You’re not. The only difference? You stand on the opposite side of the same mess, pretending leather makes you righteous.”
“You talk too much,” I muttered, hearing the edge creep into my voice. I forced myself to back away.
Spade cleared his throat. “Fun as this seems, we’re burning daylight. Roth. The list.”
Roth stared at the printout. His shoulders slumped a little. When he spoke, his voice lost some of the slickness. More tired now. More real.
Roth squinted at the page. “Third from the top,” he said. “Diaz shut one down last year. Feds started sniffing. He moved everything through a different front. Name begins with L. Laundromat in the strip mall on the east side.”
Spade’s pen scratched across paper. “Next.”
Words spilled from Roth’s mouth, slow at first, then faster. He pointed down the list, explaining which companies still funneled money, which ones existed only as empty shells on paper, which ones Diaz had quietly sold or shifted to other men.
The information flowed beyond what Spade asked for. Random details emerged -- a name here, a habit there. Diaz preferred one port over another because bribes cost less.
I watched Spade absorb everything, eyes darting between his notebook and computer screen while my mind wandered. My stomach tightened as I stood listening to the criminal empire that nearly destroyed Jade reduced to bullet points and arrows on a chart.
At one point, Spade slid a photo across the table. Victor. Cigarette between his fingers, smirk halfway to full.
“How high does he sit?” Spade asked. “If Diaz is the head of this snake, is Victor the neck or just a pretty scale?”
Roth looked at the picture. Something mean and satisfied curled his mouth.
“He thinks he’s more important than he is,” Roth said. “Diaz lets him. Makes him feel special. Truth? He’s muscle with a face Diaz likes putting in front of certain people. Fancy messenger. Good at making a scene.”
“He outrank you?” General asked.
“In Diaz’s eyes?” Roth shrugged. “Depends on the day. Diaz likes having more than one man vying for his attention. Keeps us sharp. Or paranoid, if you want to be honest.”
“Where does he sleep?” Spade asked.
“Depends who Diaz wants to impress,” Roth replied. “Sometimes the city condos. Sometimes the compound outside town. Sometimes he gets sent to the ports for a month to babysit shipments.”
Spade made a note. “Good,” he said. “We’ll make sure we send him a thank-you card when we’re done with you.”
Roth’s lip curled as he addressed me. “You’re real smug for a man I watched sweep floors at your pathetic bar. Will you tell Jade about getting your hands dirty? Show her all the blood when you come home from a day at the office?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “If she wants to see.”
Roth stared at me as though I’d sprouted horns and a tail. “You’ll lose her. You’ll show her the monster under your skin and she’ll run.”
I stepped closer, letting him see my face clearly. “She walked into this clubhouse, looked me in the eye, and asked for help knowing full well we weren’t saints. You really think she doesn’t know what it takes to fight men like you and Diaz? She’s not stupid.”
His eyes flickered. For the first time I saw doubt there.
Spade tapped the pen on the pad. “Enough philosophizing. We’re going to shift gears. You gave us structure. Now I want soft spots. Men Diaz trusts with his schedule. Places he thinks nobody knows he goes. Women he keeps around. Kids. Family.”
Roth stiffened. “You said this was about business.”
“It is,” Spade said. “But men like Diaz tie business to blood. I’m not asking because I want to hurt his kids.
I’m asking because I want to know who he holds close enough to make him think twice before he burns a building with civilians inside.
We need pressure points. You give me names, we don’t touch them unless we have to.
But I’m not walking into this blind. Not with our people on the line. ”
Roth’s eyes darted to each of us. “You swear you won’t touch them. His wife. His little girl.”
Wife. Little girl. Information we didn’t have five seconds ago.
Atilla’s gaze went sharp. “Why the sudden concern?” he asked. “You think Diaz would hesitate to put a bullet in Jade to make a point? Or one of the kids upstairs?”
Roth flinched. At least he seemed to have a sliver of a conscience.
General shifted. The floor creaked under his boots.
“Diaz already put those people at risk. By tying their lives to his business. By dragging them into his orbit. We don’t shoot kids.
We don’t shoot women who didn’t pick this.
We hit him where he thinks he’s untouchable.
That might mean letting certain family members know they’re safer if they’re on a plane out of the country when this goes down. ”
Roth swallowed. “You’d warn them.”
I watched General nod. “We’re not Diaz, and we’re not you. We don’t kill to make a point. We kill to stop men from making more bodies.”
Roth stared down at the table. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper when he finally spoke.
“Elena. His wife. Married twelve years now. She acts clueless about where the money comes from. Maybe she believes her own act, maybe not. The daughter turned nine last month. Sofia. Diaz melts around her -- calls her his princess. The man tortures people without blinking but show him a photo of Sofia and he’ll freeze mid-sentence. ”
Spade wrote both names down. “Addresses.”
Roth hesitated.
Atilla stepped closer. “You give us this, you get something besides a bullet. We make sure they walk away when this ends. Not rich. Not with his blood money. But alive. I give you my word.”
Roth looked at him. Really looked. Something in his shoulders sagged.
He rattled off an address for the city condo. Another for a house in a gated community outside town.
Spade typed them in, cross-checking with what he already had. “Matches. I saw those in the property records. Didn’t know who lived there. I do now.”
Roth laughed bitterly. “You boys don’t miss much.”
“Try not to,” Spade said. “Saves time.”
We grilled him for another hour. He talked about Diaz’s lieutenants. Men with nicknames and scars. The port foreman who took an extra cut and thought Diaz didn’t know. The cop on Diaz’s payroll who’d started drinking too much and might be a liability soon.
I filed the names away. Spade wrote and wrote.
Roth’s voice grew hoarse. Sweat ran down his neck. Once, when he shifted, he groaned, shoulders protesting from hours tied to the chair.
I should have felt something then. Pity, maybe. I didn’t. When Spade finally sat back and closed his notebook, I felt the energy in the room shift.
“That’s enough for now,” he said. “I need to plug this into my board before it leaks out of my ears.”
Roth licked his cracked lips. “So what now? You drag this out another day? Try to squeeze more out of me?”
Atilla walked forward until he stood right in front of Roth. “You gave us enough for now. But you did it for yourself. Don’t pretend otherwise. Regardless, it helped.”
Roth’s gaze flicked up. “You going to thank me?”
“No,” Atilla said. “I’m going to give you what Diaz wouldn’t.”
Roth’s throat worked. “A deal?”
“A clean ending,” Atilla said.
Silence settled.
Roth stared at him. “You said…” He swallowed. “I thought you needed more.”
Spade leaned back in his chair. “We got enough. You handed us framework, names, patterns. Jason’s notes will fill in whatever gaps remain. Letting you breathe beyond today would give Diaz more ways to track you down. I don’t want to offer him the opportunity.”
“You promised me --” Roth started.
“I promised not to touch Diaz’s family,” Atilla cut in. “I promised to use what you gave us to hurt him, not them. I didn’t promise you’d walk out of this cellar.”
Roth’s eyes flashed. “You lied.”
“No,” Atilla said. “I told you the truth you wanted to hear. You heard what you liked and ignored the rest. Same way you did with Diaz. You want to yell about fairness? You picked the wrong room.”
Roth laughed once, harsh. “So this is it. This is where you put a bullet in my head and dump me in a hole.”
General moved from the wall at last. He stopped beside Atilla.
I watched General’s face harden as he spoke. “I’ll never thank you, but I can acknowledge one decent thing in a pile of rot. Doesn’t wash the rest away. You get a choice, though.”