Chapter 34
SOFIA
Isit in the backseat of Frankie’s car as he drives to my office. In the passenger seat, Gio is staring out the window. It was no question who was going to ride shotgun. I’m not the person who owns a gun, so I ruled myself out from the get-go.
I take the time to center myself. This is going to be harrowing.
I try to remind myself to keep it simple.
All I have to do is get Mr. Harlan to insert the drive into his computer.
After that, the work that Gio’s man did will take over.
We’ll get full access to the newspaper’s servers, which hopefully means that we’ll be able to see exactly what Danny was working on.
I’ll also be able to recoup my files, and who knows, maybe I’ve got some hidden gems in my notes and photos that I overlooked before.
I was so narrowly focused on Francisco Corello, I might have not even noticed one of Carlo Andretti’s men.
I’m anxious to cross-check what Danny told me against the evidence I collected.
I’ll be able to do all that and more if I can just carry out this one thing.
Frankie skips the parking garage and parallel parks on the street. He turns around to look at me, his eyes full of concern. Gio doesn’t share the same sympathy. He simply hands me the drive and nods.
I take it from him, slipping it into my pocket.
It’s game time. I put on my penitent face, ready to pretend that I want my job back.
I must sell this as hard as I can, making it look natural and obvious.
I have to make him want to accept the drive from me and to plug it into his hardware without any questions.
It’s more of an undercover operation than I’ve ever been involved with before, but I think I can do it.
“We’ll be right here,” Frankie says.
“I’ll be okay,” I mutter.
“Put your back to the window if you have a problem,” Gio instructs. “We can see your office from here.” He points to the third floor where the bullpen is. He’s right; there’s a large bank of windows facing the street and if I stand right next to it, I’ll be visible from the outside.
“Got it,” I say, climbing out of the car.
I hurry across the street and into the building.
Since I sent my letter to HR, I’m worried that my key card won’t work.
But they haven’t gotten around to locking me out yet, which says more about their lax security than it does about my luck.
I wave to the security guard, anyway, pretending that it’s just a normal day at work. He waves back, thinking nothing of it.
I hop in the elevator and ride up to my floor.
When the doors open, I shake my nerves out and head straight for Mr. Harlan’s office.
He’s on the phone again, but he puts it down as soon as he sees me.
There’s a strip of glass just beside the door for decoration that allows people to see inside.
He waves me in, standing up to greet me.
“I’m glad to see you,” Harlan says. “I hope you’re reconsidering your resignation.”
“I am,” I agree.
“Good,” he snaps, “because I was concerned when I heard from HR yesterday.”
He didn’t try to call me, so he couldn’t have been too concerned, but I don’t mention that. I’m trying to win him over this time, so confronting him about his motivation doesn’t seem like the right move.
“You know I’ve been working on the story about the Corello family,” I say.
“Yes, and you lost your research,” Mr. Harlan reminds me.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “I decided to go back to the drawing board, and I invited Frankie Corello over to my apartment.”
Mr. Harlan’s face goes white. His jaw drops open, and for a moment, he’s speechless. “That was extremely dangerous.”
“I know,” I reply quickly. “But I think it’s worth it. I have a confession from him on tape.” I pull out the flash drive and hold it up.
“Let me see that,” Harlan demands.
I hand it over, knowing that I’m within firing distance of a clean shot. All I have to do is keep the momentum going, and he’ll do the rest of the work on his own. Gio explained that the program is designed to run in the background, so that Mr. Harlan won’t be aware until it’s too late.
“Frankie Corello is working for his father laundering money,” I say, quickly. “He also collects for his father when someone doesn’t want to pay too.”
“Frankie Corello?” Mr. Harlan asks, as if fact-checking before diving in. He holds the device between his thumb and forefinger, studying it as if the red plastic casing holds all the answers. “I wasn’t aware that Frankie was a hands-on kind of guy. Isn’t he studying to become a lawyer?”
“Apparently, he has other functions in the family,” I say, pulling up a seat. I plant my butt, giving Harlan an unspoken cue to sit down himself.
He follows my lead, just like I planned, but he still doesn’t fit the drive into his port. I wait anxiously, trying not to look like I’m dying to get out of here. “I’m not sure if I believe it,” Harlan says finally.
“Why?” I demand. “Do you think I would do something like this?”
The question is just close enough to an accusation to give my former boss pause. He looks at me critically, trying to figure out what I know. I stare back at him, not backing down.
Finally, Harlan looks down at his laptop. He puts the flash drive into the USB port and clicks the folder open. The moment the video begins, I know that we’ve won. If I can just keep Mr. Harlan talking so that he doesn’t notice the secret program running in the background, we’ll be good.
Frankie’s voice comes over the laptop’s embedded speakers.
It sounds distant until Harlan turns up the volume.
I have Frankie’s ‘confession’ memorized.
It was short and to the point. I keep imagining Danny as I found him, lying dead on the couch.
It’s all I can do not to cry, but I have to keep it together. This is all for my brother.
Mr. Harlan looks up at me with a look I can’t quite read. “How did you get this recording?”
“I confronted him about his family,” I say, allowing my voice to quiver. “He thinks I’m his girlfriend, so he was motivated to tell me the truth.”
Mr. Harlan considers what he’s just learned. I can see the wheels turning in his head; he wants to tell Carlo Andretti as soon as possible. “May I keep this?” he asks.
I freeze. I don’t want him to have the drive because if he looks at it too closely, I’m worried he’ll see evidence of the hidden program. “I need it back,” I say. “I’m going to nail him to the wall just as soon as I figure out how I can get him to confess his father killed my brother.”
“I think the paper would be a safer place for it,” Harlan pushes back.
“Excuse me, but I no longer work for the paper,” I reply.
“But you said you were going to come back,” Mr. Harlan argues. “I can call HR right now and tell them to delete your email.”
“Let me think about it,” I insist, holding my hand out for the drive.
Mr. Harlan plucks it from his laptop but doesn’t hand it over. “You’re upset. I think if you take a moment to think about this, you’ll understand. This confession should go to the police.”
“I’ll make sure it does when the time comes,” I promise.
“Sofia,” Mr. Harlan begins, doing his best to seem sympathetic while hanging on to the evidence.
“Please,” I say, putting all my heartache into the word. “I only want to see my brother’s killer brought to justice.”
Harlan sighs, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.
He’s acting like a teenager who’s just been handed the answers to his final exam.
He doesn’t want to relinquish control, and he’s worried that he won’t get it back.
He thinks that video is the answer to all his prayers, and a way to provide even more value for the scum he’s working for. But I’m not leaving without the drive.
I stretch my hand out again, and this time he passes it over. I can see he’s unhappy about it, but I don’t care. Now my thoughts shift to getting out of the office as quickly as possible. I rise to my feet, forcing myself to concentrate so I don’t seem too eager.
“I appreciate you looking at this,” I say, sliding the drive into my pocket. “It means a lot that you’re here to support both me and Danny.”
“Anything I can do to help,” the slimy serpent says.
I hate him with every fiber of my being now. The fact that he can sit there and say such a thing to me, knowing that he’s involved in my brother’s death, is a blow to the gut. I inhale deeply to find my calm. I can’t accuse him of anything right now. I need to get out of here and back to the car.
“I’ll let you know whether I can come back to work,” I promise.
“Don’t think too long,” he warns me.
“I’ll give you my answer in the morning,” I say.
I take the opportunity to leave, hoping that he won’t follow me. I set my shoulders, walking through the bullpen at a normal clip even though I wish I could run. I make it back to the elevator without anyone chasing me. I ride down in silence, knowing there are cameras watching my every move.
I wave to the guard on my way out, hoping this is the last time. I walk across the streets, my legs feeling like jelly. I climb back into the car before letting out my frustration in a stream of curses.
Frankie and Gio sit there listening to me go off. After a moment, Gio laughs and Frankie tries hard not to. I dig into my pocket and pull out the flash drive. Handing it back to Gio, I buckle my seatbelt.
“Let’s go,” I snap.
“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie teases.
He pulls away from the curb and speeds off into the city, leaving the office of that sinister culprit far behind. The more space we put between us and the newspaper, the better I feel.
“So,” Frankie says after a few minutes, “what happened?”
“He didn’t believe that you would confess to me that you work for your father,” I report. Gio looks over at Frankie, and I can see some kind of secret exchange taking place. I decide to nip that in the bud. “I told him that I tricked you and that you still have feelings for me.”