38. Maksim
Strike.
Scream.
Strike.
Scream.
That’s the cycle I’ve been repeating for fifteen minutes with an Albanian soldier who won’t explain how ten children left their territory in a single shipment.
“I swear I don’t know anything! I only received instructions to get them on that vessel, that’s all.”
I believe him. It’s just not what I wanted to hear, so I need an outlet for my disappointment.
Six souls we couldn’t save because they had already arrived at God knows which port on the planet.
The head of the Albanian mafia in San Francisco seems to have developed a fondness for the money that comes from human trafficking, and with the entire system Ivan built, continuing without the operation’s architect at the helm wasn’t difficult.
They still have key people in place willing to risk a lot just to keep the money flowing.
My fist connects with his jaw, and I know from the sound it makes that I’ve broken it.
Damn it.
I walk to the sink, resolved to leave before I kill him, when my eyes land on the phone I’d set aside.
My blood goes cold when I see an alert from Amalia, sent an hour ago, from her panic button.
I already know Juls received the same notification, but she is in Colombia, where Akim and Andrea needed help with some groups of children who had been brought there.
If she hasn’t called me yet, it means she hasn’t seen it either, so my hand is on the phone immediately and I call her directly.
It takes her several long seconds to answer, and my chest tightens with a sharp pull because I know what news I’m about to give her.
“Sí, amor.”
“Juls, Amalia has been taken.”
A silence of a few seconds follows, during which I send a message for the private plane to be ready for takeoff. I’ve already lost an hour. Why didn’t I check my phone more often?
“I’m leaving now. Maksim...”
“None of them will still be breathing when it’s over, Julia. Te lo juro.”
I look at her coordinates one more time on the phone, and I already know it’s going to take us several hours to reach her, even by plane. I go to where I keep the grenades and take a few. My hand moves to two blades that are waiting to meet the skin of the men who took her.
All I can hope is that she stays calm. That she doesn’t give them anything to use against her. That she doesn’t try to be brave and do something reckless.
I feel my chest tighten, and I know it’s for Julia, who right now is probably losing her mind trying to find a flight to reach her sister.
Three months ago we allowed them to be taken by Aleksandr, and that’s a mistake neither of us has forgiven ourselves for. But now?—
What happened? Could these be associates of Ivan’s who made the connection between us and her? How did they find her?
Before I board the plane, my last thought is how much blood will be spilled if I don’t find Amalia unharmed.