My eyelids felt heavy and my head was pounding like a motherfucker. I scan my surroundings I am still in the office. I had dozed off after the drinks, it's early morning on Saturday. The office was clear due to Soto's OCD issues. Shrugging off my sweaty shirt, I carry myself down the corridor, rubbing my eyes in frustration. I shouldn't have drunk all that. I am supposed to be more fucking vigilant. Lorenzo was fishing for details, poking me to get more information about Zara. Her scolding me for the curses he spoke in the kindergarten.
I heard the thuds of a punching bag, Remo was practicing in his office. It is a big compound previously built for a strip mall. We stay underground for the place meant for storage. The owner couldn't pay his debt so we took it from him. The hackers here, as Remo calls them 'kids'. Some of them are running from authorities, some from home. They have a place to sleep here. Remo doesn't say it, but he sees himself in them. One who doesn't have the liberty to got out. So he has chosen this room with no window as his home. He has a bed, a wardrobe, computers, books on one side and on the opposite, rests his gym equipment.
I change into my fighting shorts, wrap the bandage around my knuckles. I crook my fingers at him for a fight. He looked amused to see me awake and ready to fight this quick. We took our positions, Remo attempted to punch my abdomen, I jumped back.
"Zara." he said gruffly, advancing towards me. It was a low blow that I ended up ducking. He was trying to mess with my head but I did not lose my momentum this time. I pounced toward him again as we both failed to hit each other. Usually, I either win, or we end up calling it quits when someone breaks the fight after we have worn ourselves out. When he did not say anything further after taking her name my anger rose. My knuckles grazed past his waist.
"And...???" I spat, clenching my fists to the point my knuckles turned white.
"And nothing." he shrugged and gave me crooked smile. Rage gripped me as I landed a punch on his ribs. Before I could lose my cool and go ballistic, a knock came on the door.
Remo straightened up despite the pain he must be feeling. This time I gave him the triumphant look. "Come in." I shouted.
A tall boy with a malnutrition body feebly came inside. He paled, as his eyes bugged out of his socket. His one leg was out of the door frame as if it would save him from me if I decided to run after him. His lips trembled. Soon, his whole body began to shake. But he didn't break the eye contact. Remo pushed the water bottle on my chest to give the dude some breather before he would pass out from the lack of oxygen supply as he stood there like a fucking statue. I close my eyes and sipped on the water as I heard them say.
"What is it, Max." Remo's voice had turned down a notch as if Max would shatter into pieces from one loud noise.
Max, made a startling noise, "I-I am... I was just l-leaving. I c-c-c-completed the work."
I opened my eyes to find his eyes were already on me. Smart guy.
"You need overtime pay for that.?" I sneer. He shook his head hard and then ran after handing the flash drive to Remo. Remo jerked the door close after Max.
"You need to stop scaring them. They were scared out of their wits last night, many of them couldn't type anything because their hands are shivering." he groaned, pushing past me. He circled around the desk, on the wall behind he has a picture of Snowden. Lorenzo had placed a bet that Remo jerks off to it in private.
I chuckled, "I'll try." I mock him.
He put the flash drive in the computer, then did some typing at a lightning-fast speed. Showoff, I scoff. And sat on the edge of his desk turning my back to him. I clutch the hand gripper on both my hands and squeezed in as far as it could go. I needed to blow off some steam.
"Prepared for the launch." I ask Remo. He owns a company that creates online war games. He has dummy founders and developers there. They receive monthly payments, as Remo uses them as a front. The games are mostly inspired by our bust on rival's den.
"Almost done, kids are working on minor changes. Will launch as we had previously planned but it's not about that. I am working on the Pumpkin Patch operation." He said, I turned to find his eyes glued to the screen.
"You named it.?" I asked incredulously. We haven't discussed it yet as I was passed out like a pig. It appears we both agree that it's a bigger nexus. We don't have to name our bust. Barge in, shoot to kill, leave the weakest one alive to send the message. This is what we do best. Remo works like a computer and sometimes gives us command through his office. With the equipment he had convinced us to buy -because we all are technologically disabled- we can evade a small country.
"Another video was uploaded yesterday..." I raise my brow quizzically, "After the one we got in the morning. When you were on the way there. It was easy to crack. Here." He turned the monitor in my direction, I prop my forearm on the table and looked closely at the video. The man probably in his 40's was fucking a child, his mask had slipped off momentarily. It was enough to see his face and find out who the fuck was he. I looked at Remo in question.
"Steve Johnson, Bank manager. But after the video was uploaded our computer was hacked. 'Catch Me If You Can' the name of the virus." He said dryly, eyeing the man with disgust before closing the video.
I laughed at him, clapping his shoulder in mock support "The money we are spending for security is going down the drain."
He rolled his eyes, "I suspected that so I sacrificed one of the old computers." He said, removing my hand, flopping on the chair.
"They already knew we were after them." I growl, popping my knuckles. Ready to charge towards the 'kids'
"We don't have a rat, Gian. It took them a month to realize, Garcia had made a mistake in the coding. It's possible they were just looking at their masterpiece and found out the glitch. Suppose it's a man, he is arrogant and he is not uploading them. Just using Garcia."
"Any word about her.?" I ask in frustration.
"None and I don't think we will receive a body either. And that bank manager, died in an accident on his way to work yesterday. Before the video was even uploaded. That's what I was going to tell you yesterday."
I huff, my hands itched to pour another drink so I grabbed the clutch again. "Sounds like a dead end."
"It is. There is no trail to follow." he agreed.
My eyes snapped to him in anger, "Aren't you some kind of prodigy?" I snarl.
"I am. without going to school." he shrugged, There it is again. His favorite line. he never leaves the opportunity to milk it. As though he is some poor fucker who had build an empire from scratch.
"No one is unbeatable, Gian." He said in his good boy voice, opening the fridge. Retrieving all the vegetables he has there to blend in a fucking smoothie. He and his fucking 'kids' sip all day, without moving their hands from the keyboard. "It will probably take us a few months to find other links on the darknet. With more clues, more hackers will be engaged. It will drain our money and time. I need the kids. This is an age of digital war and I need my soldiers." He said haughtily. Motherfucker had wiped off data of student loans, and suddenly he is better than us.
"Or maybe I can alert the FBI." he said carefully. I threw both the hand clutches toward him, it hit the target. Then shot him a warning look. Police are on our payroll, along with some FBI agents. Those bastards can not be trusted. Remo had crossed a line by mentioning them. I need to be bossier with them like my father does with everyone else.
I close my eyes and groan in frustration, not liking this idea. I want to smash something... someone. Not sit back and wait for some entitled asshole who probably looks like Max to bait us.
"And about that girl, Zara Sinclair." he continued, watching me carefully. I neutralized my expression.
"I don't think she is a part of this." I say in a dismissive tone, prepared to leave.
"You don't or you just don't want to." he said cynically. I marched over and kicked his shin, his grin grew wider. I was mistaken to find only Lorenzo to be crazy enough to have a death wish. They are clones, physically, and mentally. "She is as noble as they come. She is Canadian."
"Could be a cover-up." I mutter turning to leave.
"If that's what you wanna believe." he said, his voice mocking me. I whirl around, grab him by the nape of his neck, and bang his head on the table. The smoothie spluttered covering half of his face and my hand. I twisted his arm behind his back. His other hand stayed limp on his side as he didn't try to fight me.
"Don't act fucking smart with me. And tell Lorenzo if he wants to gossip like a woman then he can accompany my mother to tea parties next time." I snarled near his ear. Then pushed back thundering out of the room.
*****
The whole week I operated like a workaholic. Arranged back to back meetings, took financial decisions like a gambler. Worked out in the gym like a mad bull. I was on the edge and I had to blow off some steam.
Friday evening, I reached my penthouse after completing the meeting early for our new hotel. The door to the private elevator opened. I stepped inside in the corner of the living room a woman was waiting for me as a new one does every day. Instead of going to her, I went to the bathroom took a long shower while she patiently waited.
Not bothering with a t-shirt, I approach her only in my denim jeans. She acted to feel shy like she wasn't naked and tied up spread eagle on the floor, by her pimp to serve me. We had lost our 12 good soldiers who died before they could have their climax because a lady contract killer was sent to them. I have full control over my testosterone level to fall into that trap, but I don't trust myself ever since I saw that kindergarten teacher.
I kneel beside her and wrap her brunette hair around my finger. She bit her lip in anticipation then screamed as I bunched her hair around my fist, pulling it in a merciless tug.
"What, no customer has ever done to done this to you before." I snarl sardonically, pulling her hair harder. She squirmed in pain, tears streamed down her cheeks, washing off her makeup.
"P-please, Mr. Armani." She pleaded with me wincing from the pain, tugging on the leash in vain. The noose around her thin wrist only became tighter.
"You should have thought of it before conspiring against me." I seethe, she screamed even harder. She can scream her throat raw, nobody can hear her. I pulled the tethers tighter on either side of her. Her hands pulled tightly in the opposite directions.
"I am not, Mr. Armani." She shook her head, "I am unarmed." She begged with me. Many have before, it never works.
"Of course." I chuckled darkly, "Unless you have a knife up your ass." I grimace and pull her hair once again, some of them ripped out from her scalp.
Until she spoke the truth, "I am sorry, Mr. Armani. I dyed my hair. I heard you needed a brunette so I dyed them from blonde to brunette." She whimpered, her face became an ugly mess with her smeared mascara and coats of makeup mixing with painful tears.
I roughly grabbed her chin and pulled her up. She bit her lip to muffle her screams. "You think you can fool me, puttana. I had you a year ago. You like the money you get from high rankers, huh.?"
"No... no... no. You treat me so nice. They don't, they use me, and they..." She trailed like she couldn't speak the word anymore. I leave her hair, her body dropped on the floor, her head hitting on the floor. She winced again.
I untied her hands, she did not move but her eyes were on me. I headed to the kitchen. She scrambled to her feet quietly and wore the clothes she had neatly piled on the corner. In her clothes, she looked like an office going women.
"Mr-" She started. I hold one finger up. Drinking my coffee.
"You are free. Don't bother going back to the sphere again." I say in a clipped tone. She gasped, she knew what that meant for her.
"Please, Mr-" I pointed my gun at her, it unlocked with a click. She ran off like a bullet, wobbling in her high heels.
I grabbed my car keys and hurried out. Within minutes, Shaina their madam called. She was their manager and earned in so many digits, that would make white-collared people leave their job to fetch her place.
I pulled over my Bugatti Chiron on the side of the road. Looking out the window, I order Shaina "I want her out. Make sure she reveals what she already knows and keep an eye on her." And cut the call.
None of our whorehouses, debauchery, or strip clubs forces girls. They came to us for better money and some of them cunning bitches convince their customers to marry them.
I drum my fingers to wait for my prey to come out. Five minutes later, she came with a big bag of food. I follow her close behind, not once she looked over her shoulder. Then she turned to a dark alley. My lips twitched in a smirk.
Zara Sinclair, innocent Canadian heading toward the dark alley at her own will, at 9 PM. Eccellente!
*****
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