He pulled his laptop in front of him and after a few seconds of keystrokes he looked up. “Nothing out of the ordinary on the résumé and it’s as I remember it. Nothing in the criminal system and no known affiliations with the crowds we target.” Over the laptop screen, Lucian looked up and shrugged. “I’ll do some more digging, see what comes up. One thing is for certain, not one soul can be this squeaky clean. She doesn’t even have an unpaid library stub. To me, something is off about our girl.”
“Find a way to fire her. Get her out of here. There’s no way she can stay here. It’s fucking with all of our heads.”
Lucian nodded. “You might as well put a bulls-eye on her back and send her out as target practice.”
Sevastyan tilted his empty tumbler toward the stack of files. “You texted. Said you had something for us? Give us a preliminary while we wait for Roman.”
“Right, down to the third item of business then.” Lucian rolled to the bank of computers to his right and with a few swipes across the keyboard, switched the monitors to their private feed that linked to their secure database.
“We have a lead and it smells putrid down to the last period on the last fucking slip of paper in the file. Something about this one, I don’t know.” Lucian’s face pulled into a grim frown. “Something doesn’t sit right. I can feel it here.” He patted his chest.
Sevastyan agreed. “When does it ever feel right, man?”
In the last five months he’d learned just how deep his father’s connection went and how far he would go to turn a profit. Human trafficking. Sex slaves. Gun running and arms dealing. They were the most profitable. Casinos and restaurants were just a way to keep the money clean.
From there the list went on.
What burned most. His father dragged his brother into the middle of it.
Roman, their interrogator, stalked in from the opposite side of the room through a narrow panel that swung out from behind the monitors, Thick black hair in a cross between a ponytail and a bun hung from the back of his head and swayed with each step. He didn’t know how the guy suffered through having all that hair.
At six-five and with light eyes, he also had strong-boned features that resembled a Norse god of modern times. He’d never met a man that Roman couldn’t break. The few times the man walked the main floor of the club, he played the part of a playboy with an irresistible charm. While he was good at getting CIs to spill intel, he had a soft side for the ladies.
Lucian tossed a thumb drive across the table to Roman, who slipped it into a computer console. With a couple of clicks, he pulled up several images. Photo after photo of various colored shipping containers at different angles filled the main screen.
Sevastyan stood, taking Roman’s place at the head of the table. “Five months ago several containers went missing from The Crowne Global Shipping. I’ve tracked down a few people who owe me. From what they’ve shared, Crowne Global is dirty and deserves a deeper look.”
He opened another file loaded with several crime scene photos, adding a macabre tone to the night. “A few days after your brother’s death, the body of Alfredo Crowne turned up nailed to one of his own containers. Crucified is more like it. It didn’t hit our radar because we couldn’t find ties back to your brother or father.”
“Until your friend spoke up.”
Lucian nodded, opening another shot, this one showing the depth of depravity inflicted on the victim.
Roman continued. “In case you’ve had your head in the sand for any length of time, this gentleman was the billionaire and owner of Crowne Global.”
Matteo whistled low. “Poor fucker. I mean, I know you don’t get to be in his position without making a few enemies but, that’s a special kind of hate to do that level of harm to a body.”
“Looks personal.” Everyone nodded in agreement to Sevastyan’s gruff observation.
Sevastyan watched Lucian who shook his head in disagreement. “Nah. The motive behind this crime has money and power written all over it. Hate had nothing to do with it. It was all business. I’ve seen it before. The cartel families in Mexico and farther south operate the same. I’ve gone up against them a time or two.”
Ghosts flitted across Lucian’s expression, but Sevastyan didn’t press. They all had their own shit to deal with. Their own demons to kill.
“My most recent encounter had me pinned down in a town so small you could spit from one side to the other. It wasn’t even on the map, but it was pivotal all the same. My point, you’d be surprised what people kill over.”
Lucian scrubbed a hand over his head, and for a second Sevastyan could see the wear of far more years that the man should carry on him for his age.
Lucian pointed at the screen that displayed the crime scene. “Only money, power, or vengeance earns a man a death like that.”
He was right.
“What else?”
Lucian pushed up from his chair and took over, a small limp evident in his left leg.
“There were five containers that went missing. You should know local badges are working their angles. We can look but not push too hard unless we want them looking into shit they have no business seeing.”
Sevastyan knew what his friend meant.