Page 75 of The Broker
Fuck. We’re running out of time. We have to get Angelica out before Revenant realizes Andreas talked. If he finds out we’re at the farmhouse, he could blow the entire place up. The longer we delay, the more likely that scenario becomes.
The nagging feeling that I’m missing something intensifies.
And then I remember my conversation with Massimo Rinaldi in Brescia, and it all clicks into place.
As if on cue, Valentina’s phone rings.
38
VALENTINA
It’s Revenant again. Or Neil Smith, or whatever his real name is. “Hello, Valentina,” he says mockingly. “Have you been waiting for my call with bated breath?”
“What do you want?”
“My money. Do you have it?”
“Yes.” I work hard at keeping the fear out of my voice. “Is Angelica okay?”
“Of course. And she’ll remain that way as long as you do exactly as I say. Send me the private keys to my bitcoins. You have thirty minutes.”
Dante takes the phone from me. There’s a hard light in his eyes. I look at him, and my heart leaps.
He has a plan.
“No,” the Broker says, putting the call on speakerphone. “It’s not going to work that way. We’re doing nothing until we get proof of life.”
“Colonna.” Revenant’s voice ices over. “I was wondering when you’d show up. Do I have to remind you you’re in no position to negotiate?”
“Neither are you.” There’s quiet assurance in Dante’s voice. “It took a while to figure it out, but I’ve got it now. You’re Federico’s bastard son. You killed your father because he ordered your mother’s death, and you tried to ruin Verratti’s organization as part of your revenge.”
I stare at him in shock.
“But it’s over now,” Dante continues. “Salvatore’s in jail, but his allies aren’t. You killed his father, so now it’s personal. He’s going to make it his mission to hunt you down. And unlike you, Salvatore grew up drenched in blood. The odds aren’t in your favor.”
Dante makes a fist, his knuckles white. But when he speaks, his voice is steady. Unaffected. “You need the hundred million euros you stole from Verratti to disappear. Without it, you’re fucked. You’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder for an assassin.” His voice cracks like a whip. “I need proof of life. Get it for me. You have ten minutes.”
He hangs up. I stare at him with desperate hope. “You think he’s going to come here?”
“Yes. He’s used to being in control, having all the answers. I’ve flustered him. I wasn’t making up the threat; he’s in real danger. He’s going to rush over here to get the proof of life we need.” His jaw tightens. “And we’ll be ready.”
Dante turns to Leo and Franzoni. “The two of you need to get out of here.” Leo starts to protest, and he raises a hand. “No, Leo. We can’t risk Revenant spotting our car. If he gets the slightest whiff that we’re waiting for him, he’ll get spooked. Take the car, get to a hospital. Go to Milan, just in case—Ciro Del Barba owes me a favor. That’s an order. Oh, and can you do something about Andreas’s body? His sister shouldn’t find it.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “What about me?”
I can see Dante wants to send me away, too. He wants to keep me safe—it’s etched into every line of his taut body.
But he doesn’t.
“No, sparrow,” he says. “I need you.”
39
DANTE
After the tension of the last couple of hours, the next step is pretty anticlimactic. Revenant comes roaring down the farmhouse driveway, and Valentina and I hide in the kitchen and watch him march to the cellar door.
The instant he punches in the code and lifts the door open, Valentina activates her EMP generator. The device shorts out the electronics in the room, killing any potential booby traps. Revenant’s still staring in confusion at his phone when I step out, my weapon pointed at his head. “Drop the phone,” I order icily. “And put your hands where I can see them. I really want to shoot you—don’t give me an excuse.”