Page 61 of Knocked Up By the Bikers

“You see, we did our homework before we arranged this little meeting. I still have the passcodes to the store’s locks, remember?” I add. Judging by the look on Thierry’s paling face, he’s starting to put two-and-two together. “That’s right. I had the passcode to your private office as well. It was a treasure trove of evidence. The FBI will have a field day with their white-collar crime division.”

It’s sinking in. The terror. The fear of a most unpleasant truth coming out. The idea of his empire made of cards crumbling. His whole life being blown away, reduced to shreds despite having spent so many years doing the Black Hand’s bidding, and they won’t be able to protect him.

“All the evidence we’ve gathered will not be going to the field office, mind you,” I continue. “Masterson would nip it in the bud. But the guys at Quantico will absolutely enjoy putting a case together, Thierry.”

“That being said, you have three choices. One, we let the Black Hand receive some great shots of the five of us having tea at the Golden Plum,” Sky says. “I made sure to book the breakfast room under your name. They had a copy of your card on file; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Two, we let the FBI lay out one hell of a smuggling and trafficking case against you,” Raylan continues. “This whole blood diamond thing is an ugly, ugly issue. The press will eat it up. Your business will be reduced to ashes. Your empire will be gone. Your friends in high society? They’ll no longer recognize you. You will be a stranger, Thierry, some dude they don’t want to be associated with anymore. And three …”

“I blow your balls off unless you arrange a meeting with Henry David,” Kendric promptly says and aims the gun at Thierry’s crotch.

“Hold on, hold on!” the Frenchman gasps. “Why? Why can’t you call him Ariana? He’s your father! He’ll come running! He wants to see you alive and well, ma—Ariana,” he corrects himself, well aware that my boot might do more damage than Kendric’s Glock.

“If I set up a meeting, the Black Hand will surely join us,” I reply. “Please, do not take me for an idiot, Thierry. I’ve learned a lot since I was taken away. If you arrange a meeting with the mayor, he will come without an escort.”

Thierry gives me a sour look. “You wish to hurt your father.”

“No, I just want to destroy the Black Hand so they can stop making people’s lives miserable,” I say. “They’ve done enough harm, and you and your cronies have made enough money already. It ends here, now. What will it be, Thierry?”

“Henry will smell a trap.”

“Why?” I ask. “He doesn’t know we’re meeting. And you’d be a supreme idiot to tell him, considering the heap of trouble you’ll find yourself in if you don’t abide by our terms. No matter how you look at it, you’re screwed. The only thing you can do, Thierry, is decide how precisely screwed you want to be. If you arrange the meeting, the Black Hand will never hear about our tea party, and the Feds won’t be alerted about your blood diamond suppliers.”

He needs a moment to think about it. I can’t blame him. He’s gotten away with truly nefarious things his whole life. His decisions fueled a bloody market while he filled his pockets with incomprehensible amounts of cash. This man is the poster child of extreme, unregulated capitalism. The poster child of corruption, of all the filth that is currently poisoning our world and making life unnecessarily difficult for future generations.

I’m no social justice warrior by any measure, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let Thierry profit from the misery of others for a second longer. His belly is full. I’d rather cut it wide open.

Thierry sighs deeply. “You want me to set up a meeting with Henry? Which of you will be there?”

“I will be there,” I say. “I just don’t want the cabal to be there. You’ll have to find a reason for him to come alone and tell no one.”

He nods slowly. “For what it’s worth, your father wanted me to dig some dirt up on Masterson after we spoke to him. He still thinks he can save you. I told him he was a fool, but he won’t give up on his ties to the Black Hand. He hopes he can discredit Masterson enough to get him off your back. That’s just a wet Band-Aid if you ask me. The cabal won’t stop until you’re dead, but if you’re out of New Hampshire, at least, it’ll be harder for them to find you. You still have time to think about it, to consider your options carefully, Ariana.”

“I’ve already laid out the options, Thierry. It’s time for you to choose,” I reply.

“I can tell Henry that I have something on Masterson. He won’t want any eyes or ears on us for such a conversation,” he relents.

Kendric presses the gun into his crotch. “Make the call.”

My heart jumps with equal parts fear and excitement. I know Kendric wouldn’t hurt him if he didn’t have to, but at the same time, I see this side of him, and I am aware of its extension, of its propensity for death and violence. All it takes is one blown fuse. Kendric might disappear into his darkness, and I may never see him again. War does things to people.

“Right now?” Thierry blurts out.

“Right fucking now,” Kendric insists.

With a trembling hand, Thierry pulls his phone out of his coat pocket. We all watch in the heaviest silence as he searches the call log for my father’s number. Then, Thierry puts the phone to his ear, waiting for him to pick it up.

I listen with a heavy heart as Thierry plays his part, working overtime to keep his voice calm and even while drawing my father out of his safe bubble and into unknown territory. By the end of the call, we had a meeting set with my father, the kind of reckoning I never imagined I would ever have to endure. But the truth is a harsh mistress, and it needs to be dealt with.

I want to look that man in the eyes when I ask him about the Black Hand. About my mother. About her accident. About Masterson and his intentions toward me. I need to understand how far my father is willing to go in order to preserve his power, his influence, and his wealth. Is he willing to ultimately sacrifice his own blood?

“It’s done,” Thierry says, putting the phone on the table. “We’re meeting on Friday.”

“Six o’clock, yeah, we heard,” Sky replies.

Thierry glowers at me while Raylan takes his phone and gives it a proper electronic scrub using one of the IT kids’ special devices, just to make sure it won’t trace back to this location. It’s a complicated device, even though it’s barely the size of a pager. Once he’s done, Raylan slips the phone into Thierry’s jacket pocket.

“I expect you’ll give me everything you have against me once that meeting with Henry is concluded,” Thierry says.

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