Page 12 of Emerald Vices

“As we speak, there’s a man being held in the basement of this club,” I inform them. “Shura hasn’t managed to get much information out of him. But I’m going to see if I’ll have better luck.”

Bujar keeps his eyes fastened on me. “You think he could be useful?”

“He’s our only lead,” I say, rising to my feet. “I intend to make him useful. Whether he likes it or not.”

Cevdet’s lips curl into a sinister smile. “Let us know how it goes.”

“You three just sit back. Enjoy my booze and my cigars. I’ll return soon enough.”

They raise their glasses as I walk out of the VIP room through a hidden panel door recessed into the wall. The moment I step into the narrow corridor, motion sensor lights flicker to life, lighting the spiral path down towards the basement of Maria.

The temperature drops as I descend. My shoes echo off the rough-hewn concrete floors.

Shura is leaning against a wall to the side, a toothpick dangling between his teeth. The man across from him is suspended from the ceiling by his arms. Blood coats his bare chest and sweat sticks his gray briefs to his legs. If the bruising on his torso is anything to go by, his insides are as ugly and beaten as the rest of him.

“Who do we have here?”

“This is Diego,” Shura explains.

The man, balancing precariously on his tiptoes, flops as hard as he can. It’s pitiful. “P-please. Let me go.” Blood trickles from a split in his lower lip. Now that his head is raised, I can see his black eyes and the blood crusted along his chin.

“You haven’t told us anything interesting, Diego,” I tut. “What makes you think you deserve to be let go?”

“Please!” he begs. “I’m innocent.”

“You snuck into my club, assaulted one of my waitresses, and tried to push an inferior product on my premises.” I unleash a calm, eerie smile on him. “That doesn’t sound like ‘innocence’ to me.”

“Please,” he tries again. “I’ll do anything.”

I cock my neck to the side. “‘Anything’?”

“Yes, just… let me go.”

“I might let you go, Diego—if you give me something useful. If your intel proves accurate, then you will earn back your freedom.”

“I don’t know anything!” Diego wails. “They sent us here to push the product. Those were the orders, so that’s what I did.”

Shura looks incredulous but he doesn’t question me. Instead, he walks to my side and whispers, “Don’t you think I tried this already? He’s a puppet. No better than Misha was to Nikolai. He doesn’t know shit.”

Determined, I walk over to Diego. Fresh sweat carves a path through the dried blood smeared over his mouth. “Give me something, Diego. Your life depends on it.”

His face crumples. “I was just… following orders. P-please…”

“Whose orders?”

“The man I was with—Edgar Vargas—he was the one telling me what to do.”

“Who is he?”

His eyes flicker to Shura. Then back to me. “He’s a cousin of one of the Halcones. That’s all I know. I was told to follow his orders.”

Judging by the way he’s trembling, Diego is ready to sing like a canary if it means he gets to live. Problem is, he doesn’t know the song I need to hear. I guess I’ll have to make do with a few measly notes.

“If tonight had been successful, where would you have gone?” I press. “There must have been a meeting point.”

He squints, blinking furiously as a bead of sweat drips right into his eye. “We were staying at a motel in the middle of the city. Last Resort Inn.”

Slapping my hand against his bloody face, I nod in approval. “You just earned yourself a few extra hours, Diego. Spend them wisely.”

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