Page 110 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
My legs feel solid, my spine lengthened, my conviction through the fucking roof.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
Tony levels me with a determined stare and then grits his teeth. “You’d fucking better.”
I leave him staring disbelievingly at his daughter and go off in search of my car. Fortunately, someone had the foresight tomove it out of the path of emergency vehicles. A young medic is standing beside it, looking in awe at me as I approach.
“Mr. Di Santo,” he says, practically bowing his head before stepping to one side.
“Thanks, buddy.” I toss him a roll of bills before sliding in and starting the engine.
Cristiano
I close the car door softly and look around. I’ve never had cause to set foot in Tony Castellano’s port, but I should have come here sooner. It’s clear this is a business that’s cared about. The roads are clean and tidy, and the port workers seem mostly relaxed and happy. Only those whose gazes flicker my way appear uncomfortable.
Three large containers are lined up side by side. There’s a sign on one of the doors signaling which one is the visitor’s office. I’m guessing the other two are Tony’s management office and a workers’ breakroom.
I open the door of the visitor’s office, and two women look up. They’re older, around Allegra’s age, and looked like they were immersed in work until I showed my face. Now they look mostly alarmed.
One of them rises to her feet. “Mr. Di Santo ... How can I help you?”
“Is my brother still here?”
“I believe so, sir. He was in the portside warehouse at the south end of the yard. Or at least that’s where he said he was going.”
“I haven’t seen him leave,” the other woman says, her expression hopeful.
“Thanks.” I go to let myself out but stop mid-stride. My brow furrows in thought before I glance across at the women. “Do me a favor. Whatever you hear in the next fifteen minutes ... don’t call security, okay?”
Both of them widen their eyes at me.
“Or the cops, or Tony, or anyone for that matter. Understand?”
They nod timidly.
I follow the port road to the bottom of the yard. The walk takes ten minutes. I really should have given myself a longer window. When I reach the warehouse, I walk around the outer edge slowly and quietly, until I hear voices coming from inside. I close my eyes and let the sounds help me decipher a view of where everything is. I tune in to the three voices and acclimate to the accents, then I focus on the words.
This is what I do.
I listen and watch for cheats.
Savero seems to be doing most of the talking. “You don’t need to concern yourself with what’s going to happen to them when they arrive on these shores. I’ll handle that, Miguel.”
Miguel?
The only Miguel I know of works for one of the Mexican cartels. Our father had an ongoing dispute with him over the importation of illegal firearms. Is that what Savero is doing—setting up another firearms transportation deal?
“All you need to worry about is getting them onto the boat. How secure are the containers? Do they have air holes? I mean,I’m guessing they’ll need to breathe.” He emits a dark chuckle, and I press my ear to the side of the warehouse.
“No need for air holes. They’ll be sedated, and there’s enough oxygen in those things to last the journey across the Atlantic.”
What the fuck are they talking about? Animals?
“Trust us, Savero. We’ve done this a thousand times before. Only a couple die each journey, but that’s the risk. They know the risks.”
“Promise me, no children.”
Savero’s words slice through my chest.
