Page 77 of Illyria

“What about the kid’s computer?” I inquired.

All of us in the room knew that Sypher never went anywhere without his computer. The kid lived and breathed that damn thing. A computer genius, Sypher lived for coding and the dark web. The kid helped all of us on more than one occasion with problems we’ve delt with in the past. A veritable trojan horse, there was nothing Sypher couldn’t find or hack into.

“Confiscated that thing the second he stepped off the plane. Pippen and Shame are trying to decode it, but they are having no luck. The kid created his own fucking algorithm. He encrypted everything. Even the damn password that, according to Pippen, is twenty-eight characters long and changes every hour. The fucking brat might as well put that shit in Klingon. It’s going to be awhile before they crack it.”

Giovanni chuckled. “He might have. From what I know about Sypher, he is a huge Sci-Fi geek.”

“I have a suggestion,” Malice piped up, as all heads turned to him. Standing against the back wall of the room eating an apple, the man said, “There is a way to get the information you want a lot faster than cracking an impenetrable computer and scaring the crap out of a kid. Why not tag your wife? Like Montana did with Tessa. Give her the illusion of freedom she desires and let her lead us to what she is hiding.”

Montana roared with laughter. “You want to tag Illyria Valentinetti? Are you nuts?!”

Malice shrugged. “Kills two birds with one stone.”

“She would rip the tracker out with her bare hands,” Lorenzo chuckled. “It won’t work.”

“There is more than one kind of tracker,” Malice mysteriously smirked before he took another bite out of his apple. “Ask Pippen. He’s got the perfect tracker for every situation.”

“It won’t work,” Sal reiterated. “I know my sister. There is no way she will allow any of us to inject her with a tracker.”

“Never said it had to be injected,” Malice grinned. “Think more along the lines of slipping it in.”

I stood over the table and stared at the tracker, no bigger than a pinhead, as Pippen explained, “It’s the latest in covert tracking devices. All the Alphabet Groups use them. Only theirs don’t have the long-range capabilities like mine does.”

“How long-range are we talking?” Giovanni asked, bending over the table to inspect the contraption.

“Anywhere.” Pippen grinned proudly, puffing up his chest.

“What do you mean, anywhere?” Montana growled, standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Not impressed.

“I mean worldwide, Prez. Once inserted, the tracker attaches itself to the tissue. It’s noninvasive and gives off no signals. It’s virtually undetectable. Not even an x-ray machine can detect my tracker. It’s made with a specialized polymer that mimics skin.”

“But how do you get it into the body without a person knowing?” Salvatore asked as Pippen blushed.

“Well, that’s the tricky part. You’re gonna need one of these.” He said, laying down a condom next to the tracker. “I designed these trackers to be inserted vaginally or anally.”

Montana roared with laughter as he slapped me on my back while I stared at the kid in shock. He had to be fucking kidding. I damn near fucked myself unconscious last night and she didn’t even flinch.

“You mean?” Giovanni muttered, looking from the table to me as he narrowed his eyes.

“Yep,” Pippen gulped, as he slowly nodded his head. “He would have to have sex with her.”

“And I’m out of here,” Sal groaned, as he quickly left the room. Lorenzo rushing out with him.

Giovanni gathered his coat before heading for the door. “Well, Maxim. I don’t envy you one bit. But to protect my sister, you have my family’s blessing to do whatever you need to ensure her safety. Montana, keep me informed.”

Shaking my head. “There has to be another way. I refuse to tag her and just let her walk off as if she’s won. That serves no purpose but to keep her in danger. There has to be something we can do to get her to talk because let me tell you. I can fuck her into the next millennium, and she won’t talk.”

“That’s the point Malice is making. The only way we can figure out what your wife is up to is to set her free. Everyone knows her because she is a public figure. Hell man, there isn’t a paper in this city that doesn’t know about Illyria Valentinetti. Also, on account of her multifaceted humanitarian initiatives, the paparazzi will commemorate her wherever she goes.

“Would you agree to this if it was your woman on the line?”

“Fuck, no,” Montana growled. “But Tessa isn’t Illyria Valentinetti. Your woman is the face of the Valentinetti Family. She can’t leave her house without the paparazzi waiting to take her picture. Add in all the men we have on her. Illyria won’t be able to sneeze in this city without one of us knowing.”

Looking back at the tracker, I shook my head.

“If I do this, she will never trust me.”

“She doesn’t have to trust you to sleep with you, Max. This is about keeping your wife safe while we figure out what she’s hiding. You can repair your relationship later, but right now, this is all we’ve got. Which means you’ve got forty-eight hours to wine, dine and bed your wife. It’s not that hard. You’ve been with the woman for five years. Albeit a tumultuous five years, but you should know how to get into her pants by now. Lie if you have to. Just get that thing planted inside your wife. You know Petrovitch is in the city. He is going to do everything in his power to acquire her. If he succeeds, we need to be able to track her if that happens. It’s the only way, my friend.”

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