“You think he could get into the bank transfer records you need to identify where the money is coming from?”

Talyssa nods. “I know he can.”

I lift up my phone and change my GPS destination. “Here’s what I need—”

“You want to go find him, and beat him up until he agrees to do what we need.”

“No. Finding out who runs the Consortium might save Roxana, but it won’t save the girls we’ve been chasing. I have to go to Venice to try to find out where they are being sent.”

She’s confused. “So . . .”

“So,” I say, “I need you to go to Amsterdam to convince Maarten Meyer to work with us.”

“But . . . even if I could get him to do the hack, that’s totally illegal.”

“I hate to break it to you, Talyssa, but the ‘doing things by the book’ ship sailed a long time ago. You’re pretty much an international criminal already.”

She says nothing, so I finish my thought. “If there is some way to find out that intel, even if it’s illegal, we probably should be considering it.”

Slowly she nods. “But . . . how do I convince him to help us?”

“Tell him he’s under investigation. Tell him you’ll tip him off to a raid when it comes if he does what you want him to. Tell him you’ll destroy evidence to help his case. Tell him anything to get him on board with us.”

“But I . . . I can’t do any of those things.”

“You don’t have to do anything, you just have to say you’ll do something to help him.”

“What, then we just fuck him over?”

“Pretty much. Look, think about your sister.”

Now she looks at me with hard narrow eyes. “Think about my sister? That’s all I am doing! I can’t think about anything else at all other than what has happened to her, and what will happen to her if I can’t get her back! Don’t tell me to think about my sister!”

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I just need you to start breaking some dishes here. I need you to go to Amsterdam and convince Maarten Meyer to help us find the money launderers. If I could do it myself I’d put that guy’s nuts in a vise and start flaying him, but I have to stay here.”

“I am not going to put his nuts in a—”

“You won’t have to. You just need to use what you have to get his compliance, and that is information about the international warrant being prepared against him.”

I can see she’s still pissed at me, but slowly she begins to calm down. “I can do that.”

“I know you can. We’ll go to the airport, and then you’re going to Amsterdam.”

THIRTY-THREE

   La Primarosa made good speed for Venice, arriving just after eight a.m. Jaco Verdoorn was all but in command on the vessel now; the captain did little more than drive the boat while the big South African organized the quick and efficient disembarkation of the product. He knew he had to get all the merchandise along with all the evidence off in case the Gray Man had resources to have the yacht boarded. The Consortium controlled a portion of local law enforcement here, but it certainly didn’t control all law enforcement, so there was a definite threat as long as the yacht was in the area.

By noon Verdoorn had removed his people from this potential compromise, relocating all twenty-three pieces of merchandise shipped on La Primarosa to a large private residence in Venice proper, on the Rio della Sensa, a canal on the northern side of the city. The impromptu safe house building was run by the Mala del Brenta, one of the local mafia groups here in northern Italy, and now all items were sequestered in several rooms on the second and third floors while armed Italians guarded them.

As was always the case on market days, the women and girls were well fed and given plenty of time to bathe. Clothing was brought in by stylists, hair and makeup would begin at five p.m., and Dr. Riesling spent the entire day speaking with each one of them privately, checking their mental state for what was to come.

Jaco Verdoorn established a secondary security cordon around the building, positioning most of his White Lion men in the streets and along the canals, eyes open for any hint of Courtland Gentry.

A couple more men had overwatch on the route Cage would take to the safe house, and Verdoorn was in near constant communication with Sean Hall so they could perfectly coordinate the movement of the principal during his short walk.

Verdoorn himself planned on taking an overwatch position, both today for Cage’s arrival at the safe house and this evening as Cage and his security men went to the market. The South African had a Belgian FN F2000 rifle with a scope and a laser, and he wished for nothing more in this world than to see Gentry in his sights today or tonight.

He was experienced enough to recognize that there was an extremely low probability of he himself killing the target, but this was his op, these were his men, and they’d received his training, so if any one of his boys took out the American assassin, he’d consider it his kill.

* * *

• • •

After dropping Talyssa off at the airport I take the causeway to Venice and park the car at a lot on the western side of the 121 islands that make up the city proper. I climb out, stretching my legs and back. It’s just past noon; I have some time before my two p.m. appointment, so I use it to do some shopping and to rent a room for the night. I find a little place in Santa Croce on the Rio de Santa Maria Maggiore, and here I take a shower and then, with scissors and a razor purchased during my stop at a pharmacy, I go to work.

I’m wearing a suit I bought off the rack an hour and a half ago, and cherry wingtip shoes purchased just after that. My face is clean-shaven for the first time in months and my hair is slicked back with product, and although this is hardly my normal look, I’ve made a career out of blending in with my surroundings, and I am certainly dressed for the part I’m about to play.

Then I go back out onto the street to walk to my nearby meeting.

Venice is a tourist trap; the narrow streets and passages are packed so tightly with foreign travelers that you shuffle along like cattle, restaurants all sell the same food, and gift shops all sell the same few dozen items.

It’s the Disney World of Italy.

I’ve only been here once, doing a job for the Goon Squad a few years back. The Agency was tailing a Tunisian lawyer they thought had ties to Al Qaeda, and my unit of Ground Branch operators was brought in to roll him up, which we did in an alleyway near his flat on a moonless night.

It was a textbook op; we shuffled the guy to a waiting Cessna Citation, and then we watched it climb into the Italian sky.