Sophia blinked again, not understanding what Gilberto meant. Encouraging him to continue, she whispered, “And?”
Gilberto dropped onto his haunches and looked into Sophia’s eyes. With an ominous voice he said, “Doutora Sophia, it’s them. It’s your chance to avenge Doutor Gabriel’s death. You know the police is not going up there.”
Gabriel. Sophia’s lips curled down and she blinked quickly to whisk away the tears. She knew nothing could bring him back. She swallowed hard and struggled with her decision “I won’t have their deaths on my hands. That decision belongs to God alone.”
“But—”
She leaned over and she whispered to her driver, “But I’ll pay a hundred-thousand dollars for their left ring fingers.”
Gilberto stood and nodded. “Consider it done, Doutora Sophia. My brother will speak with the head of the drug cartel and give the order. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Gilberto, please, one more thing.”
“Anything.”
Sophia sat erect, a fevered light appearing in her eyes. “I want them to know who ordered it. I want them to know what they made Gabriel suffer.” A dark smile spread on her face. “I want them to fear me for the rest of their lives.”
She reclined back on the chair, as if she had said the most normal thing in the world.
Chapter 19
Atwood House
Thursday, March 25, 2010
12:54 a.m.
Sophia’s hand stopped in midair, as she became suddenly aware that Alistair was leaning on her bathroom doorjamb watching her. She looked at his face in the mirror. Could you handle my confession?
“Can’t sleep?” he asked as he stepped into the bathroom. What put this anguished look on your face, Sophia? She nodded tight-lipped, and he stretched out his hands, pulling her in his arms. He put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded them. They felt like rocks under his fingers. “Come to bed. I’ll give you a relaxing massage.”
Walking back to the bedroom, Alistair frowned at Sophia’s lowered face hidden behind the curtain of her hair.
As he let go of her hand, the worry he’d been feeling since Sunday evening returned to eat at him again. To Alistair, Sophia felt like a scared rabbit that would run away from him as soon as he got close.
“Sophia. Talk to me.”
I can’t… With a strangled sob, she flung herself onto his chest, burrowing her face in the hollow of his neck. An uncontrollable trembling shook her as tears fell down her cheeks and soaked his skin.
Alistair frowned in concern. He lay back and held her while she cried, soothing her with murmured words in Gaelic.
But the recently returned memories had opened the gates of a dam.
“What happened, Sophia?” He was becoming seriously worried. She was ice cold and trembling. “Why are you crying?”
She just shook her head and cried harder. I love you. But I’m not the woman you think I am.
He gently rubbed her back and waited for the storm to pass. The suddenness of the outburst was no less startling than the fact that it had never happened before. As the sobs began to subside, she relaxed against him.
“It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
She burrowed her face on his neck like a child and used the sheet to wipe away the tears from his chest and her face.
Alistair had touched her body and soul liked no one had done before and to whom, quite unexpectedly, she had given her heart.
At last, a final shuddering sigh escaped her, and her breathing quieted. With thoughts of her dark past and her uncertain future crowding her, Sophia drifted off to sleep in Alistair’s arms.
Lying awake in the darkness of her room, he tried to piece together her behavior. He knew that she was holding something back from him. But Alistair wasn’t sure if he was prepared to know what it was, or if he wanted to discover that his dark-haired angel was not so pure.
Disturbed by his many doubts, it was a long time before he drifted off to sleep.
The City of London Bank Headquarters
11:23 a.m.
A knock on his opened door called Alistair’s attention away from the floor plans he was studying. As Tavish walked into the room, he motioned for him to approach his computer. “Come and see. Maddox sent me his ideas for the opening.”
“I went there yesterday, Alistair Connor. The refurbishment is almost finished. I have the guest list ready and I just received the invitation samples.” He opened his MacBook Air and showed his brother some images of the gallery. “I wouldn’t put that on the show,” he said, pointing to one of photographs. “Nor this.” He pointed to another and narrowed his eyes at the screen. “In fact, I told Maddox yesterday that we shouldn’t display multiples. Only originals.”
“Hmm. You’ve been studying.” I have chosen the right place for you, Tavish Uilleam. Art will help you heal.
“Well, you know art has always been a hobby.” He circled the desk and sat in the armchair. “So, you’ve moved in with Sophia.”
“Nae, I haven’t.” Alistair looked up from the laptop, stunned. Not yet. “Why do you say that?”
Tavish smiled. “Do you know that since you started screwing—”
“More respect, Tavish Uilleam.” Alistair frowned.
“Very well. Since immaculate Sophia—” He stopped at Alistair’s scowl, chuckling. “Alistair Connor, relax. I’m just joking.”
“I am no’. Get to the point.”
“Come on, Brother. Since you two have…er…” He waved his hand in the air. “Well, since you two started…you’ve slept in your apartment only twice.”
Alistair’s frown deepened. “That can’t be right.”
“You lost track?” He smiled. “Garrick would never say a word, but I know he’s been taking your clothes over to her house every morning. The least you could do is take them yourself the night before.”
Alistair leaned back on his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Tavish’s smile grew. “So, when are you going to propose?”
“Pardon?” he blinked.
“When are you going to propose?” Tavish repeated. “When is the wedding?”
“Father told you?” he gapped. “I asked him not to.”
Tavish’s mouth dropped open before he banged his hand on the arm of his chair. “I knew it! Even after everything, Alistair Connor, you still are the most helpless romantic alive.”
“Tavish Uilleam. I haven’t talked to her yet. It’s only been a couple of weeks that Sophia and I have…that we’ve been…”
“Fucking,” Tavish provided, too amused to care about the consequences.
Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, “Aye. That.”
“So? Is she pregnant already?”
Alistair’s face darkened.
“You’re speaking out of turn, Tavish Uilleam.” He looked down at the invitation samples on the screen, trying to control his anger. “Now, which one of these have you decided on?”
Leibowitz Oil Building
12:57 p.m.
I don’t believe it!” Sophia huffed, aggravated.
She stood up, picked up her bag and put her iPhone in it. As she left her office, she said, “Sarah, please inform IT that my computer’s crashed for the third time since yesterday! Could you ask Liang to have it fixed during my lunch hour?”
“Mrs. L, it’s not just your computer. The whole company network has crashed,” Sarah informed her.
“This is absurd.” Sophia paused in front of Sarah’s desk. “This can’t happen. What about the back-up system?”
“It crashed too.” Sarah said, apologetic.
Sophia shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Gabriel would be so mad…I want Liang here. Now.”
“He’s with Mr. Davidoff, Mrs. L.”
Sophia stopped and slowly turned back to Sarah. “What?”
Liang Kang-Dae was a computer genius. After studying in the United States, having won a full university schol
arship, he returned to England and applied for one of the Leibowitz Awards for New Projects. He had won first place brilliantly and the one-hundred-thousand pound award. He was twenty-six at the time. Gabriel offered him a position at Leibowitz by the end of the award party. After a while, Gabriel relocated the whole IT department from London to the Ireland branch and gave the young man free rein to manage all the company’s IT issues. Gabriel had always said that it was one of the wisest things he had done.
All of that came to Sophia’s mind while she opened Edward’s office door.
“Good morning, Edward, Liang.” She didn’t wait for their replies. “Can anyone tell me why our über-advanced network has crashed three times since yesterday?”
“Hackers, Mrs. L,” Liang’s instantly replied.
Sophia froze as a loud buzz rang in her ears. Her lips opened but only a soft wheeze left her mouth as she dropped unconscious on the floor.
Leibowitz’s Penthouse, Sophia and Gabriel’s Home Office
Thursday, June 5, 2008
10:28 a.m.
Mr. Santo, there’s no doubt. That is how they knew Mr. Leibowitz’s and your sister’s schedules. They must have been following them for a long time. They had all the information they needed.” The Brazilian Federal Police expert closed Sophia’s notebook and looked at the two men in front of him, and then at Sophia, shaking his head and muttering, “Damn hackers. There’s no privacy anymore.”
My computer. It was my computer that led the kidnappers to us.
“I have to take your notebook to the lab. There, I will be able to use it to trace the hackers.” He put the notebook in a plastic bag, took off his gloves, and stored everything in his briefcase. He turned to a pale and wide-eyed Sophia, sitting rigidly in an armchair. He walked to her and said in a soothing voice, “Have you backed up all the photos and documents from this machine?”
Sophia only nodded. She knew that if she opened her mouth to answer she would start crying. Again.
“—Mrs. Leibowitz. Please?”
The expert had continued talking but she hadn’t heard. Sophia looked to Felipe and Edward for help.
“Yes, we will keep in touch, won’t we, Sis?” Felipe said, and Sophia nodded for the umpteenth time that day. “Thank you very much.”
Felipe and Edward followed the expert out of the room to the stairs where Edson, her butler, was waiting to see him out.
Meanwhile, Gilberto, her driver, knocked on the opened door. “Doutora Sophia?”
“Do you have news for me?” Her throat was so raw from screaming at night that it was difficult to speak.
From behind his back, Gilberto revealed a small steel box, like an old fashioned medical box sealed with tape, and in his other hand he held an envelope.
Without a word, Sophia rose and motioned for Gilberto to follow her to the terrace.
She squinted in the sunlight, lowered her sunglasses, and sought refuge under the parasol, sitting on one of the reclining chairs.
Her sad smile turned into a dark grin as she looked at the steel box. “The fingers?”
“Doutora Sophia, you don’t want to see those.” He shook the box and Sophia heard soft thumps. “My brother guaranteed me it was done as you requested. The warlord sent you a gift.”
Gilberto opened the envelope, pulled out a photo, and placed it next to Sophia.
Twelve male faces stared back at Sophia. White, mixed, and negro men. Tall, average, and short. Thin, muscular, and fat. Bald, blond, and dark-haired.
Crime isn’t picky. She smiled sadly at her weird thought.
Twelve completely different men. For her, they had only one thing in common: they had murdered her husband. They had murdered her love, her daughter’s father, her dream, her life.
“You can see that as you ordered,” Gilberto pointed at the photo with the steel box, “each one has lost their ring fingers.”
Sophia heard a shocked gasp and a sharp intake of breath behind her. She turned and faced her brother with an impassive face. “Don’t judge.”
Then she looked at Edward, who had come for Gabriel’s funeral.
Sophia tilted her head to the side, studying him as he stood on the enormous terrace. Under the Carioca sun and the absurd humidity, elegantly dressed in a tailored gray suit and dark-gray tie, Edward was rooted to the ground, open-mouthed. His English flair had abandoned him.
Felipe scowled, in a hard and cold voice, said, “Sophia, you’re a lawyer. They—”
“They tortured and killed my husband!!” she screamed hoarsely, rising from the chair and stalking up to him. “They killed Gabriel!”
She pushed Felipe aside and stormed off.
Felipe ogled the driver. “How did she find them?”
“Doutor Felipe, they were hiding near where my brother lives.” Gilberto raised his chin. “I told her. It was her right to order their deaths. We know the police wasn’t going up there to arrest them.”
Edward, who was recovering from the shock, asked even more horrified, “Have they been killed?”
“They were already dead men for having invaded the enemy territory. Outsiders don’t understand the underworld of the slums,” Gilberto answered. He faced Felipe and shook his head slowly. “And we avenge our own. Doutor Gabriel was a great helper of our community.” He shrugged. “She told me she only wanted the fingers, but some things are beyond anyone’s control. All of them, except he,” he pointed to one of the men in the photo, “died yesterday night. In the microwave.”
Edward looked at Felipe, “Microwave?”
“You don’t want to know,” Felipe grimaced, disgusted. “Please, Gilberto, get rid of these.” He motioned to the box in Gilberto’s hand and the photo.
“No.”
The command, voiced in a whisper, made the men turn around.
“I want the photo.” Sophia was leaning on the sliding glass door, looking like she would faint at any minute, holding a thick envelope in her hand.
“Eleven men are dead because of you, Sophia,” Felipe thundered, glaring at her. He stepped in her direction and stopped, fisting his hands. “Who do you think you are? God?”
They were not supposed to be killed. “Do you know what?” she screamed at her brother in her raspy voice as a sudden anger burst inside her. “They tortured Gabriel for ninety-six days and then killed him. They deserved it. They deserved to die.”
Felipe stepped closed to her, and lowering his head, he hissed, “Maybe they did. But you, Sophia, you should know better. You lowered yourself to their level. Now you’re a criminal too, exactly like them.”
Sophia paled when the consequences of her decision struck her. The envelope she was holding fell to the marble floor and her legs gave way.
Edward grabbed her before she fell and laid her down on the reclining chair.
“A criminal!” Felipe roared.
“It got out of control, Felipe.” Edward pointed to the envelope on the floor. “What is that?”
“What I promised,” she whispered. “For the fingers.”
“This is absurd, Sophia. Absurd!” Felipe raked both hands in his hair. “You can’t do this. You committed a crime. A serious crime.”
She shrunk under her brother’s condemnation. “I didn’t know they were going to be killed, Felipe.” She bit her lip and said, “In the microwave.”
“What the hell is this microwave?” Edward asked Gilberto.
“Well, they’re placed stand up inside a row of tires and…” Gilberto shrugged, almost apologetic, “set on fire.”
“Fucking hell!” Edward had never heard of such a barbaric thing.
“I’m sorry,” Sophia breathed.
Felipe couldn’t believe that his dear, level-headed, gentle sister had ordered such a savage thing. He shook his head at her. “Too late now, Sophia.”
Edward decided to take control of the situation. “Sophia, the envelope and the money have your fingerprints. How much do you need?”
“A hundred-thousand dollars.” She loo
ked past him, searching her driver’s eyes, as she said feebly, “Gilberto, I want you to find their families. And tell the women to look for Júlia Soares, my secretary, at the Foundation. They will be taken care of.”
“I will,” Gilberto answered.
“No!” Edward exclaimed. “Sophia, think! You’re going to incriminate yourself.”
“Doutor Edward, there isn’t anything that can incriminate Doutora Sophia. They invaded our place. It was just another fight between rival drug cartels from two different slums. If it’s ever discovered.”
“Pardon?” Edward was stunned.
“They will simply be missing men. Numbers. In a police report,” Felipe explained.
Gilberto shrugged again, nonchalantly. “The microwave, the wind, the rain…there isn’t much left to tell a story.” His white teeth glowed in the sun when he smiled; a stark contrast against his dark skin. A blatant mocking disregard to the horror and seriousness of the situation. “Besides, who will care enough to go searching for criminals up in that hell?”
Leibowitz Oil Building
Thursday, March 25, 2010
1:00 p.m.
Mr. Davidoff.” Sarah approached the sofa where Edward had laid Sophia and handed him her cell phone. “It’s been ringing insistently. It’s someone she labeled as ‘Handsome’.”
“It’s Mr. MacCraig. Tell him that Sophia can’t answer right now and that you’ll let her know he has called.” Edward drummed his fingers on his knees impatiently and turned to Martha, the company’s nurse. “Why is she still unconscious?”
“It’s because of her blood pressure. It’s still very low, Mr. Davidoff,” the nurse explained.
“The ambulance will be here shortly. Her doctors are already waiting for her at the Harley Street Clinic,” Sarah said after she answered Sophia’s iPhone.