Molka smirked. “Well, if I was you, I might want the fillet knives and the acid bath. At least you’d die fairly fast when compared to rotting for decades in a maximum-security prison cell.”
Cardoza laughed. “Your naivety is precious. I told you I have a charmed life. My attorneys will not allow me to spend one day incarcerated in an Israeli prison—let alone decades—due to this illegal seizure and detention alone. Certainly, an intelligent woman such as yourself realizes this?”
“I can’t speak to the legalities, but I have a feeling, one way or another, you’re going to be held accountable for the Harlevs.” Molka’s face hardened. “You have to be.”
“Please tell me, where are my friends?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Molka said.
Cardoza allowed a slight frown. “Please tell me, where is Alejandro Abreu?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
“Very well,” Cardoza said. “Can we get the unpleasantness over with soon? Where are you taking me?”
“To the embassy. Then someone else will slip you out of the country shortly after.”
“So there has been no extradition deal arranged with the Brazilian government?”
Molka remained silent.
“Your silence is all the answer I need.” Cardoza smiled again. “That means my good friend the president knows nothing of this. Yet.”
Molka remained silent.
Cardoza continued. “And how will you attempt to get me out of this country undetected and into yours?”
“That’s not part of my job,” Molka said. “No more questions.”
“Just one more. Please tell me, how did they find out?”
Molka’s phone sounded: Nathan making a video call.
She closed the van’s door, moved to, and opened the left-side garage door, exited the shop, and answered the call.
The camera view was a blank white wall.
Molka spoke to the wall. “You there? I’ve been calling and sending messages for over an hour. What happened to you?”
The camera view turned from the blank white wall to Abreu’s smiling face. “Not what you wanted to happen.”
CHAPTER 45
Stun.
Dread.
And panic wrestled for control of Molka’s mind as Abreu laughed in her face and said, “Look who it is! I never forget a crooked cop! And it all makes sense now!”
Molka forced a false composure on her three battling emotions. “Where’s Nathan?”
Abreu smiled, amused. “My boys found the sissy gringo who owns this phone and this skinny fucker hiding in my zone.” The camera view swung to a terrified Olavo sitting on a concrete floor and then swung back to Abreu’s face. “They bring them to me, and I say, I know this sissy gringo. He was with Cardoza one time when Cardoza took him to see the wall and then stopped by my home.”
“And then I say, but why would this sissy gringo be hiding in my zone on the day the fucking police raid my home? Did this sissy gringo help lead the fucking police to my home?”
“So I asked this sissy gringo these things. He denies everything. He says he’s an artist and was just in my zone to view the wall again. So I smack him around. And he still denies it. Then I beat him around. But even though he’s a small and feminine-looking sissy gringo, he’s tough. Very tough. He takes it like a man. And he still denies everything.”
“So I ask him if he’s an artist, what kind of artist. He told me he sketched and painted. I asked him which hand he sketched and painted with. He told me it was his left. I knew he was lying, so I made him a true left-handed sketcher and painter with this.” Abreu held up a blood-stained hammer and then moved the camera view to show a bloody, bruised, and bloated faced Nathan unmoving on a concrete floor with his right hand bloody and grotesquely swollen. After a moment, he moved the camera view back on his face.”
Molka heard herself say aloud: “You bastard!”
Abreu smiled. “No, I met my real father once. He was a bastard, though. And a son of a bitch, they tell me.”
“Is Nathan still alive?”
“If I killed him, would I have called you?”
“He needs to go to the hospital.”
Abreu smiled again and nodded. “And pretty soon too. The sissy gringo told me a lot before he went into pain sleep. He told me Cardoza did some bad shit in Israel years ago. And that you’re some super bad-ass Israeli spy bitch who’s working with the cops here to snatch him and take him back to Israel. But now that I’ve seen you, I know you first tried to have Cardoza hit and blame it on the IDI. Pretty smart plan if that dumb fucker didn’t fuck it up for you. And that’s why you came to clean up the evidence from that dumb fucker’s apartment.”
“I can pay you to release Nathan,” Molka said.
“How much?”
“I have almost 40 thousand reais in cash.”
Abreu flashed a dismissive face. “Not nearly enough.”
“Then my country will pay you a lot more than that.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely going to get paid a lot more than that, but I’m not waiting around for your country to do it.”
“How then?” Molka said.
“You’re going to trade me Cardoza for the sissy gringo. And then Cardoza will pay me.”
Stun, dread, and panic, broke free in Molka’s mind and wrestled for control again. She remained silent as she battled them back.
Abreu continued. “But while you contact your bosses for authorization and instructions, and all that shit, I’m going to work on the sissy gringo’s good hand with this.” He held up an orange chainsaw. “And then this sissy gringo will have to learn how to sketch and paint with his feet. If I’m nice enough to let him keep those. Because once I start this thing, it can get out of control quick. Or you could just make the deal right now. Deal?”
“What about my friend Olavo there?” Molka said.
“He told me he didn’t know he was leading the police to my home. No one told him who they were after for his own protection. And I believe him. And my boys tell me he has a good rep in my favela. So he’s free to go if we have a deal. Deal?”
Molka frowned. “Deal.”
“Now let me talk to Cardoza.”
Molka walked back into the shop, moved to the van, and slid open the side door.
Cardoza smiled at her. “Will we be leaving soon?”
“Call for you.” Molka turned the phone screen for Cardoza’s viewing.
Cardoza smirked. “Still alive, I see, Alejandro.”
“No thanks to you,” Abreu said.
“Thank you for the warning, by the way.”
“I should have shot you on my way out. But I just made a deal to trade you for one of the Israeli women’s people. That will cost you five million cash, on top of the one million you owe me, to be put by you personally in my hands.”
Cardoza’s face glowed. “Done. And thank you, Alejandro.”
Abreu said, “Back to you, Israeli bitch.” Molka turned the screen back to her face. “My boys will have the sissy gringo there in 20 minutes.”
The call ended.
CHAPTER 46
“When they write the biographies, and perhaps the screenplay, of my charmed life,” Cardoza said, “this incident will not even be deemed relevant enough for minor inclusion.”
Cardoza’s smug, taunting comment as Molka helped him from the van didn’t rate a response, but her suppressed rage couldn’t be stifled. “You seem very happy for a man who is about to be six million reais poorer and is still going to be indicted for four murders.”
“It is a long journey from indictment to conviction. And my excellent lawyers will vigorously contest every step. And as far as the substantial financial loss, if you cannot use your riches to buy your freedom, what purpose do they really serve you?”
Molka led Cardoza to the front of the van and leaned him against the bumper facing the open left-side garage door. “Just stay there and don’t try to run.”
“How can I even try until you removed these ankle shackles?”
“Exactly.” Molka time checked her phone: they should drop Nathan off in five minutes. She moved back to the van, opened the driver's door, retrieved her weapon from its holster in her purse, racked it, and returned to Cardoza’s side.
Cardoza glanced down at the Ruger in Molka’s right hand, looked out the door again, and smiled smugly. “I wonder what my good friend the president will say when I tell him your country conducted an illegal operation to abduct one of his favorite citizens?”
Molka answered. “And I wonder what your president will say when we ask the National Police of Brazil to inform him that one of his favorite citizens was caught by them as a houseguest of the country’s most notorious and wanted CV boss?”
Cardoza favored Molka with his disarming smile. “Well said. It appears for this incident, we are now thieves in law. And for their mutual benefits, thieves in law always keep each other’s secrets.”
“You seem to have a lot of secrets,” Molka said. “Including your school which takes underprivileged, vulnerable boys from the favela and turns them into crews of loyal, fanatic, criminal soldiers to help you extort all the money you can. A big step up from your single Ghost Crew in Tel Aviv.”
Cardoza’s smile faded. “What happened in Tel Aviv was not done on my orders. It was done against my orders. They were supposed to release the hostages, surrender, and take their prison sentences like men. But they panicked.”
“Maybe they panicked because they weren’t men. They were still boys.”
“I mourn what happened to the Harlevs and those boys in Tel Aviv every day. And I have tried to make amends in my own ways.”
“You mean through your charities here,” Molka said. “But is that really making amends, or is it just a selfish way to help you live with your guilt? I say it’s the second thing, and all the good you’ve done will forever be canceled out.”
Cardoza viewed Molka with pleading eyes. “That cannot be true.”
Molka screwed her face up in disgust. “What would your mother—the most gentle and sweetest of women who left this world far too soon—think of the man you became?”
Cardoza’s eyes fell to the floor. “She knew. And she despised me for it.”
A small, white four-door car pulled up and parked outside the shop about 10 meters from the garage door.
Molka kept her eyes on the car and aimed her weapon at Cardoza’s temple.
The rear passenger door opened, and a purple and black bruised-faced and shirtless Nathan stepped out with a tough-looking, Hispanic, black tee-shirted CV soldier right behind him, holding a pistol to the back of Nathan’s head.
Molka viewed Nathan’s battered right hand. He’d used his polo shirt to wrap it.
The black tee shirt addressed Molka. “How do you want to do this?”
Molka answered. “I’ll count to three, and then your man will walk slowly toward your car and get in while my man walks slowly toward me and goes inside.”
“Ok.” He nodded toward Cardoza. “Take all that shit off him first.”
Keeping the Ruger’s barrel to Cardoza’s temple, Molka used her left hand to remove a cuff key from her left front pocket, held it up for view, and then tucked it into Cardoza’s left front pocket. “Take it off him yourself.”
The black tee shirt frowned, annoyed. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Molka said. “Here we go. One, two, three. Move.”
Cardoza began a slow, shackled ankles walk toward the open rear passenger door.
Molka aimed her weapon at Cardoza’s back.
The black tee shirt used his weapon’s barrel to push Nathan’s head forward. “You too, gringo. Slowly.”
Nathan began a slow walk toward the open garage door.
The black tee shirt aimed his weapon at Nathan’s back.
As he approached, Nathan viewed Molka with brokenhearted eyes. “I’m so sorry, Molka. I didn’t want to let you down. I’m so, so sorry.”
Molka choked back fury. “No, sweetie. I’m sorry for sending you in there. Get in the van. We’re going to the hospital.” She focused her fury on Cardoza’s back. “Cardoza! Tell your savior, Abreu, I’ll come see him again someday. And this time, when I kick him in the head, I won’t stop until it rips from his shoulders.”
Cardoza answered without looking back. “I will pass along your thoughts. I somehow think he would welcome your trying.”
Molka called out again. “Cardoza! You know they’re probably going to send me after you again. And I can’t wait until they do.”
Just before he reached the car door, Cardoza glanced over his shoulder at Molka with a smug smile. “And I cannot wait until you see what I will do about that.”
PROJECT MOLKA: TASK 6
MONDAY
APRIL 26TH
CHAPTER 47
Counsel Basement Office
Israeli Embassy
Brasilia, Brazil
5:56PM
“They said he’ll need at least two surgeries to put in pins and screws,” Molka said from her seat in front of the secure video conference terminal wearing her pink polo and white shorts outfit with high-ponytailed hair and her black-framed glasses.
“What hospital is he in?” Raziela said.
“The university hospital, near the airport.”
Raziela wrote on a pad beside her monitor. “I’ll get him moved to a private facility in Rio and fly in our medical people to treat him.”
Molka reached behind her head and pulled on the base of her ponytail. “Now, before you start to critique me on the latest debacle of this task, I want to tell you a couple of things.”
“Please do.”
“The last thing I said to Cardoza was that I would be coming after him again. I said that out of anger and frustration. But if the reality is that Cardoza gets to walk away from this with just a long wait for extradition and maybe a long prison sentence, I’ll accept it, disappointingly. But it’s all my fault what that monster Abreu did to Nathan because I asked Nathan to accompany Olavo into the Forbidden Zone. And Nathan was very scared and didn’t want to go in there, but he did it for me anyway. And he’s the nicest, sweetest guy. And a guy I would love to have call me his friend. And I don’t have too many people who do that. So it’s not right if Abreu just gets to walk away.”
“Abreu put his hands on one of ours,” Raziela said. “The Counsel doesn’t abide that. And neither do I. I’ll tell you our plans for him shortly.”
Molka released her ponytail. “Ok. Good.”
“And as far as critiquing your latest efforts, to the contrary. They were admirable. I’m particularly impressed with the very clever triumvirate you formed with Major Fernandes and this Inspector Romansky of the RSS after Cardoza eluded you at Lake Tranquility. It shows your mind progressing from the minutiae of tactical thinking to the broad concepts of strategic thinking. You might make a good project manager someday.”
“Thank you,” Molka said. “And no, thank you. But now I have a request.”
“And what’s your request?”
“Granted, it will be much more difficult now that Cardoza knows about our operation here, but I actually would like one more chance to go after him before you report I failed this task. I’m willing to beg if necessary.”
Raziela fabricated a cheery smile. “I love your enthusiasm and commitment. Especially, after you have indeed failed your task by any conceivable measurement. However, what makes you think I’m ready to report your failure?”
Molka’s eyebrows rose. “Well, mainly because I’m sitting here in the embassy basement and Cardoza isn’t.”
Raziela grinned. “Yes, there is that. But earlier today, the law firm Cardoza has on retainer in New York City—who have high contacts in both our country and the Russian’s justice systems—secured a deal in which our country will not charge Cardoza, and Cardoza will instead plead guilty to charges in Russia for faking his own death. The Russian president b
elieves imprisoning the son of a former high-profile crime figure will send a powerful message to other organized crime leaders in Russia. He also believes it will be beneficial to his reelection, of course.”
Molka smirked. “I’m sure he does. And what did our prime minister get in return?”
“The Russians have promised more favorable terms for our crude oil imports from them.”
“And how many years in prison will Cardoza get?”
“Two,” Raziela said.
Molka sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Ha. Two years and cheaper gasoline for us. Is that all the Harlevs’ lives were worth? No justice for them?”
“The prime minister pointed out after his decision that the Harlevs’ direct killers, the Black Ghosts, were all killed by the police at the time.”
“Those boys were led into a criminal lifestyle by Cardoza. They’re victims too. No justice for them either? And what about all those boys here I told you about? Cardoza just gets a pass on all the carnage he’s left behind?”
“Two years in a Russian prison isn’t exactly a pass,” Raziela said. “That’s hard time in a hellhole. Now, have you checked in with Marvelous in the last few hours?”
“No,” Molka said.
“Why not?”
“Because since I got back last night, I’ve been moping around the apartment beating myself up.”
“Apparently, Cardoza destroyed his phone and found all the tracking devices on his vehicles because they’re offline now too. But he didn’t find the special smoke detector we placed in his office. And first thing this morning, he met again with this Abreu representative called Felipe about setting up a meeting to hand over the ransom he promised in exchange for his release.”
“He’s still going to pay that even though he’s leaving the country?”
“Yes,” Raziela said. “It’s a point of honor, Cardoza said, that he keeps his meeting with Abreu.”
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