“No. Please. I’ll talk. I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Go ahead. The floor’s open. We’re oh so eager to hear what you have to say,” I taunt.
“Mortimer agreed to work with Riccardo Balesteri when he told him your father had liaisons in motion with the Russian and Italian government. It was for the Syndicate to take over various business contracts,” he explains in a weak voice. I ball my fists at the mention of my father.
I knew there was going to be more shit I wouldn’t like.
“Go on,” I encourage.
“It would have meant more wealth, control, and power for the Brotherhood. Control over resources the criminal underground thrive on. Owning the oil company made your father the wealthiest in the Syndicate, so the heads of government agreed to sign over contracts with him. He planned to pass on the ownership to the Syndicate to be shared as a group. Mortimer has always been looking for a way to eradicate the Syndicate. He wanted them wiped out, but he wanted your father dead because without him the contracts would be void.”
I have to look to Massimo for strength because I just got confirmation that Mortimer ordered the death of someone else who was important to me. My father.
Massimo can’t look at me though. He’s glaring at Wilson. So is Dominic.
I turn my attention back to Wilson and try to keep my cool. I want to find out everything there is to know. Then I’ll kill him. Blow his head off and hope it will feel comparable to being blown to smithereens.
“What else is there?” I demand. “There must be more. I don’t care who you are. Ex-army officer, or fucking tech god. You had to have help to pull off such a stunt.”
“Riccardo wasn’t the only member of the Syndicate who turned on them,” he rasps. “There were five other groups involved in Mortimer’s plan.”
Jesus Christ. I did suspect that too. Damn it, I hate being right. When I heard what happened I figured such a plot would only make sense if someone else was helping all of them. And the fucking culprits has to be people we know.
The Syndicate was made up of six families. Four Italian families and two Bratva.
Since it can’t be Ricardo’s family, the D’Agostinos, or the Romanovs. That leaves the others.
“Who are they? Give me names,” I demand.
“I just know of the Volkovs, but Ricardo double crossed them.”
My blood heats and I can feel the tension rippling off everyone around me.
Massimo was contemplating contacting them to reform the Syndicate. Hearing this makes me see people really can’t be trusted.
“What about the others?”
“I don’t know the names of the others. I just know the contracts your father signed was the thing to put the wheels in motion to get everyone together. ”
“You don’t know any more names!” Massimo shouts.
“No. I heard mention of Italians. No names though.”
The Mazzones were the only other Italian family in the Syndicate. But he hasn’t given their names. It might be them, or might not be.
“Kruv’ omertà,” he mutters and my nerves spike at the mention of those words. “I heard that said a few times.”
I narrow my eyes and glance at Massimo. Kruv’ omertà is a secret blood oath for the vow of silence formed between a member of the Bratva and a person from La Costa Nostra.
It’s a rare oath. In all my thirty years I’ve only ever heard of the oath in passing perhaps twice. It’s not something that’s widely practiced because it’s a serious oath that binds those who have taken it until death.
“Who did you hear say that?” I ask.
“Mortimer.” Wilson looks to Massimo then back to me. “I don’t know anything else. That’s all. The people who got together wanted to tear down the Syndicate. The plan failed when Riccardo died. They thought he would be the last member. He was supposed to be an asset to them with all the wealth he would have inherited from the Syndicate. As long as the Syndicate exists and it’s out of their control you will always have those enemies lying in wait for the next chance.”
It seems like he’s given us everything he can, and it is too much. Too much to process because it means eighteen months ago was just the tip of the shit. There’s more to discover, more things we need answers for.
“And you? What did you do?” Massimo asks. I can tell from the tone in his voice death is next in the cards. “You made the bomb, how’d you get it in?”