Chapter 6 - NINE PIECES
Each language led to the next evidence location.
German to Russian.
Russian to Italian.
Italian to Arabic.
Some records existed physically.
Others as old depositions.
Port archives.
Bank correspondence.
One piece had been mailed decades earlier to a university library under a false catalog designation.
The person reconstructing the trail needed more than fluency.
They needed to recognize why the language was slightly wrong.
A native phrase rendered too literally.
A regional term used in the wrong country.
A historical spelling choice.
My mother had drilled exactly those details into me.
I became increasingly angry with every correct answer.
Rachel noticed.
“You’re doing well.”
“I don't want to.”
“You can stop.”
That stopped me.
No one had said that yet.
Not Giovanni.
Not investigators.
Not Mom, obviously.
“You can stop,” Rachel repeated.
“What happens to the evidence?”
“Someone else tries.”
“They might fail.”
“Yes.”
“And Calder?”
“Could stay ahead.”
I hated it.
Because Mom had created the exact emotional trap she knew would work on me.
Responsibility.
If you can help, how do you walk away?
I translated the Russian fragment.
Not because I forgave her.
Because I chose to.
That distinction became important.
Meanwhile Giovanni learned the original eleven million dollars had not vanished into Elias’s account.
It moved through shell companies.
Several controlled by Felix Calder.
Others connected to Domenico Moretti.
His father.
Giovanni stared at the transfer history for a long time.
“Your father built this company.”
Rachel said nothing.
Giovanni looked at me.
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“What you’re thinking.”
“You may have spent twenty-seven years looking for the wrong traitor.”
He nodded once.
No threat.
May you like
No denial.
Maybe because somewhere inside himself he had already known.
