"No. I am against it. Categorically against it," Ostin repeated desperately, standing before me in Theron's office.
He nervously rubbed the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses.
"I'll write a letter of resignation. I'm out."
"You know you can't," Theron corrected him calmly, seated at his desk.
"Mirey, come to your senses," Ostin continued, and there was no longer any trace of his usual composure and strictness in his voice. Only panic remained. "If something happens again, I'll have to clean up half the city after him."
I believed that was no exaggeration.
"Be grateful that this time Travis treated us with understanding," he added irritably, casting a glance at Theron.
"What happened to him?" I remembered how Travis had flinched at the sight of Theron. Could it be…
I turned to Theron with a silent question.
He merely shrugged playfully.
"I promise I won't do anything dangerous. And I certainly won't go anywhere without warning. I'll be as careful as possible. At the slightest threat, I'll call you immediately," I tried to persuade Ostin.
The thought that he might leave because of me was repulsive.
"This is madness." Ostin stepped aside and heavily lowered himself into the armchair by the large table. "I haven't yet dealt with the echoes of the previous incident, and you are already handing me new potential problems."
He removed his glasses and tossed them onto the table, leaning back and tilting his head.
"Will you at least tell me what this is about? Before saying that I will once again bring trouble," I insisted.
As though I were a walking problem.
Although the center of problems was Theron.
"As you know, across the country we have subsidiaries and intermediary offices," Theron began calmly. "It was conceived as a woven network through which illegal transactions passed.
"All operations were chaotic. We could change directions, routes, use any office or port. But over the past year there have been too many leaks.
"And what about ending the criminal career?" I interrupted.
"It isn't done in a day." He looked at me sharply. "Even withdrawing illegal assets requires time. Terminating supplies and contracts concluded by my family does as well. I am working on it."
He took a folder from the locked drawer of his desk.
"Many in the clan are against the transition to legitimate business. Bypassing my prohibitions, they continue certain schemes. So that it does not destroy my plan, I cover for them."
A pause.
"But over the past year the FBI have begun to anticipate our deals too often. Do you remember the cargo you found on the first day?"
I remembered the containers whose weight did not match the documentation.
"My brother is an idiot," Theron continued coldly. "He sent contraband. I had to intercept it halfway. And it was the right decision."
His smile turned cold.
"The FBI also received the documents and found discrepancies. We don't know who passed them the documents. But there was a leak. They clearly expected more. In the end, they were only able to bring charges for improper documentation."
He turned a page in the folder.
"The story with the pendant is the same. The information was leaked in advance. Our system is complex, multi-layered. It is difficult to understand through which hands everything passes."
He looked straight at me.
"We have identified fifteen offices in New York through which the leaks occurred."
"We tried feeding false data to identify the source. But, as a rule, everything remained unnoticed," Ostin added. "We have already had precedents with leaks, but by a fortunate accident Liana exposed it."
"So that is how she proved her loyalty," I could not restrain a faint smirk.
Theron cast a questioning glance at me.
I turned away to Ostin, concealing my irritation.
"Yesterday I identified the office through which the last leak passed," Ostin pulled himself together, put on his glasses, and returned to his usual composure. "But at what stage and who exactly leaked the information is unclear. It could be accounting, administration, or managers."
"And how does this system work at all?" I asked. "You still haven't explained."
Ostin fell silent, waiting for Theron's approval.
"Tell her," Theron confirmed briefly, stepping out from behind the desk and stopping beside me, leaning against the edge.
"We have several stages," Ostin began. "The first is procurement and sending the signal. The second is a specific marking of the goods or the account number in the invoice. The third is the timing and deliberate errors in the spelling of the port, place, or name.
"Wait." I raised my hand. "Why the purchase of goods at all? How is that connected?"
Ostin nodded, accepting the question.
"A courier comes to the office and reports that the goods have been sent from the head office. He hands over receipts and invoices. For us, this is the signal that the deal has begun or the cargo has departed."
He spoke calmly, as though explaining an academic scheme.
"The documents indicate a date and a conditional point — these are our designations. Based on this data, we issue invoices: if it concerns a port — cargo, if services — the corresponding accounts. Everything depends on the type of operation.
"Money is transferred to these conditionally 'erroneous' accounts and remains there until the completion of the deal or transportation. It is a guarantee for both parties."
He adjusted his glasses.
"The third stage is confirmation of successful completion. It is a report or an arrival invoice that comes by mail. It always contains one deliberate error — a letter or a number. It does not affect the document, but it serves as a marker. Sometimes it is an extra space, a different font, a barely noticeable detail.
"After confirmation, the money is transferred to the partner."
"Who informs you of the delivery?" I needed details in order to understand whether I could be useful.
"When packages or documents from us arrive at one of the offices, they are obliged to call and confirm receipt. It is a security rule," Theron answered. "The call goes to a trusted person."
His voice became professional, concentrated. As though he himself were searching within his own words for a weak point.
"How much do you trust this person?" I stepped between them, avoiding Theron's direct gaze.
"He has been vetted," Theron cut off dryly. "There are no problems on that side. We need to understand who first deciphered the system. What they're latching onto if they so accurately guess ports and directions."
"Has been vetted"…
Most likely he had been vetted the same way I once was. I drove that thought away.
"May I have the list?" I nodded toward the folder in Theron's hands.
He slowly passed it to me.
I sat down and began to review the documents. The companies were from different industries, with different structures.
And suddenly my gaze caught on a name.
"Even 'Phoenix'?" I did not conceal my surprise.
"Them as well," Ostin confirmed. "If we are honest, we have suspected them for a long time. Dave used their capabilities too often. The leaks occurred precisely in the deals that went through them."
The system was too complex to be deciphered so easily.
"May we visit these companies?" I raised my head.
Displeasure was reflected on Ostin's face.
"To come with an inspection. Like at 'Phoenix.' You will go with me."
"Do you have ideas?" he asked cautiously.
"Your scheme is too complex and chaotic. I need to see the offices, the staff, the internal work. Perhaps I will be able to seize upon something. And at the same time we will check where your 'legal' money is going."
Silence.
"All right. That is what we will do," Theron exhaled heavily. "But not before the second of December."
"Why?" I did not understand why we should delay.
"Because normal people rest until the second of December. The holidays," Ostin reminded, gathering his belongings from the neighboring chair. "I will be here on the second with prepared requests. You may also draw up your own list, as last time. So that everything looks realistic."
"All right."
I again immersed myself in the documents.
Different companies. Different fields. Different reports.
There would be time to analyze everything.
While I was leafing through the papers, Theron dismissed Ostin for the weekend. I said goodbye, continuing to build schemes and hypotheses in my mind.
"We should go as well," Theron's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "You have a minor sister."
"Damn. Right," there was no arguing with that. "I suppose I cannot take this with me?" I closed the folder and held it out to him.
"You may," he answered calmly, even with satisfaction.
"Seriously?" I was still holding out the folder.
"Yes, sunshine. You may take it and reread it in your soft bed for days on end," he smirked.
He took my coat and, like a gentleman, put it on me.
Even after I had asked him to "be as before," his attitude had not changed.
Perhaps I simply was not accustomed to such treatment.
I had never known him that way toward me.
And it made me uneasy.
On the way to the car I asked what his plans were for the weekend. I said it almost automatically — as though I had the right. And at once I fell silent, realizing I had gone too far.
"Many family meetings, unfortunately," he replied with a heavy shade in his voice.
I decided not to go there. Better to focus on the companies. On the task.
"Mm," was all I said, trying to erase my question.
"Do you want to join?" I felt his smirk at my neck, the warmth of his breath.
"No. It's all right. I don't…" I faltered.
What "don't"?
Do not have the right?
Should not ask?
Should not interfere?
I suddenly realized that I did not know whether I could ask questions about his life at all. About that part which, in his opinion, was too dangerous for me.
"Always ask. Even if you are afraid. Ask, but do not be silent," he insisted.
The elevator doors opened. Holding me by the waist, he led me to the car.
Inside the cabin we sat in silence. He took my hand and slowly traced it with his thumb, looking out the window.
"What do you feel?" he asked unexpectedly.
He did not look at me.
"What do you mean?" The words came with difficulty.
"What do you feel toward me, Mirey?" He turned, as though searching for the answer in my eyes.
What do I feel after all this?
Do I have feelings?
Or am I simply hiding them?
Or are there none?
"I… I don't know," I said honestly.
His jaw tightened. He leaned his head back.
But the hand that held mine remained gentle.
"How shitty that he is right," he exhaled.
"Who?" I truly did not understand.
"It doesn't matter. Just remember your promise."
He took a bank card from his pocket and placed it into my palm.
"I sent the PIN code to your second phone."
After that he turned back to the window again.
But he did not release my hand.