Diamonds Break

Dealing with the Devil

Black. Smoke. Leather against leather

That's what we saw on the video feed while we watched our men in Rio run. It was as chaotic as a modern heist movie on television. They were screaming above the smoke trying to get a grip of what's happening around them. One of my guys, Antonio, led the team between alleys before our connection got disconnected. In a similar way that feeling of doom was replicated a thousand of miles away, here in our crammed hideaway. But for unknown reasons, while everything was at standstill, my mind was racing.

"Irina, go check on them and keep them under your wing for a while. You know the procedures we have in place, follow them."

"Michael, go book us a flight to Rio."

"And Irina, ship our men out of there as soon as possible. We don't know who we are up against."

Everyone snapped back to themselves as I dictated my orders. Irina disconnected and the last thing I heard was her voice full of command. My team here in England are now packing their equipment and move to our headquarters with Diego. He will be in charge of our normal operations here while I try to see what's happening in Rio.

Michael and I are now driving to my flat to pack a bag for Rio. It's already morning by the time the car came to a halt just outside a white three-story townhouse. This townhouse nestled on the streets of trees and quaint street lamps. It blends along the terraced housing in the city.

It is unusual for someone with my status to be in the center of the city, considering safety protocols but I figured that the Mafia would not like attention. So, I put myself in the middle of it. Michael, who is as paranoid as a newly-birthed mother, bought the nearby houses which acted as my neighbors. He said if I want to make their jobs easy, I should compromise. So, yes, everything here is a facade.

I jumped out of the car as soon as Michael parked it on the curb while He ran to the nearby house to pack his set of bags. I heard him calling a few of our recovered security detail to join us. He may have planned this a while ago when we were in the warehouse.

I opened my front door and kicked my heels away, and walked to my closet to retrieve my personal items. After changing into comfortable jeans and a plain shirt, I stuffed everything I got from my closet in a duffel bag with my passport. I'm thinking of everything that's happened for the last few weeks. The bust, Ethan, the gala, my wound. Speaking of, i forgot its existence. So, I grabbed the nearest loose jacket to cover the bandage. From the looks of it, it's holding up well.

I ran downstairs to meet Michael when I noticed him with other men by my foyer. Michael looked up with his crunched up eyebrows as we tilted his head to the guy beside him. Ethan.

He is standing straight with his hands on his pocket, his usual stance, and he is still wearing last night's suit except that his coat is missing and his arm cuffs unclasped. He turned his attention to me as I land the last step. That's when I noticed a guy on his knees, blindfolded, and restrained by what appears to be Ethan's man.

"Good Morning" ​​Ethan's voice cut through the tension.

"What's going on?" my eyes darted between the captive and him. I turned to Michael for answers.

Michael stepped forward before he explained the weird scenario I am facing. "Ethan came across this man who's waiting for us — you. I think he'd like to present a bullet as a gift." Shivers. I felt it. the gravity of the situation evident in his voice. I've never been this visible to the enclosed life of the mafia.

How'd he know who am I? That's the question I want this intruder to answer.

"How did he find me?" That was the question burning within me.

"And why are you here, Ethan? How did you know where I live?"

He didn't answer but presented me with today's morning papers. The crisp gray paper was folded to page 5 and on top of the page was an article about last night's gala. On top of it was a picture of a benefactor smiling with the hosts as they posed for the camera. But on the right corner of the image nestled Ethan's face and my back. It was the time we were arguing but the angle made it look like we were intimate. My back was against the photographer but my silhouette is noticeable. But more importantly, Ethan's face was clear as day.

"How is this connected? Is this one of your enemies coming after me?"

My anger surged, ready to confront Ethan. It's his fault my identity is in danger. If it wasn't his stupidity to take our fight in public eye, then we wouldn't be in this place in the first place. We could still be enemies but under every Mafia's playbook.

"I would have said yes to that five hours ago. But it seems that we now have a common enemy"

Ethan grabbed the man's head and pulled the man's shirt downwards. Recognition hit me like a tidal wave. The south-American crest was engraved on his chest. I know that one. It's the Garcia clan in Rio, one of the Edevanes' lethal enemies who keeps on retaliating Ethan's reign in South America. It was as if I got hit by a train when it dawned on me. Rio, the operations, the bomb. Everything is happening so fast that we didn't anticipate this kind of chess game being played so quickly. If I were to finish what was started, I need a mafia's mind to help me plan; preferably my fiance's mind.

"How did you know this one's after me?"

"The newspaper article was given to my guards in the airport. I could've just gotten you killed by not doing anything but you are more valuable alive."

I pressed for clarity. "Figures. What's in it for you?"

"Your factories," Ethan began, his tone laced with something else "Exclusive access to it until I have Australia and Japan –"

"and you'll help me with Rio and the Feds?"

He nodded.

I looked up to Ethan and I could see our silent truce. All cards are now on the table. If this is what it's like dealing with the devil, then I'll show him how to deal with one too. Let the games begin. 

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