Chapter 3 - THE WATCH HE KEPT FOR THREE YEARS
Nobody touched the watch.
It sat between the wineglasses like evidence.
I couldn't take my eyes off it.
“You had this,” I said.
Dominic nodded.
“For three years.”
“Why?”
“Because your father asked me to keep it.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
The answer surprised me.
Dominic pushed the watch toward me.
“I expect you to hear the rest before deciding.”
I didn't touch it.
Victor pulled out a chair.
“Sit.”
I almost laughed.
“You don't get to tell me what to do.”
Victor nodded.
“Fair.”
That was the first time anyone at the table had spoken to me like an equal.
Natalia remained standing.
She looked at Dominic.
“Tell her.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“You tell her.”
“No.”
Natalia shook her head.
“This is your debt.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Your father was translating a negotiation in Warsaw.”
I listened.
“During that meeting, he discovered that several shipping companies were using legitimate contracts to move something else.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Weapons?”
“No.”
“People?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Information.”
I frowned.
“Information?”
“Ports. Customs schedules. Government tenders. Military supply routes. Private security contracts.”
Victor continued.
“Someone was selling access.”
I looked at him.
“To whom?”
Victor's expression hardened.
“We don't know.”
Dominic corrected him.
“We know one thing.”
“What?”
“The person was close enough to manipulate both sides.”
I looked at the watch.
“And my father found them.”
“Yes.”
“What did he give you?”
Dominic didn't answer.
Natalia did.
“A list.”
She reached into her bag again.
This time she removed a folded sheet.
“The names of twelve people.”
I looked at it.
“Why didn't you give this to the police?”
Dominic gave a humorless smile.
“Because half the names were government officials.”
Victor added, “And the other half were protected by people who would have buried the evidence.”
I understood then why my father had been afraid.
But it didn't explain his death.
“Who killed him?”
Dominic looked down.
“We don't know.”
“You expect me to accept that?”
“No.”
He touched the watch.
“But I know who wanted him silenced.”
“Who?”
“Someone inside my organization.”
I stared at him.
“You're a mafia boss.”
“Yes.”
“So someone in your organization killed my father.”
“Possibly.”
“Then why should I trust anything you say?”
Dominic looked at me for a long moment.
“You shouldn't.”
That honesty disarmed me.
He continued.
“Trust the evidence.”
He opened the back of the watch.
Inside was a tiny folded piece of paper.
My hands went cold.
Dominic slid it toward me.
I opened it.
There were four words.
THE FIFTH NAME IS WRONG.
I looked at Natalia.
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head.
“Your father wrote it.”
I read it again.
Then something clicked.
My father had taught me a strange habit when I was a teenager.
Whenever he translated complicated documents, he never trusted a list simply because it looked official.
He always checked the fifth entry.
He called it his “five-name rule.”
I had thought it was just one of his quirks.
Now I understood.
“The fifth name was changed.”
Dominic nodded.
“Exactly.”
I looked at the list.
There were twelve names.
I counted.
The fifth was a man named Anton Belov.
A European logistics executive.
I recognized the name.
He had been mentioned in international news several times.
“What is wrong with him?”
Victor answered.
“He doesn't exist.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Anton Belov is a constructed identity.”
I stared at the page.
“So the fifth name isn't a person.”
“No,” Natalia said.
“It is a position.”
My stomach tightened.
“What position?”
Natalia looked at Dominic.
“The person controlling the American side of the operation.”
Dominic's face darkened.
“And that person has been inside my company for years.”
I suddenly understood why he had been watching me so closely.
My father hadn't merely discovered a criminal network.
He had discovered a person connected to Dominic.
I pushed back from the table.
“I want to go home.”
Dominic nodded.
“Fine.”
I stood.
He added quietly,
“But don't go alone.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“Because whoever killed your father now knows you understand Russian.”
I looked at him.
“You think they're watching me?”
“I know they are.”
Natalia's expression changed.
She looked toward the restaurant entrance.
A man in a dark coat had just entered.
He didn't look at us.
He walked directly to the host stand.
But on his wrist was a black leather watch.
Natalia whispered something in Russian.
I understood immediately.
“That's him.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Who?”
“The man my father was afraid of.”
The stranger turned.
His eyes met mine.
Then he smiled.
He raised his hand.
In it was a photograph.
My photograph.
The one from my employee file.
He placed it on the host stand.
Then he walked out.
Dominic rushed after him.
I grabbed the photograph.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
YOUR FATHER WASN'T THE LAST TRANSLATOR THEY SILENCED.
Below it was an address.
May you like
And a time.
MIDNIGHT. PIER 17.
