Under the Long White Cloud by Davies A. D

Author:Davies, A. D. [Davies, A. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07BWQ9FDL
Goodreads: 40096292
Publisher: Crater of the North Publishing
Published: 2018-05-10T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

“I heard you want to talk.”

There was always something off about Vila Fanuco. He was a criminal who made his name out of the ashes of wars in the Baltic states, driven by an oxymoronic blend of rage and emptiness in his soul after the murder of his family. Already highly-trained in covert operations for his country’s military, an expert in tactics and guerrilla warfare, he dropped out of that profession and engaged in underground resistance against the murderers, rapists, and profiteers who masqueraded as a legitimate military force.

However, resistance requires funding. To this end, Fanuco—although that was not his name back then—became an expert in making money from war, becoming something of a profiteer himself. After the conflict, he maintained his contacts, held onto his smuggling routes, and harbored that emptiness in his soul that allowed him to murder with impunity, and allowed his rage to take pleasure in the vanquishing of business rivals. He formed a cooperative of likeminded businessmen, linked through need rather than commerce, one that spiderwebbed across Europe, the Far East, and much of the Middle East and Northern Africa. Drugs, people, weapons; all separate groups and businesses, but working together when needed to evade the authorities.

When I first encountered him, Fanuco had softened some, his glee and pleasure and murder confined to what was necessary to maintain his affairs and freedom, but he would still order the execution of a traitor, a mole, or a person who threatened a single euro of income. Rather than kill me, though, he saw something that he could use, something I barely detected myself. He manipulated me, drove me to kill for the first time, and set me on a path that reignited a need to be strong, to be able to fight, to learn how to use firearms. It was his involvement in my life that allowed me to survive against Rangi McDonald.

Recently, I squirmed free of him. But I was always welcome back in the fold.

“Yes, I want to talk,” I said. “Just talk. A favor, if that’s possible.”

“The information you sent me,” his smooth voice said over the computer’s speakers. “It was interesting.”

“The Wolf Razors,” I said. “What can you tell me?”

“This … favor.” I pictured him licking his thin lips. The way he smiled was always animalistic, predatory, even when genuinely happy, giving the illusion that he possessed too many teeth. “Does it mean you will owe me again?”

“No. It gives you peace of mind that I’m staying out of trouble. You know how these things can escalate. My activities, if people look too deep, might cross with yours. You’re still using what I did in America to make inroads there, aren’t you?”

A pause. “Nothing that can be considered illegal.”

“Relax, I’m not recording this. In fact, if you try a trace, you’ll find the opposite.”

Jess had set up the comms as she had with Venna, making a trace all but impossible, and anyone listening in would get nothing but static from our end. I suspected Fanuco had the same setup.

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