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My chest is tight… so tight I almost struggle to breathe. I know that fucking bastard was involved in Sefi’s disappearance. I can see right through him, see through his deceit. If I could beat the information out of him, I would, my knuckles cracking as they smashed into his lying face.
“Signor Zanin,” I mutter. “There are just a few matters I need to clear up.” I thrum my fingers on the desk.
I’m about to ask him to go through his movements yesterday one more time, when the door to the interview room swings open, and Koffler enters.
He shoots me an urgent look. “Can I speak with you, Commissario?”
I nod, switch off the recording device, and follow him into the corridor. “What’s going on?”
“I checked a webcam from the Accademia.” Koffler’s blue eyes gleam. “At 2 p.m. yesterday, Zanin passed under the bridge in Signor Lorrer’s boat and he wasn’t alone.” Koffler unleashes a triumphant smile. “There was another man standing next to him by the wheel. And, you can clearly see, what looks like another person covered by a blanket on the seat at the stern.”
I almost let out a whoop. Instead, I punch the air and murmur, “We’ve got him.”
Koffler accompanies me back to the interview room. He switches the recording device on again, and we sit next to each other.
I clear my throat. “Can you explain, Signor Zanin, why the Accademia webcam filmed you at 2 p.m. in Signor Lorrer’s boat?”
Sweat breaks out on Zanin’s lip. “I was on my way to pick up the groceries for the Contessa…”
“With the help of a man and a person covered with a blanket?” I snarl.
Zanin’s swarthy face loses some of its color. He glances at his lawyer, who tells him he doesn’t have to answer my question.
“No comment,” he huffs.
I decide to change tack. Take the softly-softly approach. “There are many reasons why people become involved in organized crime. My guess is that the Syndicate has something on you, Signor Zanin. Or they’ve threatened you in some way…”
He shakes his head vigorously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I lean forward and trap him with a fierce look. “If we hadn’t picked you up last night, we’d have found your body floating in the Lagoon this morning.” I pause for a beat. “Do you think the Syndicate would have allowed you to stay alive when you know where they are holding Signorina Martinez?” I bark out a sardonic laugh. “I very much doubt it…”
“No… No…. You are trying to trick me,” Zanin stutters.
“Not at all. We have the evidence to hold you now, but if we’d released you, I’d give you zero chances of survival.”
I sit back in my chair. Wait for the information to sink into his lying, motherfucking brain. I steeple my fingers. “You have two choices. Choice numero uno: you help us and we protect you. We can set you and your family up in witness protection with a new identity. Choice numero due: you don’t help us and go to jail. Then, when you get out, the Syndicate will come after you.”
Zanin opens and closes his mouth. He glances at his lawyer, who nods at him. “Can I have time to think about it?”
“No. You. Can. Not.” I’m unable to keep the anger from my voice. “A young woman’s life is at stake.”
“They threatened to take my daughter,” Zanin blurts out, wringing his hands. “Said they would sell her into sex slavery if I didn’t help them…”
I’m not surprised. There’s often a threat involved when it comes to the Syndicate.
“And you trust them to keep to their side of the bargain?” My laugh is derisive. “What guarantees did they give you?”
“Um,” he grimaces. “I didn’t ask for any…”
“Even more reason to believe they’ll still go after your daughter.”
His eyes well up. “She’s only eighteen. My princess. So beautiful, and sweet…”
“Do you have any other kids?”
“Just Noemi. My wife couldn’t have any more children. Our daughter is the light of our lives.”
“You’d be able to keep her safe if we relocate you far away from Venice. If you went to jail, you’d leave her vulnerable.”
He releases a noisy breath. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can trust us more than you can trust the Syndicate.”
He appears to be struggling with what to say next, his eyes darting about the room. “Can you guarantee my daughter’s safety one hundred percent?”
I keep my eyes on him. “Nothing is ever one hundred percent certain in this life. But if you divulge Signorina Martinez’ location, I will send a team to pick up your wife and daughter, bring them here without delay, and we’ll relocate you forthwith.”
“I suppose I don’t have much choice,” he sighs. “I’m caught between a hammer and an anvil.”
Caught between a rock and a hard place, I remember Marco once telling me the equivalent in English. “You’ve made the right choice, Signor Zanin.”
