I can hear him typing rapidly again.
“According to the official report, the brakes failed while she was inside a parking garage. Her vehicle crashed through the barrier wall on the top level and dropped six stories.”
Gunnar’s expression darkens immediately. “That’s not impossible,” he says carefully.
“No,” Mattis agrees. “It’s not, but the maintenance logs make it highly improbable.”
“Go on.”
“The vehicle had a full inspection forty-eight hours before the crash. No issues. No defects. No hydraulic problems.”
Mattis pauses, but I can hear him typing on his keyboard.
“And the mechanic who signed off on the inspection disappeared two weeks later.”
Gunnar sits forward. “What do you mean, disappeared?”
“I mean, his apartment was cleared out overnight, his bank accounts were emptied, and his family claims they haven’t heard from him since.”
“Could’ve run.” I sigh, though the words sound weak even to me.
“Could’ve,” Mattis agrees. “Except his passport was still in his apartment.”
Gunnar’s jaw tightens. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Mattis lowers his voice slightly, losing some of the frantic energy. “So, then I started looking into the ambassador himself.”
Gunnar rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”
“Because it’salwaysthe spouse,” Mattis comments.
I blink slowly. “What?”
“The husband. It’s always the husband. Or the wife. Don’t you watch Dateline? Dead spouses almost always play their part.”
“That is an insane sentence,” I mutter.
“And yet historically accurate,” he corrects.
Gunnar leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “I’m listening.”
“And?” I ask.
“And before his wife died, the ambassador was vehemently against opening the Cartagena port expansion.” We all know how important the port in Cartagena is. Shipping lanes. Customs access. Political leverage. It’s one of the biggest drug routes to the US. We’re talking millions—maybe billions—in movement.
Mattis keeps talking. “He fought the proposal publicly for almost two years. Called it dangerous. Said it would increase cartel access through commercial channels. He blocked permits, delayed votes, buried approvals.”
“And after his wife died?” Gunnar asks quietly.
“He changed his stance almost overnight.”
Coldness crawls down my spine.
Mattis exhales shakily. “Not just changed. He became the face of the expansion.”
“What?” I stand slowly from my chair.
