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Until a nightmare struck.
I thought back to today’s dinner when I’d seen her messaging Anton under the table. “What did your grandfather have to say at dinner?”
“You saw that?”
I chuckled. “Of course I did. I’m preternaturally aware of you, Star. Duh.”
Warmth gleamed in her eyes—she liked hearing that. Not that she’d admit it.
“I asked what Mom’s original mission was when she got with Dad.”
“Which was?”
“Related to the Lockerbie bombing.” She tensed. “Allegedly.”
“Huh. Interesting.” Then, a thought occurred to me. “That’s where Eoghan said he was sent for training—Lockerbie.” When her mouth tightened, I asked, “Coincidence?”
“No such thing.”
My brow furrowed. “But if Jorgmundgander had her killed… Why…”
“More questions. No answers,” she rasped.
Sensing and empathizing with her frustration, I decided to change the subject somewhat and processed everything we’d learned today. “This is about the estate next to Dagger’s?” A single nod was her answer. “You think the drugged women at the party were Sparrows’ victims?”
“No way of knowing for sure. I checked who the estate belongs to, and it’s owned by ‘Bright Holdings.’ The directors are tucked behind a bunch of bullshit Belizean laws that protect shadow corps.” Her sniff of disapproval was followed by a tug on her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you know how much a body is worth on the black market?”
“Ah. We’re back to organ harvesting?” When she hitched her shoulder, I sighed. “It’s around half a million, isn’t it?”
This time, her glance was less hesitant and more appreciative. “You researched this.”
“Of course I did. It was worrying you so I checked it out, but we’ve scoured every aspect of the Sparrows’ comms platform and tore it apart for Interpol,” I pointed out. “Nowhere there did they talk about that. Nowhere were there any references to harvesting the women they sold for their organs. No money to follow, Star. So if—”
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” she blurted out.
“I think if they’ve hidden that from us, there’s plenty of other shit we haven’t uncovered yet. Was there anything in Bear’s motel room?”
“No. Nothing. Not in all the files he left behind either.” For a second, she looked guilty. “I’ve scoured them twice. It’s an itch I can’t scratch.” She rubbed at her forehead. “Maybe that’s why Reinier brought it up—to drive me insane.”
“You could ask your grandfather. Or his Pauks?”
“The Brotherhood fed Bear’s investigation.”
“How do you know?”
“Steganography. Bear stored a lot of info on some random pictures. The code led me to the Pauks. I was sure that I told you.”
“I’ve slept since then. Not a lot, but some,” was my sheepish retort.
She hummed. “If the Pauks knew anything, it’d have been in Bear’s motel room. Ergo, Anton and his Pauks know dick.”
When she stared blankly ahead, I questioned gently, “Hey, where’s your head at?”
“There’s a massive market for this,” she rasped. “As far as I can tell, it’s mostly the Mexican cartels who are peddling this particular ware…”
“But?”
“Why would you run such an extensive trafficking system without having that as a sideline? There had to be pregnancies that resulted from their brothels and, I mean, I hate to go there, but kids…”
