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I freeze, tension twisting its way through the seventy-seven inches of my body. Then it explodes into a torrent of fury. I whip around with the same sudden ferocity I had earlier with Bernstein in my office.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” I growl. “Why are you recording my wife?”
One of the lackey’s holds up a handheld radio through which Leontine’s voice was transmitted. There’s a click like a door shutting and then just crackling silence. Someone was at the door. They knocked and then radioed her answer.
They’re watching her. The kids. The house.
I take more furious steps toward them and their smug faces, for once on the verge of losing my cool. “Answer me!? What are you doing outside my house!?”
“I don’t know about you,” Leandro says placidly, with a subtle incline of his head. “But it sounds like carolers. Maybe they knocked and had the wrong house.Or, maybe, they have the right house. Do they have the right house, Ernest? You tell me.”
“Don’t you ever think to come to my house and harass my family!”
“A little late for that. We’ve been there a while, Ernest. Your lovely wife has been setting up your special dinner for hours. And your children—Marcel and Delphine, right? Adorable kiddos. She let them out earlier to play in the snow. See for yourself.”
A different lackey steps forward to show me candid photographs taken only a couple of hours ago, before the sun set. Sure enough, the outfits they’re wearing match what they had on earlier. In the photos, Leontine smiles as she stands at the terrace door and watches Marcel try to walk Delphine across our snowy backyard.
Bundled up in their snow jackets and beanies, the photos are a flip book of each move they made. The first photo is Marcel holding Delphine’s little hand. The next photo is of the two’s snow boots sinking into the soft snow. The third photo is of them covered in white flakes with mouths open in laughter.
A play by play of their time outside, shot by some kind of far-off camera lens used to spy on them.
Leontine had no clue. It’s evident by the way she smiles and then helps them back inside she didn’t even know. There are others. Photos that offer clear enough shots through our house windows, of Leontine in the kitchen, Delphine in her playroom with her alphabet blocks, Marcel and his headphones passing in the foyer.
Their threat is clear. This goes beyond exposing my father. They’re willing to hurt not just my family name, but the members of my family.
“I hope that clears up any confusion,” Leandro says. “You’re going to participate, Ernest, like the others. The Society has been nice enough to agree to wipe your slate clean. We’re all friends here, after all.”
But as I glare back up at them, I’m not sure what to make of the peculiar combination of men. Leandro’s in mafia boss mode while the other two are polar opposites. Lucius is seconds away from salivating. The mystery man’s face remains as stoic and blank as ever, giving nothing away.
It wouldn’t surprise me if they care for Leandro as little as I do. Rarely is honor to be found among thieves.
Criminals.
“Now that that’s cleared up,” Leandro says. “Your first task was sent to you this morning. Bernstein needs your help. He is the mayoral candidate that will win the election. Just like you’re the candidate that will win DA.”
Of course. It’s rigged.
“I want nothing to do with the position if you people are involved.”
“That’s not the answer that’s in your family’s best interest, Ernest. Think again.” Leandro’s calm confidence transforms into a sharper, more intimidating energy in the air. The lines on his face deepen with the nasty curl of his mouth. “You’re going to help Bernstein or your family name is no more. And your wife? Your son and baby girl? They’ll be no more too.”
My heart sinks. For once, staring into the faces of evil, I’m speechless.
* * *
The lights are off by the time I make it home. I trudge up the stairs, one heavy foot at a time. I’ve lost count how many times I checked and rechecked the locks and our home security system. On my ride home, I phoned a friend of mine who runs a private security firm about setting up heightened measures for ourselves and our home.
Starting tomorrow, we’ll have security on the premises 24/7. I will have personal security and so will Leontine and the kids.
But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough for what I’m facing.
I stop outside Marcel’s room and crack the door open. He’s knocked out on his bed, his headphones lopsided around his head, his Walkman and comic book strewn across the comforter. I walk over and take both, setting them on his bedside table. Barely eleven, and he’s had his life threatened by ruthless gangsters.
The next room I visit is Delphine’s. My baby girl is sound asleep in her princess lair of stars and sparkles. Her angelic face is at complete ease, dreaming away about a future I know will be special. I pull her blanket up higher and then kiss her cheek.
I’ll do anything to protect them. Even if those actions may not always make me proud.
You can’t fight fair when you fight the devil. It’s impossible.
