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I had run this scenario hundreds of times. And all those scenarios came down to two things that stopped me. First, my sister deserved the honor or putting him down, and I would never let her get blood on her hands like that.
The other reason was simpler. Tabatha would look at me like I was a monster. So day after day, the piece of shit continued to draw breath.
I'd be damned before I gave him the gift of my anger.
The cold air of the morning helped to calm my fury as I marched into the nondescript brick facility that looked like a warehouse to meet him.
I was Agent Webb now, not the scared son I'd been then.
I had a job to do, and Antonio Igno would be the one to suffer, not me.
I sighed as I walked down the long hallway toward the holding cells.
I steeled myself then opened the door. Igno was sitting in the corner of his tripled-paned, bulletproof glass cell. In the corner, his toilet was covered by a barrier. His eyes were impassive, his arms crossed. He looked me up and down from his bed.
“Igno."
“Agent Webb. Are we going to continue that tedious exercise where you ask me questions that you know I won't answer?"
I gave him a wan smile. “Oh, you'll answer my questions now.”
“Will I now? How does today differ from any other day over the last two months?”
“Today I'm less inclined to worry about your safety and security.”
“Was that what that was when you tortured me? That must be against some Geneva Convention agreement somewhere. What would your father say?”
The burning flash of fire in my gut roared to life. I clenched my hands together tightly to keep from moving. Any shift, any change would clue him in that I did not have a handle on my emotions. and this was urgent. “When we arrested Connor Lohman, your people helped him escape. But it couldn't have been done without an inside resource. Who was it?”
“You have come here for answers," Igno said. "But I don’t have any for you."
I raised an eyebrow. "This is an easy thing for you. Give a little to get a little.”
He shrugged. "You don’t have anything I want." His voice carried a hint of an Italian accent.
"That's not true. I have information you're going to find very compelling." I started to pace. I'd been holding onto this negative information for months, not knowing when it was going to come in handy. I didn't want to utilize it too soon, but Gennifer Goode had dropped a bomb on me last night, and I needed information.
His eyes narrowed as he watched me carefully. “I don't get many visitors. Is it too much to ask for some civil conversation before business?"
"After you murdered my parents? Yes. Tick-tock, you mangy old geezer. I have somewhere to be. Do you want to know what I know about your son Massimo or not?"
He sat up straighter. “What about my son?”
“Not so fast. Who helped you get Lohman out? And how did you know we had him?”
“What do you know about Massimo?" That was the thing about Igno; he might have been a narcissist, but he built his son in his own image. He wouldn't be able to resist knowing what was going on with him.
“That's not how this works. Talk to me about Lohman.”
At first, I thought he wouldn't say anything. But then he shifted in his seat. “I had a transmitter in Lohman’s tooth. You wouldn't have noticed. It was next-gen tech. When he was being moved, he was to activate the tracker in his tooth, and we scooped him up in transit.”
I sat back, staring at him. “You didn't have inside help?”
He just gave me that evil smile. “I gave you information. Now you give me some. What is the news of my son?”
“Nice try. But you didn't actually give me the information I came for.”
“Sorry it wasn't exactly what you're looking for. What's the matter? Do the spies have spies? Perhaps a mole?”
