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Elijah Radcliff shook his head in disbelief. “A restraining order. Against the goddamn Attorney General’s daughter. Benjamin… as if I didn’t have enough on my plate right now.”
Benjamin ran his hand through his hair… frustrated.
“I thought you said you’d leave the pharmaceutical industry alone!”
Elijah Radcliff put his hand on his grandson's shoulder. “I can’t. But I need you to know that I have my reasons for doing this. It’s for you. And maybe the family you hopefully will have one day. Why live your life in loneliness?”
Benjamin removed his grandfather’s hand from his shoulder and strode to the door.
“You have your reasons? What reasons are worth your life?! This donation makes no sense at all, Grandpa. Our money has always filled the pockets in D.C., but this? This is crazy. You are upsetting a lot of dangerous people. Everybody knows not to mess with the pharmaceutical industry. They are worse than the mafia. This will get you killed!”
Benjamin didn’t give his grandfather time to respond and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.
I just stood there, letting the words sink in. Something was not right here. They were arguing about donations that would upset the pharmaceutical industry... not how to sell underaged girls to old, perverted senators.
I watched as Radcliff stood there, staring at the door in sadness. He turned around like a battle-weary soldier, took a deep breath, and moved to the other door. He opened it, walked out onto the large terrace, and took the spiral stairs down into the dark garden.
I climbed down the side of the building and followed closely but silently.
He stopped by the fountain and took his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket. He put a stick in his mouth and tried the lighter.
I pointed the gun at the back of his head and got closer and closer until I was standing right behind him. He froze as if he knew I was there.
“Good evening, sir,” he suddenly said, confirming my fears.
My face was covered, so he wouldn't see me even if he turned. His voice sounded heavy, like it was full of stones.
“What an evening,” he continued as if I was only a trick his mind was playing on him. “The silver moon, the smell of flowers and upcoming rain... not a bad way to go,” he said, sounding prepared and calm.
There was a brief silence.
Who the fuck was this guy, really?
“In there. The fight with your grandson about donations. You... don’t make money with sex trafficking, do you?” I asked.
I lowered the gun a little and took a deep breath.
“Is that what they told you when they sent you to kill me?” he countered, slightly turning his head.
I remained silent.
“But to answer your question: no.” He sighed. “Trafficking women? No. That’s too low even for me. Real estate. I made my fortune there. Not everything was legal, but I never did anything to women and kids. Not my style.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I analyzed his voice. It sounded sincere, and with the conversation I had overheard only minutes ago, I knew this man was telling the truth.
I shook my head in disbelief. They had lied to me. The fucking CIA had lied to me! Tricked me. This guy was no Einstein of sex trafficking. He was just some filthy-rich guy who pissed on the wrong tree.
And yet... I thought of Elise and the baby. If I would just pull the trigger, they’d be fine. The CIA would get what they wanted and there was a chance they would stand by their word and free us.
So would it really be that big of a deal if I killed someone innocent if it was to save my family? I’d killed so often before. Never like this, but would it really matter that much?
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you,” I said in a low voice.
Mr. Radcliff looked down at the ground and shook his head. “I don’t have one. I have been a selfish man for a long time. I was never around to be with my family. Always chasing more and more money, even after I made billions. It drove my son into a loneliness he tried to solve with drugs. And now I am repeating the cycle with my grandson. He is as empty inside as his father was and as money hungry as I am. So if you need me to beg you and tell you of all the good I did... I won’t.” He shook his head. “In some twisted way, I’m glad it’s finally over.Iam finally over.”
I stared at him and wondered why I just relied on the CIA’s file and had never researched him myself. It was stupid. But time was of the essence. What in the name of God did this poor devil do to piss them off this much? Why did the CIA want him dead?
