Sophia nodded. My computer. It was my computer that lead the kidnappers to us.

“Have you backed up all the photos and documents from this machine?”

Sophia nodded once more. She knew that if she opened her mouth to answer she would start crying. Again.

“-Mrs. Leibowitz. Please?” The expert had continued talking but she hadn’t heard. Sophia looked to Felipe and Edward for help.

“Yes, we will keep in touch, won’t we, Sis?” She nodded for the nth time that day. “Thank you very much.” Felipe and Edward followed the expert out of the room to the stairs where Edson, her butler, was waiting to see him out.

Meanwhile, Gilberto, her driver, knocked on the opened door. “Doutora Sophia?”

“Do you have news for me?” Her throat was so raw from screaming at night that it was difficult to speak.

From behind his back, Gilberto revealed a small steel box, like an old fashioned medical box. It was sealed with tape. In his other hand, he held an envelope.

Without a word, Sophia rose and motioned for Gilberto to follow her to the terrace.

She squinted in the sunlight, lowered her sunglasses and sought refuge under the parasol. She sat on one of the reclining chairs.

Her sad smile turned into a dark grin as she looked at the steel box, “The fingers?”

“Doutora Sophia, you don’t want to see those.” He shook the box and Sophia heard soft thumps. “My brother guaranteed me it was done as you requested.” He stretched his hand that held the envelope. “The warlord sent you... Err... A gift. A photo.”

Gilberto opened the envelope, pulling out a photo placing it next to Sophia.

Twelve male faces stared back at Sophia. White, mixed and negro men. Tall, average and short. Thin, muscular and fat. Bald, blond and dark-haired.

Crime isn’t picky. She smiled sadly at her weird thought. Twelve completely different men. For her, they had only one thing in common: they had murdered her husband. They had murdered her love, her daughter’s father, her dream, her life.

“You can see that as you ordered,” Gilberto pointed at the photo with the steel box, “each one has lost their ring fingers.”

Sophia heard a shocked gasp and a sharp intake of breath behind her. She turned and faced her brother with an impassive face. “Don’t judge.”

Then she looked at Edward Davidoff, who had come for Gabriel’s funeral.

Sophia tilted her head to the side, studying him, as he stood on the enormous terrace. Under the Carioca sun and the absurd humidity, elegantly dressed in a tailored gray suit and dark-gray tie, Edward was rooted to the ground, openmouthed. His English flair had abandoned him.

Felipe scowled and his mellifluous voice turned hard and cold. “Sophia, you’re a lawyer. They-”

“They tortured and killed my husband!!” she screamed hoarsely, raising from the chair and stalking up to him. “They killed Gabriel!” She pushed Felipe aside and stormed off.

Felipe ogled the driver. “How did she find them?”

“Doutor Felipe, they were hiding near where my brother lives.” Gilberto raised his chin. “I told her. It was her right to order their deaths. We know the police wasn’t going up there to arrest them.”

Edward, who was recovering from the shock, asked even more horrified, “Have they been killed?”

“She didn’t wanted it,” Gilberto answered in his hard learned English. “We avenge our own. It’s the law of the slums.” He faced Felipe and shook his head slowly. “Doutor Gabriel was a great helper of our community. She give her leave when she asked for the fingers.” He shrugged. “She told me she only wanted the fingers, but some things are beyond anyone’s control. All of them, except he,” he pointed to one of the men in the photo, “died yesterday night. In the microwave.”

Edward looked at Felipe, “Microwave?”

“You don’t want to know,” Felipe grimaced, disgusted. “Please, Gilberto, get rid of these.” He motioned to the box in Gilberto’s hand and the photo

“No.”

The command, voiced in a whisper, made the men turn around.

“I want the photo.” Sophia was leaning on the sliding glass door, looking like she would faint at any minute, holding a thick envelope in her hand.

“Eleven men are dead because of you, Sophia,” Felipe thundered, glaring at her. He stepped in her direction and stopped, fisting his hands. “Who do you think you are? God?”

They were not supposed to be killed. A sudden anger burst inside her and, clenching her hands, she faced Felipe. “Do you know what?” she screamed at her brother in her raspy voice. “They tortured Gabriel for ninety-six days and then killed him. They deserved it. They deserved to die.”

Felipe stepped closed to her and, lowering his head, he hissed, “Maybe they did. But you, Sophia, you should know better. You lowered yourself to their level. Now, you’re a criminal, too, exactly like them.”

Sophia paled when the consequences of her decision struck her and her legs gave way.

Edward grabbed her before she fell to the floor and laid her down on the reclining chair. The envelope she was holding fell to the marble floor and stayed there. She breathed, “I didn’t know.”

“You should have!” Felipe roared.

“It got out of control, Felipe.” Edward pointed to the envelope on the floor. “What is that?”

“What I promised,” she whispered. “For the fingers.”

“This is absurd, Sophia. Absurd,” Felipe raked both hands in his hair. “You can’t do this. You committed a crime. A crime.”

She shrunk under her brother’s condemnation. “I didn’t know they were going to be killed, Felipe.” She bit her lip and said, “In the microwave.”

“What the hell is this microwave?” Edward asked Gilberto.

“Well, they’re placed stand up inside a row of tires and...” Gilberto shrugged, almost apologetic, “set on fire.”

“Fucking hell!” Edward had never heard such a barbaric thing.

“I’m sorry,” Sophia breathed.

Felipe couldn’t believe that his dear, level-headed, gentle sister had ordered such a savage thing. He shook his head at her, “Too late now, Sophia.”

Edward decided to take control of the situation. “Sophia, the envelope and the money have your fingerprints. How much do you need?”

“A hundred-thousand dollars.” She looked past him, searching her driver’s eyes, as she said feebly, “Gilberto, I want you to find their families. And tell the women to look for Júlia Soares, my secretary, at the Foundation. They will be taken care of.”

“I will,” Gilberto answered.

“No!” Edward exclaimed. “Sophia, think! You’re going to incriminate yourself.”

“Doutor Edward, there’s anything that can incriminate Doutora Sophia. They invaded our place. It was just another fight between rival drug cartels from two different slums. If it’s ever discovered.”

“Pardon?” Edward was stunned.

“They will simply be missing men. Numbers. In a police report,” Felipe explained, delving a hand in his ink-black hair.

Gilberto shrugged again, nonchalantly. “The microwave, the wind, the rain... There aren’t much left to tell a story.” His white teeth glowed in the sun when he smiled, a stark contrast against his dark skin. A blatant mocking disregard to the horror and seriousness of the situation. “Besides, who will care enough to go searching for criminals up in that hell?”

Leibowitz Oil Building.


Thursday, March 25th, 2010.


1 p.m.

“Mr. Davidoff,” Sarah approached the sofa where Edward had laid Sophia and handed him her cell phone. “It’s been ringing insistently. It’s someone she labeled as ‘Handsome’.”

A small smile appeared on Edward’s worried face. “It’s Mr. MacCraig. Tell him that Sophia can’t answer right now and that you’ll let her know he has called.” Edward drummed his fingers on his knees, impatiently and turned to Martha, the company’s nurse, “Why is she still unconscious?”

“It’s because of her blood pressure. It’s still very low, Mr. Davidoff,” the nurse explained.

“The ambulance will be here shortly. Her doctors will be waiting for her at the Harley Street Clinic,” Sarah said after she answered Sophia’s iPhone.

“Bring her things, Sarah, please,” Edward looked at Martha, a frown between his brows. “I think it’s better to wait for the ambulance downstairs. Too much time has passed since she fainted. I’ll carry her.”

“It’s best not to move her, Mr. Davidoff. Let’s just wait here.”

1.02 p.m.

“NO!” Sophia’s eyes shot open. She saw four worried faces looking down at her: Edward, Liang, Sarah and Martha.

She blinked. As she remembered where she was, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line. Damn!

Liang perched on his haunches beside her. “Are you okay, Mrs. L?”

“Sophia? What are you feeling?” Edward’s eyes showed his concern.

She breathed, “Do me a favor, Liang.”

“Anything, Mrs. L.”

“Please make sure that... LO network and my home computer... are inviolable,” she asked in a wispy voice.

“Don’t worry. It will be done immediately,” he answered and left to comply.

“They are downstairs, Mr. Davidoff. Should they come up?” Sarah asked and Edward nodded.

“Who, Sarah?” Sophia asked, shutting her eyes to stop the dizziness.

Sarah looked to Edward for guidance, who nodded his head.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Leibowitz, please.” Alistair’s deep voice reached her from afar.

Where is he?

“I don’t fucking care. Move,” she heard his firm order.

Edward opened his office door and saw Sophia’s bodyguard and driver blocking Alistair’s path. “Zareb. Steven. It’s okay.”