“Use the offshore trusts in Panama to bypass the delays,” I said. “Alessandro set them up for emergencies. This is an emergency.”

For the next four hours, we worked in near silence.

The only sound was the click of keys and the hum of the hard drives.

We identified the dummy corporations, the real estate holdings, and the cash reserves hidden in Swiss accounts.

It was millions of euros, all accumulated through exploitation.

By midnight, a list of Enzo’s remaining loyalists appeared on the screen.

“They are meeting at a warehouse near the Tiber,” Matteo said, looking at a security feed.

“How many?” I asked.

“Six,” he said. “Including Enzo’s cousin, Silvio.”

“If they realize the money is gone, they will come here,” I said.

“They won’t have the chance,” Matteo said, reaching into his jacket to check his holster.

“No,” I said, grabbing his arm. “No more shootings. If we kill them, more will come to take their place.”

Matteo frowned. “Then how do we stop them?”

“We give them the legitimate police,” I said. “The Italian authorities have been looking for Silvio for three years.”