“And I will be the civic leader who helped save these children from a cartel.”

My phone vibrated again.

One long, sharp buzz.

It was the confirmation.

Luca had successfully patched my phone’s microphone into the yacht’s satellite transmitter.

The transmitter was currently linked to the high-bandwidth broadcast frequency used by the local affiliates.

Anything said in this room was being recorded on the server.

But it wasn’t live yet.

I needed him to say more.

I needed the names.

“Who is helping you with this, Everett?” I asked.

I used his first name to rub against his pride.

“Vance is just a regional director.”

“He doesn’t have the power to clear a cargo ship through the federal locks.”

Kane’s jaw tightened.

“You think you can understand the scale of this?” he asked.

“This is not a street gang, Dante.”

“This is a syndicate.”

“We have judges in the circuit court.”

“We have representatives in Springfield.”

“Even the port authority looks the other way because my foundation funds their charity galas.”

He took a step toward me, his leather shoes squeaking on the wood floor.