“From now on, it is too dangerous,” Black explained to her. “Ortega is a serious adversary. He has connections, money, power. If he finds out you are working for us, he might try to eliminate you.”

“But I want to see the end of this case.”

“You have already done the most important thing. You have led us to the boss. The rest is for professionals.”

Emily agreed to stay on the sidelines, but asked to be kept informed. Black promised to give her regular updates.

Three days later, Ethan’s escape was staged. During a transfer to the courthouse, the prisoner transport van had an accident. In the chaos, Ethan escaped. In reality, he was released under the control of the agents.

Ethan ran and borrowed a cell phone from a student, pretending to call an ambulance for an old man who had fallen on the corner. From memory, he dialed Ortega’s number. The agents car followed him from a distance.

“Nicholas, it is Ethan.”

“Are you crazy calling me directly?”

“I have no choice. I have escaped, but they will find me soon. I need help.”

“What help?”

“You are burned. Documents. Money. A way out of the country.”

“I have information about the investigation.”

“What information?”

“They know about you. They are looking for a certain uncle Nick. They are about to locate you.”

There was a long silence.

“Where are you now?”

“In the city with a borrowed phone. Then I will hide in the basement of an abandoned building. Vasquez Street number 15. Back basement. Wait there. In an hour, someone will come for you.”

The call was cut off.

Ethan returned the phone to the surprise student and headed to the indicated location, followed by the agents.

An hour later, a black Audi with tinted windows arrived at the building. Two men in leather jackets got out and entered the basement.

“Ethan,” one of them shouted.

“I am here,” Ethan replied from the darkness.

“Let’s go. The boss is waiting for you.”

They put Ethan in the car and took him away. Three teams followed them, alternating cars and motorcycles. They could not lose the target.

The Audi stopped near a luxury restaurant, the Monarch on the Gold Coast. They took Ethan through the back entrance to a private office on the second floor.

Behind a large desk sat Nicholas Ortega, a man in his 60s with gray hair and a cold gaze. Beside him, two bodyguards.

“Well, well, Ethan,” Ortega said with irritation. “What a mess you have made.”