Dinner on Friday

20. Dante

WEAKNESS

Days went by and Annabella never called. It was about time I tracked her down.

I knew the day-to-day operations of the Galician clan by heart, and knowing my sister, changing the schedule of how and when the drugs were imported from Columbia was at the bottom of her priority list. It was this knowledge that led me here, to this hidden dock, in search of my sister.

Over two hundred years ago, the clan was founded by humble fishermen using the Galician Sea to smuggle illegal goods. Although times have changed, the essence of the clan's operations had remained the same.

I stood outside the weathered dock belonging to the large glass villa perched on the hill for all transparency. Unknown to the rest of the world, using a secret cave entry down at the beach, the smugglers would find their way to the belly of the villa where the drugs were then cut, packaged, and then shipped to all four corners of Europe, Amsterdam being our main depot.

The villa was a facade of modern richness. The family who we paid to live there was clueless about the millions of euros in cocaine lounging two levels below their basement.

The sound of crashing waves and the salty breeze mingled with the tension in the air as I made my way toward the secret cave entrance.

Using the cloak of the evening moon, I moved through the shadows, my steps silent and calculated. As I closed in on the entrance of the secret cave, my senses heightened, preparing for the encounter with the guards that were always present after the arrival of a shipment.

The first guard stood just a few meters away, oblivious to my presence in the darkness. My hand slowly reached into my jacket pocket, and the familiar weight of the silencer reassured me. With a quick twist, I clipped it to the barrel of my gun.

Taking a deep breath, I closed the distance between the unsuspecting guard and myself. I moved swiftly, every step practically soundless.

Before the guard had a chance to react, my arm shot out, wrapping around his throat in a vice-like grip. The guard's eyes widened in panic, and any sound he attempted to make was muffled by the firm grip of my hand.

In one quick motion, I twisted the guard's neck, ending his life. I lowered the lifeless body to the ground, my expression impassive. There was no room for sentimentality in this world of shadows and deceit.

Entering the cave, I encountered two more guards. They chatted quietly, unaware of the danger lurking behind them before separating. I crouched low, my body melding with the darkness, my eyes focused on my targets.

With care, I positioned myself behind the first guard, my hand resting gently on his shoulder. I lifted the gun to the guard's temple, the muzzle pressing against his warm flesh. He stiffened and I pressed the gun harder against his brain.

"Not a sound," I warned, my voice cutting through the silence with a lethal edge.

The guard nodded frantically, his eyes darting around in panic. Keeping a firm grip on the .22, I pulled the trigger. There was a muffled pop before his body slumped to the ground, life extinguished in an instant like a match struck against a gusty wind.

The remaining guard turned towards the sound, confusion etched across his face. Before he could react, I sprang into action, closing the distance between us with blinding speed.

My hand clamped over the guard's mouth, stifling any cries for help. With my other hand, I delivered a strike to the guard's throat, cutting off his air supply. The guard stared in front of him in shock, his body convulsing as he fought for breath. Time seemed to stand still as the guard's struggle grew weaker, his body finally falling limp in my grasp. When he finally stopped moving, I allowed his lifeless body to crumple to the ground.