Nicco - Season 2

2. Out of Office

NICCO

A diversion has been set in motion.

Earlier, as I was boarding the jet, my men were instructed to contact local Spanish officials who were not already allied with the Beltráns. As a result, one of the Beltráns' yachts was seized this very morning. The yacht is estimated to be carrying €25,000 worth of cocaine and hashish. Thanks to Director-General Cortez, Juan Pablo will soon be forced to show his face to the Customs Surveillance Service, lawyer up, and worm his way out of criminal prosecution.

Another thirty minutes go by before Monte calls me with an update, "Juan Pablo is meeting with Spanish authorities."

This means the fucker has officially been lured away from his lair.

"Send in our men," I order.

"Understood."

We must move fast during Juan Pablo's absence. Every floor and every room of his family's villa must be ransacked for shit that can be used against them. A while later, Monte calls with another development. It is good news. Our efforts were not in vain, and I am eager to get my hands on the goods that were recovered from Juan Pablo's villa.

Despite this good news, stress and adrenaline continue to pound at my temples. I numb the migraine with a €20,000 bottle of Brunello di Montalcino. I stare outside the plane. Clouds drift by the line of small rectangular windows beside me. Far below, the waters of the Mediterranean glisten. Light reflects across an expanse of aqua-blue as waves rock in time to melodies only they can hear. Along the coast, a dense expanse of buildings, both ancient and modern, fill the cityscape.

We are six minutes away from our destination. Málaga, Spain, to be exact. The city is known for its beautiful beaches and near-endless sunshine. Feels like I should be going on vacation, but relaxation is the furthest thing from my mind. My phone begins to chime right as the aircraft dips into a gradual descent. Frowning, I check the caller ID.

Merda.

Aria is calling me again.

***

ARIA

The line continues to ring. Anxiously, I wait for Nicco to pick up.

Why the fuck is he ignoring me?

Our department is chaotic enough even on days when we have all hands on deck. Without Nicco here to call the shots, I've become everyone's go-to girl to bitch and moan at every time a new dumpster fire rears its ugly head.

Hedge fund momentum has dropped by 1.4% this month?

Let's call Aria.

Clients are pissed that they're not making enough money?

Aria, do something.

It's not like I have the authority to solve these problems. My head's about to explode. I guess, through all the madness, there's been one silver lining to Nicco's absence. Right before noon, I was able to log into his account on my old laptop—you know, the one that's supposedly missing—and finish signing the last of the documents for the Gravinski account. I know there will be hell to pay once Nicco finds out what I've done. He'll question my loyalty and judgment.

Thankfully, I already have a way to get myself out of hot water. Later today, as long as I can plant my laptop in Manning's London townhouse while he's away in Birmingham, several birds can be killed with one stone.

1. Win back a little of Nicco's trust.

2. Frame Manning for hacking into Nicco's managerial account.