“That’s being handled,” Antonio said.
“Was it Pierre?” Simone asked. “The gossip mill is running rampant from the tenth floor to the twentieth.”
Andrade Industries owned a building in the middle of Centro—the financial district of Rio de Janeiro. It was a twenty-story structure. The first floor had high end shops, while floors two to ten were various office spaces. The top ten floors were occupied by Anriotech, the pharmaceutical side of the business. Andrade Industries had many offices around the world, but the major ones were based in Paris, Hong Kong, Qatar, and Los Angeles. Smaller satellite offices were scattered around the world mostly in support of the numerous pharmaceutical companies and laboratories. It had taken almost eighteen years to reinvent the Andrade Organization away from its criminal past into a respectable player in the pharmaceutical industry.
“That matter is under investigation,” Antonio told her and then looked at his watch. “As a matter of fact, I’m meeting with the head of BOPE in a few minutes.” He split a look between his two department heads. “They’ll have our cooperation. We have nothing to hide and will be as transparent as possible without compromising our intellectual property.” He leaned back in his chair. “Anything else?”
“Might be a good idea to compile a shortlist of candidates to replace Pierre,” Simone said. “Or at least have someone to helm the R&D division. That would calm the board.”
Antonio thought about this for a beat. “How about Franco Moretti? He’s the brains behind ADgen anyway.” Pierre and Renata had been downplaying the head of their European lab’s role in the growth of Anriotech, but Antonio was a numbers and results guy.
Simone and Vicente looked at each other and then at him, both wearing almost identical pleased expressions.
“Simone and I talked about this before this meeting,” Vicente said. “We’re thinking Dr. Moretti too.”
Antonio stood, signaling the end of their discussion. “Good. I’ll see you both at the board meeting this Friday?”
After they acknowledged this, they both left his office.
Antonio took a deep breath and faced the window to gather his thoughts about problems coming at him from every direction. Andrade Industries wasn’t new to scandals, but Pierre Hudson’s death hit the company closer to home. Hostile takeovers of floundering companies didn’t yield friends, more like eternal enemies who want to see you rot in hell. Although character assassination by way of tabloid seemed to be more the norm, not murder.
He had little patience for greedy corporations who preyed on the weak. He felt this more than anyone else. Antonio’s mother died of sepsis during one of the great floods that swept across Rio. The SUS—Brazil’s public healthcare at that time was still in its fledgling stage. It had improved over the years, but the help for the majority wasn’t enough. It was never enough. He was a boy of eleven who tried to save his mother by trying to cross flooded roads and climbing over landslides to get to a nearby hospital with the hope they had the antibiotics. The closest health center was ill-supplied, and ambulances couldn’t cross the flooded streets.
And yet, Antonio tried. Tucking the note of the doctor securely so it wouldn’t smear or get wet, served as the courier when no one would dare the relentless deluge. He made it to the hospital and got the medicine, but he was too late when he returned. He didn’t even get to hold his mother’s hand when she took her last breath.
Antonio clenched his jaw as he stared at the streets below him. He’d come so far, made himself successful. Yet every time he thought about his mother, he would rage at the injustice of it all.
He was determined to make life-saving drugs affordable for everyone. His single-mindedness with that goal had steamrolled many companies. But he made sure each corporation he shut down or repurposed deserved it.
A message on his phone drew him out of his memories. He glanced at the screen. It was Nico’s report. He absorbed this new information and his brows shot to his hairline with its implication. He was looking forward to having a chat with Dr. Bennett.
His secretary’s voice crackled on the intercom. “Senhor? A Captain Martinez from the BOPE is here to see you.”
He pushed the button. “Show him in, Sylvia.”
Antonio turned around and faced the double-doors leading to his office. One panel opened and Martinez walked in. Together with Renata’s brother Dante, he and Martinez formed the Três Mosqueteiros as their favela crime boss “the Alligator” Jacaré called them. The three of them were his best pickpockets as well as his lookouts for the police.
Far from the young man he knew in the favela with a full head of hair and forever trying to grow a beard, Martinez now sported a close-shaved head and a clean-shaven face. The all-black uniform of the BOPE was topped with a black beret. Many civil rights advocates criticized their insignia—dagger through the skull meaning “Victory over Death” —as a sign that they execute extra-judicial killings with no oversight.
“Twice in twenty-four hours I see you,” Antonio said dryly. “Must be my lucky day.”
Martinez strode in with a scowl. Who pissed in this man’s cereal?
“Don’t be a smartass, Antonio.” The BOPE captain walked straight to his desk and flung a couple of photos on its surface.
Curious, Antonio stepped toward his desk. Seeing the pictures, he tried to keep his face as bland as possible as he glanced up at Martinez. “What’s this?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Those are boxes of your XZite pills that were found in Sousa’s apartment.”
His brows drew together. “The Corindo gang leader?”
Martinez’s mouth curled in derision. “Don’t pretend you forgot about the man whose head was blown off in front of you.”
“Just verifying,” Antonio shrugged. He was actually trying to buy time. Why would
