Another.
“Shell companies.”
By now he's almost pressed against the wall.
“I don't believe you.”
“That's okay. The feds do.”
I grin.
“But here's the funny part.”
His breathing quickens.
“Federal prison isn't the scariest thing about all this.”
“What?”
“See, the real boogeyman is your friend, or rather, your friends, plural.”
His eyes widen.
“What friends?”
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
“The Sarkisians.”
Now he stops breathing.
Really stops.
And suddenly I know something else.
He never understood.
He thought he was using them.
Idiot.
“You thought you were taking advantage of some foreign mobsters who didn’t know better.”
I shake my head.
“You stupid fuck. They were using you, Jonas. The whole time. Laundering their dirty money through your contracts.”
He swallows.
Hard.
“I don't?—”
“Racketeering.”
Another step.