Dante met with Kozlov in a neutral location. A restaurant in Chicago, public enough that violence was unlikely.
I listened to the entire conversation via wire Morrison had grudgingly agreed to plant on Dante.
"You called this meeting," Kozlov said. "Make it worth my time."
"I want you to cancel the contract on Elena Russo."
"The woman who destroyed your family's empire? Why would you protect her?"
"Because I love her. And because I have information you need."
"I'm listening."
"The FBI is building a case against you. New weapons trafficking charges. They have witnesses, evidence, everything they need to put you away for twenty years."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I? How do you think I got early parole? I cooperated. Gave them names, locations, transactions. Including several that involve you."
Kozlov's voice went cold. "You're threatening me."
"I'm offering you a trade. You cancel the contract on Elena, and I make sure my testimony doesn't include anything about you. The FBI's case falls apart without my cooperation."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you go to prison for the rest of your life. Your choice."
Long silence.
Then: "You've changed, Morelli. Prison made you soft."
"Prison taught me what matters. And she matters more than anything."
Another pause. Then: "Fine. The contract is cancelled. But if she ever surfaces, if I ever see her again—"
"You won't. We're leaving the country. Starting over somewhere you'll never find us."
"Then we have a deal."
---
I listened to the entire exchange, barely breathing.
He'd done it. Traded his leverage, possibly his safety, for mine.
When the wire cut out, I called Morrison.
"Is he safe?"
"Kozlov's men are leaving. Dante's walking out now. He's safe, Elena."
I collapsed in relief.
It was over.
Finally, after all this time, it was over.