Carlos�s head tilted the faintest movement, and then a slow, deliberate shake, Disapproval, pure dissatisfaction.
�This won�t do, Lesley,� he said, his voice cutting through the space like a blade�not aimed at McBride, but at La Roca himself. The shift was deliberate, stripping McBride from the equation as though his answer had been nothing more than background noise.
�We need to move more than that,� Carlos continued, each word landing like a weight on polished stone. �Otherwise, we�ll be sitting on a mountain of cash�and that, gentlemen, is a liability we cannot afford.�
�True, sir,� Lesley replied, his tone steady, but edged with the caution of a man navigating glass. �The problem stems from the elimination of Mr. De Lange. His absence has created a gap we�re still trying to close. Until we identify a suitable replacement, his companies are off the table. They can�t be used to cycle our operations.�
He paused, letting the truth settle between them like an unwelcome guest. �That�s the bottleneck we�re facing right now.�
�I understand,� Carlos said at last, the words releasing on a slow exhale as if Lesley�s explanation had settled the matter�for now. His posture softened, but only slightly, like a predator easing its claws without losing the hunt.
�Quinton was a disappointment,� he continued, his tone flat, almost conversational, though the absence of remorse made it colder than rage. �Make sure his replacement is thoroughly vetted. No more mistakes.�
The name struck McBride like a blunt force to the chest: Quinton. The sound of it dragged old memories from the dark�schoolyards, dusty parks, afternoons that smelled of sun and mischief. They�d never been close, not then, but time has a way of reshaping bonds. Years later, when the syndicate needed men with established fronts�businessmen who could launder rivers into streams�McBride had thought of Quinton.
His company was floundering. The cracks showed in his suits, in his strained smiles at charity dinners. McBride had seen the desperation and slid the offer across the table like a lifeline. Quinton took it, and for a while, he swam. More than that�he thrived.