Chapter 8:The leak
1112 Words
The next morning, the office felt different.
Quieter.
Not the calm kind of quiet—but the heavy, loaded kind that presses down on the back of your neck.
Jorge noticed it immediately when he walked in. Two junior clerks glanced up from their desks, then quickly looked away. Emilio was already in his office, staring out the window with a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.
“We’ve got a problem,” Jorge said, closing the door behind him.
“I know,” Emilio replied without turning. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying the dinner in my head. How could Mendez know about the recorder? I didn’t tell anyone except you.”
Jorge didn’t flinch. “I didn’t tell anyone either. But someone close to you did. Which means…”
“…we have a leak,” Emilio finished grimly.
---
Jorge spread a set of files on the desk. “I went through everyone who had access to our strategy in the last two weeks—your assistants, site managers, suppliers, even the guy who makes the coffee. I’ve narrowed it to four possible suspects.”
Emilio turned from the window. “Four? Out of everyone?”
“Most of the others either don’t have access to sensitive information or don’t have any contact with the Ministry. These four do.”
He tapped the first file. “Luis Calderón, your procurement officer. Know all your suppliers. If Mendez wanted to cut off your resources, Luis is the easiest channel.”
The second file. “Maria Esteban, your administrative assistant. She handles your emails, your calls—she even knows your calendar down to the hour.”
The third. “Ricardo Navarro, your project site foreman. Good worker, but his brother is in debt to some shady lenders. That kind of thing makes a man vulnerable.”
And finally, the fourth. Jorge paused before speaking the name. “Cynthia Rodriguez.”
---
Emilio’s face hardened instantly. “My wife? Jorge, no. Absolutely not.”
“I’m not saying she’s guilty,” Jorge said evenly. “But Mendez tried to corner her once before. If he’s still trying to manipulate her—or worse, threaten her—she could have been forced to say something without realizing the consequences.”
Emilio shook his head. “Cynthia would never betray me.”
Jorge closed the file slowly. “I hope you’re right. But hope doesn’t win hearings.”
---
Over the next two days, Jorge conducted quiet interviews under the guise of “routine checks” for the upcoming hearing. Luis insisted he hadn’t spoken to anyone from the Ministry, but his nervous fidgeting told Jorge he was hiding something. Maria seemed calm, even offended at the suggestion she might have mishandled confidential details. Ricardo was defensive, accusing Jorge of wasting time while “the real enemy” was walking free.
Cynthia was different. When Jorge visited the Rodriguez home, she greeted him politely but seemed tense, her hands clasped too tightly in front of her. Emilio wasn’t home—he was out trying to secure a replacement supplier—and Jorge took the opportunity to probe.
“Has anyone from the Ministry tried to contact you lately?” Jorge asked.
Her answer was quick. “No.”
“Not even unofficially? No friends of friends?”
She hesitated just long enough for Jorge to notice. “No one,” she repeated.
---
That evening, Jorge sat in his car outside Emilio’s office, reviewing his notes. Something about Cynthia’s reaction gnawed at him. Not enough to accuse her outright, but enough to raise a question he didn’t want to answer yet.
Emilio arrived minutes later, tossing his briefcase onto his desk. “Got a new supplier. Costs more, but at least it keeps the project moving.”
“That’s good,” Jorge said, though his tone carried little enthusiasm.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve eliminated Luis and Ricardo. Maria’s still possible, but my gut says no. That leaves…”
Emilio’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t say it.”
“Emilio—”
“Don’t.”
They stared at each other for a long moment before Emilio looked away. “If you accuse her without proof, you’ll lose me as a client.”
Jorge nodded slowly. “Then I’ll get proof.”
---
The proof came sooner than expected.
Two nights later, Jorge received an anonymous tip. The message was short:
> If you want your leak, check the Hotel San Felipe. Room 312. Tonight.
Jorge’s instincts screamed a trap, but he couldn’t ignore it. He called Emilio.
“I need you to trust me,” Jorge said. “Don’t ask questions. Just meet me at the San Felipe in an hour.”
When Emilio arrived, they took the elevator to the third floor. Jorge led the way to Room 312, stopping just before the door. Voices could be heard inside—one of them unmistakably Mendez’s.
Emilio’s breath caught.
The second voice was softer, hesitant. Female.
Cynthia.
---
Jorge pulled Emilio back before he could storm in. “We need to hear what they’re saying first.”
Through the thin hotel door, Cynthia’s words came clear: “…I’ve told you everything I know. I can’t keep doing this. He’s starting to suspect.”
Mendez’s tone was oily, mocking. “You’ve done well so far. One more push, and Rodriguez will be finished. Then… we can revisit our little arrangement.”
Emilio’s fists clenched so hard Jorge thought his knuckles might split.
They stayed long enough to catch one last exchange—Cynthia asking, almost pleading, “You’ll leave him alone after this?”—before Jorge quietly pulled him away.
---
Back in the car, Emilio stared out the windshield, silent.
“You needed proof,” Jorge said quietly. “Now you have it.”
Emilio swallowed hard. “She wasn’t doing it for money. She thinks she’s protecting me.”
“Protecting you by giving Mendez exactly what he needs to destroy you?” Jorge shook his head. “You can’t let emotions cloud the case. We need to cut her off from any more information. Tonight.”
Emilio didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken. “Do it.”
---
The next morning, Maria took over all of Cynthia’s previous administrative access—emails, schedules, calls. Cynthia was told, gently but firmly, that she was to have no involvement with the case.
The leak was plugged. But Emilio knew the damage was already done. Whatever Mendez had learned from Cynthia was already in play.
And in four days, the hearing would begin.
- Writer
