Two weeks had passed since Pablo sent Ido to the juice section.
During those two weeks, Ido watched everything.
He did not talk much. He did not ask questions. He just saw, heard, and morized.
Pedro did not suspect him. Why would he? Ido was a hardworking worker, caused no problems, and did exactly what was asked of him with precision.
At the end of the second week, Ido ca to Pablo in his small office after the shift ended.
Pablo closed the door.
"You learned everything?"
"Yes."
"How long does the process take from start to finish?"
"Three and a half hours from the mont the rotten fruit enters until the finished cans co out."
"How many cans per day?"
"Between four hundred and five hundred cans, depending on the amount of rotten fruit coming from the lines."
"Who handles the export?"
"Pedro himself. He deals with a small shipping company. I t them twice. The company's na is 'Naraka Mariti Lines'."
Pablo wrote the na in his notebook.
"Anything strange you noticed?"
Ido thought for a second.
"Pedro works alone all the ti. He doesn't trust anyone. He locks the section on himself for hours and doesn't allow anyone to enter."
Pablo nodded.
"Enough. Return to your section tomorrow. Do not speak about this with anyone."
"I understand."
Ido left and closed the door.
Pablo sat in his office.
He now knew everything he needed about the juice section.
And the only obstacle between him and control of that section was nad Pedro.
Pedro the clean.
Pedro who did not embezzle.
Pedro who could not be bribed, threatened, or brought down with forged evidence.
Only one option remained.
---
In the evening, after Marco returned from his training, Pablo sat beside him on his bed.
He did not start speaking imdiately. He waited until Marco finished his al.
"Marco."
Marco raised his head.
"I have a task for you."
"What task?"
"Not an ordinary task."
Marco fell silent. He looked at Pablo with eyes that had beco sharper than they were months ago.
"Pedro. The juice section supervisor."
"I know him."
"He needs to disappear."
Marco did not understand at first. "Disappear? They're transferring him to another section?"
"No." Pablo said quietly. "Disappear forever."
Marco stopped moving completely.
Seconds of silence.
"You want to..."
"Yes."
Pablo did not say the word. He did not need to.
Marco looked at his hands. The hands that had destroyed sandbags, that had smashed the face of the man who struck his shoulder with a club, that had broken a club in half.
But this was different.
"Why?" Marco asked in a low voice.
"Because he is standing in my way. Because he cannot be removed by any other thod. And because you need to understand that this world is rciless."
Marco looked at Pablo.
Pablo was calm. Not angry. Not excited. Just calm. As if he was asking him to bring a box of fruit.
"How... how do I do it?"
"I will leave it to you to decide the thod that suits you. Just make sure he never returns."
Marco was silent for a long ti.
He was thinking. He wanted to feel fear. He thought he should feel fear.
But he felt nothing.
Perhaps this was what Pablo wanted.
"Alright." He said finally.
---
The next day, after Pedro's shift ended, Marco followed him.
Pedro did not know Marco personally. He had probably seen him in the corridors once or twice. Not more.
Pedro left the factory as usual, after locking himself in until late evening.
He was walking in a dark side street, as he did every day.
The sa route. The sa ti. The sa habits.
Pedro was organized. Even his route ho was organized.
This made things very easy.
Pedro did not feel Marco behind him.
He did not hear his footsteps.
Marco was very close when Pedro suddenly turned around for a reason he did not know.
He saw him.
"Who are you? What do you—"
He did not finish.
Marco's fist smashed into his face with a force Pedro had never felt in his life.
His head hit the wall behind him.
One second.
Perhaps less.
Pedro did not move again.
Blood began to seep slowly onto the stone.
Marco stood looking at the body.
He breathed with difficulty. Not from exertion. Sothing else.
He felt sothing in his stomach. Nausea. His body trembled for a mont.
He had killed a human being.
Not sandbags. Not a threat. Real killing.
He bent over and vomited on the ground.
He stood afterwards, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
He looked at the body again.
It did not move.
He was dead.
Marco breathed deeply.
Then he began to work.
---
He carried the body away from the main road.
He found a place at the back of the factory district, where no one went.
He dug a hole. Not deep enough, but sufficient.
He buried the body. Covered it with dirt and stones.
No one would find it soon.
And if soone found it, they would not know who did it.
He stood looking at the place where he had buried Pedro.
He no longer felt nauseous now.
He felt sothing else.
Emptiness.
Not the emptiness of grief. The emptiness of accomplishnt.
He had done what was asked of him.
He turned and walked.
---
He reached the room after midnight.
Pablo was sitting on his bed waiting for him.
He looked at Marco's clothes. They were clean. He had left no trace.
"Done?"
"Done."
"Did you face any problem?"
"No."
Pablo was silent.
He looked at Marco's eyes. They were different. There was sothing in them that had not existed before today.
Sothing deeper. Sothing colder.
"How did you feel?"
Marco thought for a second.
"At first... I felt nauseous. I vomited."
"That is normal."
"Afterwards... nothing. I just wanted to finish the matter and co back."
Pablo looked at him for a long ti.
"You are not the sa person who was here yesterday."
"I know."
"Are you okay with that?"
Marco thought again.
"I'm not sure. But I will not go back."
"That is enough."
Marco sat on his bed. He was silent for a few seconds.
Then he said in a slightly different voice:
"Pablo... I have a request."
"Speak."
"My family in the East Blue. My mother and my little sister. I haven't sent them money for months. I was saving... but I don't know how to get it to them safely."
He paused.
"I want to send them one hundred and fifty thousand Beli."
Pablo looked at him.
"That's all?"
"That's all I've saved. But I don't know—"
"Don't worry. I will send it to them."
Marco looked at him.
"But this is my money. I don't want—"
"I will not take anything from you. I will send it from my own money."
"Why?"
Pablo looked at him directly.
"Because you did what I asked of you. Because I want you to feel that you are not alone. And because your family from now on is my family too."
Marco was silent.
Sothing moved in his eyes. Not just gratitude. Sothing deeper.
Belonging.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank . Just be ready for what is coming."
Marco nodded.
He lay down on his bed.
That night, Marco slept without nightmares.
He did not dream of anything.
---
Three Days Later
Pedro did not co to work.
On the first day, no one noticed his absence much. His section was closed, and the workers knew he sotis locked the section on himself.
On the second day, so began to ask.
On the third day, the report went to the director.
"Pedro has not co for three days. No one knows where he is."
The director summoned Pablo.
Pablo entered his office quietly.
"Pablo, Pedro has been absent for three days. This is not like him."
"I know. I noticed as well."
"The juice section cannot remain closed. We need a quick decision."
The director looked at him.
"Pablo, you are the only one who has proven his ability to manage difficult sections. I want you to take over the juice section yourself."
Pablo paused.
This was not in his calculation.
"But who will run my original section?"
"Appoint soone you trust in your place temporarily. I will sign off on the decision."
Pablo thought for a second.
This was better than he expected.
Direct control of the juice section was faster than placing soone else in it.
"Alright. I will appoint a man nad Kavor. He has worked with for months. He knows the system and can be trusted."
"Kavor?"
"Yes. He was with on both shifts. He works diligently and does not cause problems."
The director nodded.
"Alright. Arrange your affairs and move to the juice section from tomorrow."
"I will."
Pablo left the office.
In the hallway, he smiled a very small smile that no one saw.
Pedro was dead.
And the juice section was now under his direct control.
---
That evening, Pablo summoned Kavor to his small office.
Kavor was a man in his forties, quiet, hardworking, did not ask many questions. He was among the first that Pablo had noticed in the factory.
"Kavor, you will take responsibility for my section starting tomorrow."
Kavor looked at him with surprised eyes.
"?"
"Yes. The director and I will sign the decision. You will run both shifts as I ran them. You have the freedom to change anything you see fit, provided the numbers stay the sa or rise."
Kavor paused for a mont.
"Why ?"
"Because you deserve it. And because I trust you."
Kavor nodded slowly.
"Thank you. I will not disappoint you."
"I know."
---
Then Pablo summoned Ido.
Ido entered with his usual face. No worry, no curiosity.
"Ido, you will co with to the juice section."
"As an assistant?"
"Yes. I will teach you the work thod there. You will get to know the workers. You will be my eyes there, just as you were in the beginning."
Ido understood.
"Alright."
"Tomorrow we begin."
Ido left.
---
The next morning, Pablo entered the juice section for the first ti as its supervisor.
Ido was beside him.
Pablo stood in front of the five workers who worked there. They looked at him with different eyes. So had heard of him. So had not.
"Pedro will not return. I am the new supervisor here. This is Ido, my assistant. From today, we will work differently."
He did not explain further.
He began a tour of the section, with Ido behind him.
The juicing machines. The packing line. The can storage. The storage area. Everything.
Ido was seeing with new eyes this ti.
He was no longer spying.
He was learning to manage.
Pablo stopped him at the packing line.
"Here we will make the first change. Pedro worked alone. That was a mistake. You will enter with him."
"How?"
"You will supervise the line while I review the paperwork."
Ido nodded.
Then Pablo introduced him to the workers one by one.
"This is Ido. From today, what he says is what I say."
The workers looked at the quiet young man.
They did not know how he would be.
But they would not dare to test him.
Not yet.
---
At the end of the first day, Pablo sat in the juice section office.
Pedro's old office.
He opened the drawers one by one.
He found the notebook that Ido had told him about.
A small notebook, locked with a simple lock.
He broke the lock and opened it.
Numbers.
Many numbers.
They were not embezzlent numbers.
They were personal notes about fruit quality, about suppliers, about juice export.
He was truly a clean person. Unfortunately, he stood in my way.
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