God’s will be done.
Or maybe the devil himself.
Dominick
Within two hours the operation was shut down, the streets quiet. The ripple effect of the broadcast had far-reaching tentacles, the entire city on edge. Perhaps everyone anticipated a blood bath. One raid had occurred not long after the press conference, gathering up three of our best soldiers. The hit had been a direct warning.
The shit was coming down.
As I walked into the bar, I thought about Caroline. She was never far from my mind, even though a flag remained, churning in my gut. Another tough conversation would need to be held. Whatever she was hiding, much like that of my father, was at least a partial key to the bullshit going on. After our conversation, I’d banished her to her room. Protection? Only from my world, my ugly life. She didn’t need to hear the crap that was going down. Bruno and one other soldier were on detail protecting her, although I doubted at this point anyone would be foolish enough given the morning’s broadcast.
The call had been put out by my father to meet in the afternoon, avoiding all our usual businesses. He was as rattled as everyone else, not a good sign of things to come. Giordano Lugiano had never buckled to the Feds or any of the local police for any reason. And there had been plenty. Why now?
He’d also made a private request to me. A sit down afterwards with just the two of us. Using those words indicated the conversation had a serious overture.
I’d heard plenty over the last two months, rumors surfacing that my father was losing control, some calling for his retirement. Hell, the man was only sixty-six years old. And I sure as shit wasn’t ready to take over the kingdom. Maybe I never would be. Why the sit down?
What the gossip mill had succeeded in doing was placing a question mark over the entire regime, indicating a solid weakness. Right now, we couldn’t afford any kind of Achilles heel. I parked the Ferrari, taking mental note of anyone who might be watching. I’d seen my share of cop cars, but they were placed in idle locations.
Another warning.
Drummand and good ole Dick were enjoying their game. What they didn’t know about that game of cat and mouse was that they were the prey.
They would find out soon enough.
The location selected was nestled in the back room of a local restaurant and bar. Even the Feds had never found it, the access limited to a secret passage two buildings down. The old way of doing business, over good food and copious amounts of liquor. I marveled at my father’s reaches, the number of friends he had. If the city government wanted a war, they were about to have one. At least the owner of the place was loyal and never asked any questions, serving the hard-working community of Brooklyn for more than forty years. Danos had grown up with my father, forging a bond long before the Lugiano regime had taken over. However, Angelo had swept the joint before a single capo arrived. We could never too careful given the atmosphere.
Giordano stood in the center of the room. While the capos all had drinks in their hands, he was dry.
Another bad sign.
He also looked haggard.
He waved a single hand to stop the conversations, giving me a single glance before speaking. “You’re all aware by now of the damning press conference held this morning.”
“The asshole really thinks he can take us on?” Angelo asked.
“He’s bluffing,” another man snarked.
“Unfortunately, I’ve confirmed that the FBI is close to issuing warrants.” Giordano sighed, the age lines covering his forehead deeper in appearance than even the day before. My father was always impeccable in attire. Not today. He appeared disheveled, much more so than I’d ever seen him.
The only person he would have trusted to learn the information would have come from the district attorney, but even then, he would usually take the information with a grain of salt. I’d never trusted Clive Banyon and never would. His relationship with my father was far too convenient, but the man owed my father more than just loyalty. Even his recent reelection had been funded in part by my father’s generous contributions.
“The shipment has been shut down,” I offered.
Angelo inched closer. “The streets as well. Still looking for the drug lord trying to muscle in. Nobody’s talkin’. Nothin’.”
Giordano nodded. “Let it go for now. We lay low until the blood in the water clears. Make certain the soldiers collect like normal but alter their schedules. If there’s a single sign that anyone is a snitch, you know what to do, but make certain it doesn’t happen on our turf.”
I could tell there was absolute discomfort in the ranks. If they followed my father’s orders, additional soldiers could be caught in the warfare. While many of them understood that being pinched was a hazard of the job, a major sweep and lockup hadn’t occurred for a solid fifteen years. Our men were far too soft, at least in my opinion, easily forgetting their required loyalty.
“This is a very difficult time for us, gentlemen, and I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake here. We have a stoolie in our ranks. According to the district attorney, someone has been dumping information, mostly to the Feds. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me what we’re talking about, but it’s damning enough. We need to find this person before we worry about anything else.” Giordano allowed the order to sink in. Then he looked me directly in the eyes. “If the shit goes down, you know what to do. I have a plan, but I hope I won’t have to execute it.”
A plan. This was the first I’d heard of anything outside of the norm. “What about the bombing?” I had to ask the question.
“Let the police do their jobs. That’s what the taxpayers pay them for.” He waved his hand again, indicating the meeting was over.
And this time I noticed his hand was shaking.
While the others remained, finishing their drinks, Angelo walked closer, keeping his voice so that only I could hear. “I don’t like some shithead getting away with bombing the club. I also think we’re itching for a war we might not be able to win.”
“I understand, but you heard Don Lugiano.” I refused to go against anything my father ordered.
He lifted an eyebrow. He’d known me long enough to realize that I usually argued the various points with my father. Not this time. Giordano was correct. There was too much at stake. “Anything else?”
“Sweep the streets again. Someone is talking.”
Angelo snorted. “And I have a feeling I know exactly who it is.” He shot a look across the remaining soldiers, taking a deep breath.
“If you’re right, bring the fucker to me.”
“Will do.”
My father eased into one of the chairs, looking completely defeated.
I waited, finally grabbing two drinks. At least as I approached the table, the other capos left, giving their signs of respect. I slid a scotch in his direction before sitting down on the edge of the chair.
“What’s going on, Pops? Why the sit down?”