I send a quick text and a photo of the car to Matteo, my cousin, just to give him more time to prepare the instruments. He’s in charge of distributing the tasks between our workers, and I don’t want to bother Riccardo with today’s events. At least, not yet. For now, I want to focus on looking for any traces of these goddamn Mexicans.
You see, they’ve been sneaking through our borders all too often lately, and I don’t think it’s just a coincidence. The patrols always say that they don’t see any cars passing into our zone, and if they care about their lives they wouldn’t lie about something so important. This leaves me with the only explanation-there is a hole in our security, and the sooner we find it, the better.
“Sir?”
It doesn’t take long to find one of our men near the border. I know the spots where they usually spend their watches-after all, I had to go through the same training to climb to a higher position in the family. These days, I focus my attention on more important tasks than spending hours at observation points and inspecting every unusual car crossing the border.
“At ease, boy.” I pat the young man on the shoulder and give him a chuckle, trying to remember his name. Adrian, maybe? I’ve seen the guy a few times before, but he’s still only a recruit, and I notice how he keeps his back straight, trying to look confident in my presence.
Does he want to impress me? I smirk and look away, shaking my head. New guys are always so easy to spot.
“Have you seen anything interesting today?”
“I saw your race with the Mexicans, sir.” Adrian turns to me, and I see a glint of awe in his wide eyes. “It was so cool!”
Cool, huh? I huff under my breath and glance at him. God, how old is he? Probably seventeen. That’s when they get old enough to run away from home, realize how harsh the world is, and come to our doorstep, begging us to accept them. If they pass Matteo’s screening, they take the lowest place in the clan and slowly make their way up, although they never get as high as the blood relatives of the Messina family.
Anyway, I’m allowing my thoughts to run too far from the conversation.
“Thanks, but did you see them crossing the border?”
Adrian straightens his shoulders and purses his lips. “No, sir. I would immediately report it if I saw something suspicious.”
“Alright, good.” That gives me nothing, though. “Have you seen anyone else today?”
He hums and frowns in deep thought. “Yes, I’ve seen a few
Russians walking around, but they kept their distance. Ah, and Don
Riccardo crossed the border a few hours ago, but he’s already returned.”
Riccardo has been out and about? I hum and look away, trying not to show my confusion. That’s interesting. He rarely leaves the safety of our territory unless it’s something important-being the head of our family makes him the most valuable target for everyone around. Could something have happened?
I shake my head. It’s none of my business, really. Whatever it is, I’m sure Riccardo will tell me later-for now, I have to focus on my own agenda.
“Okay. Good job. Let me know if you see anything weird.” I nod at Adrian and turn away when I hear him let out a hesitant noise.
“Uh, sir?” I turn around. Adrian frowns, clearly doubting his decision to speak up, and I quirk my eyebrow in a silent question. Whatever it is, he has to hurry up. “I don’t know if it’s important, but I saw a girl today.”
Oh, a girl? I huff under my breath. “Good for you.”
I’m not gonna give him relationship advice, but before I turn away, Adrian waves a hand and rushes to explain, “No, I mean-I’ve seen her a few times over the last couple of weeks. She never tries to cross the border, so I haven’t reported her, but…I don’t know, isn’t it weird that she shows up here?”
I frown and turn to face him properly. “What does she do?”
“Oh, not much. She just hangs around for a bit before walking or driving away.” He visibly deflates, probably cursing himself for speaking about it. “Maybe she’s just working somewhere near here, I don’t know.”
“Then you would see her every day,” I say more to myself than to him and hum. This information may be important, actually. “Does she look
Hispanic?”
Adrian clears his throat. “No, actually…I think she looks more like a Russian.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I can’t help but close my eyes for a second to take control of the wave of frustration in my veins. If those damn freaks are planning something against us-
But I breathe out my anger and look at Adrian with a habitually cool expression under which my mind is still boiling. “Thanks, Adrian. If you see her again, let me know.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, I finally walk away, although I can barely focus on the Mexicans with Adrian’s words still ringing in my head. Another conflict with the Russian Bratva is the last damn thing we need right now. It’s been over a year since we signed the truce with our formal enemies. They can’t just break it out of nowhere, right? Not while we have Elena.
You see, the Russians had been our number one enemies for decades. The war between two of the most powerful families of Chicago was long, bloody, and merciless-until a common enemy forced us to switch attention. The Mexicans made their grand appearance on the scene of the Mafia world with the murder of Cassio Messina, Riccardo’s father and previous don of the Messina Clan.
When we found out that it was the Escarra family who was responsible for his death, Riccardo swore to take his revenge and kill every last one of the Mexicans. But it turned out to be harder than any of us had expected-mostly because the war with the Russian Bratva had been exhausting our resources for years. So, to kill two birds with one stone, Riccardo decided to form an alliance with the Russians.
Of course, that was easier said than done, and when Yuriy Pushkov, the head of the Bratva, demanded that we prove our intentions, Riccardo announced that he would marry Yuriy’s niece, Elena Pushkova. I didn’t think it was a good idea as I knew that the two of them had been rivals in high school-but it worked out quite well.
Yes, it took some time for Elena and Riccardo to find their way around each other. After all, Elena had spent eight years hiding from her family and raising Riccardo’s son in secret, so they had quite a few things to resolve. But now they are obnoxiously in love, and Elena is even carrying his second child. What a sweet story that leaves everyone happy, huh?
Only it isn’t. Because the Russians have been not been very good at keeping their promises.
They helped us once, okay, but it was because Elena and her son were in danger. The Bratva showed up in the middle of our fight with the Mexicans and saved the day-but that was the only time they were actually helpful. But ever since that day, the Russians have been quiet about their part of the deal.
The Bratva is supposed to help us deal with the Mexicans and avenge Cassio, but it looks like they don’t give a shit. Well, at least they don’t try to kill our men, steal our territories, and take over the crown of Chicago, so thanks for that. Although with this new piece of information from Adrian, I can’t be sure anymore.
After the Mexicans’ blatant betrayal, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a Russian knife in our back. But it’s too early to think about it. One recruit being weirded out by a girl’s behavior isn’t enough of a reason to switch our attention from the Mexicans.
I spend the next couple of hours driving from one observation point to the other, checking other guards and asking about the Mexican car. Everyone says they’ve seen nothing, and it starts to piss me off. It’s impossible for the goddamn car to appear out of nowhere, right? They had to have crossed the border somewhere!
The sun is already setting when I reach the southern part of our border with Bridgeview and slow down on the road near the stadium. It’s quiet, and the parking lot is empty save for a couple of cars, so I guess there’s no soccer practice today. I see the invisible border of Bridgeview where it meets Bedford Park, and that’s where the thought strikes me.
Bedford Park mostly consists of railroads and heavy industrial buildings that no one in the Mafia world is truly interested in. It’s considered a neutral territory and a good place for doing business. Plenty of deals have been stricken here, among the industrial rails, crumbling buildings, and never-ending hum of factories.
Wouldn’t it be a perfect place for crossing our borders away from unwanted eyes? Especially as we don’t have anyone to keep an eye on the ramp leading off Harlem Avenue-where it makes a loop and leads straight into our territory.
Bedford Park is considered a calm enough place that we don’t expect guests from there, and that’s exactly why the Mexicans would use it! God, how could I not see it earlier?
I feel a rush of adrenaline and excitement as I park a dozen feet away from the bridge. The hum and vibrations of the cars driving through Harlem Avenue fill my ears as soon as I get out, but I barely pay attention to the sounds. What’s important right now is to find out if my theory is correct-and my heart picks up its pace when I see evidence just a couple of minutes later.
Even in the growing twilight, I notice a couple of gravel paths wide enough for a car to weave along and over the rails, and one of them leads straight to the road. You wouldn’t see them on the map, and no one in my family cares enough to remember that they exist. It’s damn brilliant!
I’m sure it’s not gonna stop the Mexicans from sneaking into our territory any chance they have, but at least we’ll be ready to catch them here. All I need is to let Riccardo know, so I reach for my phone.
The bright screen blinds me in the darkness, but before I clear my vision I catch the sound of steps behind me-and the next moment I feel a cold touch of metal on my neck. Shit. Is that a gun?