“What’s the deal?” I ask. “The truck isn’t showing up?”
“No truck,” Jonathan says, confirming what had become obvious.
“Where is it?”
“That’s what Beni’s trying to figure out.” Jonathan tosses his cigarette and stamps it out under his heel.
“Have we heard from Cody or the other couriers?”
“Not yet. Becca’s trying to contact them.”
I head over to the Camaro, ditch the Barrett, and return to the group with the AR slung over my shoulder.
“Nice rifle,” Paulie says appreciatively. “Rock River Arms?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice scope, too.”
I nod, but don’t answer. As much as I would normally like to discuss my guns, I don’t like how this delivery is shaping up, and I’m agitated. Rinaldo watches our exchange with an impatient look.
“Could you see anything from up high?” he asks.
“No, sir. No sign of the truck but no sign of anyone else either.”
There’s a shed at the far side of the parking lot. It’s not particularly tall, and I would never snipe from there, but it’s a better vantage point while still close to the ground. I strap the AR over my shoulder and climb up on the dumpster beside the shed. I hoist myself to the roof where I have a good view of the streets around us, but there is very little activity.
I’m there for about fifteen minutes before Rinaldo and his crew on the ground start gathering together. I take one last look around and then climb down to join them.
“What’s the status?” I ask as I approach.
“Found the truck!” Becca tells me. “Driver’s been shot, and the cargo is gone.”
Becca’s phone bleeps, and she looks at the screen. She holds up her phone and shows us all a picture of the truck. It’s been painted with orange gang symbols all over the hood and side
s.
“Motherfuckers!” Rinaldo balls his hands into fists, and I take a step back. If he decides to hit someone, I’d rather it not be me. I’ll take it if necessary but don’t want to stand in the line of fire.
“Those are Marcello Harding’s colors,” Beni says. “Did they find anything else?”
He and Becca take a few steps away and go through the pictures as they are sent from the couriers. I keep a close eye on Rinaldo.
“Those fuckers have ended my patience,” he says with a snarl. He’s trembling a bit and turns to spit on the ground. I tense but don’t step away.
“This isn’t the first time?”
“With guns, yes. They did the same with the Russians’ heroin shipment two months ago. There are all kinds of territory wars going on with the gangs, but trying to move into my areas? I can’t stand for that, Evan. I can’t.”
Rinaldo’s face is tinged with red, and I can see the vein near his temple throbbing. He turns to me, and his eyes speak volumes.
“I got it, sir.”
He nods once, and I head over to Beni just as Cody is coming around the corner in a van. He parks and jumps out, running to Beni’s side.
“Definitely Marcello?” I ask.
Cody nods.