Most of the important people are already in the large office when I arrive. I take quick note of everyone as I sit on a small, uncomfortable couch. There are three people I haven’t met before—two men and one woman—but the rest of the faces are familiar.
Rinaldo gives me a nod and starts talking business. There are two large shipments arriving on Tuesday, and everyone has his or her part to play. Rinaldo’s even incorporating a few people from a recently disbanded mob family—that of Gavino Greco. He came out a loser in the death-match tournament I’d participated in as a means to end the mafia wars in Chicago.
Greco is now out of the picture altogether—shipped back to Sicily and probably hiding out, waiting for an assassin to show up at his doorstep. No one has approached me for the job though I’d do it gladly. Greco and his people had caused me more than enough headaches in the past.
Greco’s demise has left only the Russians in the area as far as organized crime goes. They have their numbers, but they’ve been good about sticking to their own side of town. There have been some rumblings of gangs from Auburn Gresham on the far south side of Chicago—something about heroin distribution—but otherwise, things have been quiet.
“This is the biggest one we’ve had in months, so no fuckups.”
I’m only half listening to Rinaldo. He’s going over gun shipments and acquisition strategies, not killing, so I don’t need all the details. Other members of his crew are listening intently to his words, but I watch them instead.
To my left is Jonathan Ferris. He’s a hacking genius, able to bust into any computer system on the planet, as far as I know. Jonathan introduced me to Rinaldo Moretti years ago, and I have been his key hit man ever since. Some might think that’s a bad thing, but I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now if Jonathan hadn’t brought me to Chicago. He falls into a very small category of people I can trust.
Jonathan’s a pretty carefree guy. He doesn’t take himself or even this business too seriously and prefers to just tinker around with his computers and other electronic devices. That’s what he’s doing now. He’s got a cell phone opened up, and he’s poking around at the insides. I have no idea what he hopes to accomplish, but it’s probably related to Rinaldo’s defense plan for an upcoming ship
ment.
On the other side of Jonathan is Nick Wolfe, Rinaldo’s illegitimate son. As much as I might like to hate the irresponsible pothead, I just can’t. He makes me laugh, and that’s a rare thing. He’s been trying to get his shit together, but he just isn’t cut out for this kind of life. Being born into it didn’t serve him well. He was good at being a millionaire playboy, but even that came to an end when he met Milena. Now they’re engaged, but she’s from the Russian side of the business, and we aren’t in a Shakespeare-inspired play. Though I quietly think they’re doomed, I never say anything about it. Maybe it will work out. It would be nice if someone around here got some happiness.
“Nine o’clock is the pickup time,” Rinaldo says. “I’m going to need plenty of cover, Evan.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond automatically. I’m quite familiar with the drop-off point and not concerned about the logistics. “We’ve used that spot before, but there are three places for me to set up, including one I haven’t used before. It’s tight.”
“Good.” Rinaldo nods at me before he continues.
Lucia Moretti, Rinaldo’s daughter and heir apparent, sits across from Nick and tries to focus on her father’s every word but is failing. She’s picking at the peeling nail polish on her thumb and is probably going to have a meltdown if she doesn’t get a fresh manicure soon.
Rinaldo wants her to take over the business when he retires. He’s also not sure she can handle it. I’m positive she can’t. She’s the perfect debutante if that’s what he needs, but this business requires force of hand, and Lucia has none of that. I keep waiting for Rinaldo to find the perfect match for her so he has proper support for his businesses when he retires, but Lucia remains unattached.
Beni Segreti, Rinaldo’s third or fourth cousin, I can’t remember which, stands with the two guys who are responsible for all the loading and unloading of gun shipments, leaning against the windowsill on the far side of Rinaldo’s office. Beni was big in Italy and is expected to rise quickly in the Chicago businesses. He had just come on board around the time I was leaving Chicago, presumably for good. Though I had looked him up when I got back into town, this is the first time I’ve seen him in person. He is supposed to be quite the shooter, but I will have to see him in action and make my own call on that subject. Rinaldo trusts him, and that goes a long way with me.
There are a handful of others in the room as well but very few of note—mostly couriers and backup guards.
Rinaldo speaks to the people I haven’t met before, and I make note of their names.
“Paulie, I want you near me at all times. Evan’s your backup, but I’ll need you close.”
“You should wear a vest,” Paulie says. I look at him and notice he has the same eyes as Rinaldo’s cousin and assume he’s also in the Moretti family. He could even be Beni’s brother though Paulie has at least a head on Beni in height and forty more pounds of muscle. He’s an intimidating figure physically.
“Why is that?” Rinaldo narrows his eyes a bit.
“Because I can’t be everywhere.” Paulie crosses his arms over his chest and stares right back at the boss.
“I think he’s right, sir,” I say. “It can’t hurt.”
Rinaldo eyes me for a moment before reluctantly agreeing.
“Becca is taking care of inventory,” Rinaldo says as he continues. “Cody will need copies of the lists.”
Cody’s a little guy—thin and wiry with curly blond hair—and he’s been a courier in Rinaldo’s crew for several years. I don’t know him well, but he is loyal enough. He’s in the business for the money, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. When issues arise, he always does his best to help out.
“I’ve got lists of everything coming in,” Becca says, “so if that changes, I’ll need to know immediately.”
She runs a hand through her spiky, bleached-white hair and looks back at her notebook. She’s about my age if I had to guess, and she’s dressed as if she were ready for a night out at a goth club—all black leather and lace. Paulie watches her every move out of the corner of his eye. He probably thinks he’s being subtle, but she definitely knows he’s looking. She leans forward a little, causing her shirt to gap in the front and show off her cleavage.
I tune out Rinaldo’s words and go back to watching the group, trying to keep track of every detail I notice. Nick’s eyes are a little glazed over, and he’s quickly devouring a bag of trail mix, but that’s no surprise. Lucia’s trying to look interested in the discussion, but is far more interested in the phone texts she’s been receiving all morning. I haven’t been close enough to be able to see who they are from, but she has to contain her smile as she reads.
Maybe she has found a guy.