Page 110
Story: Code Name: Typhon
I chuckled. “Do not tempt me.” I cleared my throat. “Remember, should you need anything and are unable to reach me, Hornet is staying at my place. He’s only a few minutes from where you are.”
“He’s hardly a few minutes. I saw him earlier when I went for a walk.”
I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps I should reconsider his job with the unit if he’s so easily spotted,” I muttered.
“I’m happy to know he’s close by, Levi. Oh, and I’ve just had a thought. Maybe I’ll see if Kima would like to come to the city for dinner tonight.”
“Brats, both of you,” I mumbled, and she giggled; a sound I adored. “I love you, Eliza Marras.”
“I love you, husband.”
We made good use of our time on the flight to Tropea. Brand briefed us on his previous dealings with the Sicilian syndicate as well as recounted what had happened with the Calabrians.
While he talked, I thought through Nemesis’ plan for this mission versus my own.
Her goal was for Brand to return to the job he’d done for them before he went to prison. Once ensconced, his objectives were to gather as much dirt as he could on the Sicilians. Then, he and I would take what he’d learned to Don Scaglione. That he’d so recently requested I look into whether or not his rivals were serious players in taking over AMPS’ territories worked greatly in our favor. While Brand did his side of it, I’d lay the groundwork with Valerio, suggesting I’d had a change of heart. The other thing I planned to do was inform him I would no longer be available for contract hits, that I was, in essence, retiring.
“My expectation when you have the goods on their rivals is Prince will do everything he can to get you to make rain for them,” I said when Brand finished talking.
He turned toward the window and appeared lost in thought for several minutes.
“Gentlemen, please excuse us,” I said to Tank and Blackjack, motioning them to the rear of the plane. “Second thoughts?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“How would you put it?”
Brand sighed. “The stakes are higher. Five years ago, I didn’t give a shit what happened to myself or anyone else.”
“Now, there’s Penelope,” I prompted.
“Not just her. I want a different kind of life, but I find myself about to walk straight back into my old way of living. Except now, as I said, the stakes are higher. If Battaglia gets wind of who I am, I’m a dead man.”
“I won’t allow that to happen. Why do you think I stepped in?”
“I have no bloody idea,” he muttered.
“There is a fuck of a lot at stake here, Ripa. Your role amounts to a flea on a dog. If that flea messes up, the ramifications are farther reaching than you can imagine. I will not let you fail. I will not allow it.”
“Why risk it?” he asked.
It was a good question. While I’d questioned Nemesis’ wisdom in mounting this mission, I was starting to see it in a different light.
“Time,” I said. “We need to escalate the war between the syndicates. Once their focus is on each other, they can either take each other out, or we can move in and finish them.” There was one more question I needed to ask, and if I didn’t feel confident in Brand’s answer, I’d kill this mission, turn around, and go home. “Can you come through for us, Brand?”
He thought about his response for quite a while, but when he raised his head, squared his shoulders, and said he could, I believed him. The more important thing was that he believed in himself.
When we exited the aircraft, there was a man I didn’t recognize waiting on the tarmac. However, Brand did, and it raised my fucking hackles.
“Welcome home,” he said, approaching us.
“Maximo, it’s great to see you,” said Brand. “This is an associate of mine, Benito Carpinelli.”
While the two chatted, I studied him. I’d lay odds he was with one of the smaller crime families. He wasn’t polished enough to be part of either of the biggest and most powerful syndicates.
I motioned to Tank, who nodded. He knew I wanted photos, and he got them—another indication he was too stupid to have the power he wanted us to think he had.
“I look forward to continuing our escapades. Perhaps Benito would like to join us?” I heard the sloppy arsehole say.
“He’s hardly a few minutes. I saw him earlier when I went for a walk.”
I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps I should reconsider his job with the unit if he’s so easily spotted,” I muttered.
“I’m happy to know he’s close by, Levi. Oh, and I’ve just had a thought. Maybe I’ll see if Kima would like to come to the city for dinner tonight.”
“Brats, both of you,” I mumbled, and she giggled; a sound I adored. “I love you, Eliza Marras.”
“I love you, husband.”
We made good use of our time on the flight to Tropea. Brand briefed us on his previous dealings with the Sicilian syndicate as well as recounted what had happened with the Calabrians.
While he talked, I thought through Nemesis’ plan for this mission versus my own.
Her goal was for Brand to return to the job he’d done for them before he went to prison. Once ensconced, his objectives were to gather as much dirt as he could on the Sicilians. Then, he and I would take what he’d learned to Don Scaglione. That he’d so recently requested I look into whether or not his rivals were serious players in taking over AMPS’ territories worked greatly in our favor. While Brand did his side of it, I’d lay the groundwork with Valerio, suggesting I’d had a change of heart. The other thing I planned to do was inform him I would no longer be available for contract hits, that I was, in essence, retiring.
“My expectation when you have the goods on their rivals is Prince will do everything he can to get you to make rain for them,” I said when Brand finished talking.
He turned toward the window and appeared lost in thought for several minutes.
“Gentlemen, please excuse us,” I said to Tank and Blackjack, motioning them to the rear of the plane. “Second thoughts?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“How would you put it?”
Brand sighed. “The stakes are higher. Five years ago, I didn’t give a shit what happened to myself or anyone else.”
“Now, there’s Penelope,” I prompted.
“Not just her. I want a different kind of life, but I find myself about to walk straight back into my old way of living. Except now, as I said, the stakes are higher. If Battaglia gets wind of who I am, I’m a dead man.”
“I won’t allow that to happen. Why do you think I stepped in?”
“I have no bloody idea,” he muttered.
“There is a fuck of a lot at stake here, Ripa. Your role amounts to a flea on a dog. If that flea messes up, the ramifications are farther reaching than you can imagine. I will not let you fail. I will not allow it.”
“Why risk it?” he asked.
It was a good question. While I’d questioned Nemesis’ wisdom in mounting this mission, I was starting to see it in a different light.
“Time,” I said. “We need to escalate the war between the syndicates. Once their focus is on each other, they can either take each other out, or we can move in and finish them.” There was one more question I needed to ask, and if I didn’t feel confident in Brand’s answer, I’d kill this mission, turn around, and go home. “Can you come through for us, Brand?”
He thought about his response for quite a while, but when he raised his head, squared his shoulders, and said he could, I believed him. The more important thing was that he believed in himself.
When we exited the aircraft, there was a man I didn’t recognize waiting on the tarmac. However, Brand did, and it raised my fucking hackles.
“Welcome home,” he said, approaching us.
“Maximo, it’s great to see you,” said Brand. “This is an associate of mine, Benito Carpinelli.”
While the two chatted, I studied him. I’d lay odds he was with one of the smaller crime families. He wasn’t polished enough to be part of either of the biggest and most powerful syndicates.
I motioned to Tank, who nodded. He knew I wanted photos, and he got them—another indication he was too stupid to have the power he wanted us to think he had.
“I look forward to continuing our escapades. Perhaps Benito would like to join us?” I heard the sloppy arsehole say.
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