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I tap the screen on the dash and call Lev.
He answers on the third ring, voice lazy. “You know it’s Friday, right? I was two seconds from—”
“We’ve not built what we have by enjoying Friday nights,” I cut in, tone clipped.
He groans. “You always know how to kill a good mood.”
“I’ve handled the Feds. Shipment’s on its way. Our guy at customs ran the decoy play, and they took the bait.”
“Smooth.”
“But there’s a but,” Lev says, already sobering.
“There’s a leak,” I say. “High up but sloppy.”
I switch lanes without signaling, weaving through two slow trucks.
“I want you sniffing it out,” I continue. “Start with the port. Then trace back to our vendors, handlers, customs staff. Anyone with access to shipment manifests. If they so much as blinked funny this week, we’d need to know why.”
Lev exhales. “You know how to make a guy feel special.”
I say nothing. Just press harder on the gas.
Lev gets serious again. “You thinking it’s one of ours?”
I pause.
It’s not hesitation; rather, it’s calculation because I don’t like speaking out of turn.
“Can’t be too sure at the moment,” I say finally. “But it has to be someone who knew the schedule and the load. The leak wasn’t random.”
Lev hums. “Maybe Thiago?”
The name slices through the night air like a hidden blade.
Lev continues, voice casual, but the edge is there. “He gave us that route, didn’t he? This passageway through Balboa? Maybe he’s pissed we’re still profiting from it without the golden handshake of family bonding.”
“It’s been four years,” I mutter, jaw tightening.
“Exactly,” Lev says. “The grudge would be nice and ripe by now.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. The city lights flicker in the distance, low and hazy against the dark.
“You think the old bastard’s still pissed?” Lev asks.
I take a beat before answering.
“We both know grudges don’t age,” I say. “They ferment.”
A long silence hums between us.
Then Lev exhales. “You want me to include Delgado’s people in the sweep?”
“No,” I say. “Not directly. Start with our side. Suppliers. Dock workers. Contractors. I want it clean, quiet. If you find nothing, then we expand.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll send a list of names. Check port records and surveillance logs. Don’t just look for who accessed them—look for who didn’t. The quiet ones are always the rot.”