Page 84 of Dark Breaker

Finally, three hours after our initial conversation, Massimo calls me back.

“So, what’s the news?” I ask him, dreading the answer.

“We’re going to hold off on any attack,” he replies. “Giovanni agrees that now isn’t the time to start a war with the Tunisians. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I tell him, my voice becoming dangerous. I was right to dread the answer. “But beware. So far this alliance of convenience has benefitted nobody, except the Amatos and Morettis.”

“It’s benefited you,” he responds angrily. “You get to have my beautiful sister in your bed every night. And you get to keep your head on your shoulders.”

His words only blacken my mood. I bite back an angry response and say only: “Good-bye.”

I hang up and curse.

I sit for a moment, stewing, completely pissed off.

I get to keep my fucking head on my shoulders?

I angrily pull up the port schedule on my laptop and look up when the next Moretti shipment is due. I find it: later today at four o’clock.

I call Nicolo.

“CiaoFabio,” he greets me.

“Get in touch with one of the detectives in our pocket,” I instruct him. “I want our docks raided at four P.M.”

“Four P.M.?” Nicole asks. “Who are we sending to jail today?”

“The Morettis,” I reply.

At least one of the brothers will be there, I’m sure of it. Though who it will be is anyone’s guess. Hopefully it’s Massimo, but if not, in my current mood I’ll be happy to see any Moretti brother sent to prison.

For a moment I think of Rosa and how upset she’ll be when she finds out one of her brothers is in jail, but I angrily slam the thought aside. Her feelings mean nothing to me I tell myself. This is precisely why I don’t want to get too attached to her, in case I need to do stuff like this.

“I was wondering when you’d come around,” Nicolo says. “One port raid, coming right up.”

* * *

I’m leaningagainst my Fiat, gazing into a pair of binoculars to observe the docks of the port we own. I’ve parked on a street overlooking the port so I have a panoramic view of everything below. There are sprawling ficus trees here that provide ample cover as well, so I won’t be readily visible to any observers on the port.

I can see a Moretti brother waiting at one of the docks as a freighter finishes mooring. His name is Roberto, I believe. He’s like a leaner version of Massimo, though with black hair instead of blond. I also see Roberto’s men waiting outside their black SUVs. There are no other Moretti brothers present.

Too bad. I was hopeful we’d bag at least two. But one will suffice for my purposes.

The freighter begins unloading the cargo containers. After about half an hour, a flatbed truck carries one of the containers past customs and directly to Roberto and his men. They hop onto the bed and open up the container.

On cue, five police cruisers emerge from their hiding places behind a port warehouse. Sirens blare and lights flash.

Roberto and his men raise their hands and are quickly cuffed by the officers. The lead detective enters the cargo container with a crowbar. I know he’ll be opening up the crates inside and removing the false bottoms, as per Nicolo’s instructions. When the detective emerges with a white bag of cocaine and a triumphant smile on his face, I grin widely.

Let’s see how you like that, Massimo Moretti.

I stow my binoculars in the car and speed away.

* * *

A few hourslater I’m drinking a latte at a stand-up cafe outside one of our condo developments when my phone buzzes.

When I see who it is, I quickly finish my cafe and take the call outside.