Page 19 of Shadow Waltz
“To profitable partnerships,” Adrian said when I handed him his glass, raising it in a toast that carried layers of meaning beyond the simple words.
We drank, and the silence that followed was comfortable rather than tense—the easy quiet of predators who'd established mutual respect through years of successful cooperation. Butunderneath the professional courtesy, I could feel the weight of unspoken questions and carefully managed tensions that came with conducting business at our level.
“Your message mentioned expansion opportunities,” Adrian said, setting his glass aside and focusing the full weight of his attention on me. “Something about securing assets in a changing market.”
I activated the wall display, filling the largest monitor with a map of New York that showed territories, revenue streams, and the complex web of relationships that kept my organization profitable. Red zones indicated areas under my direct control, yellow showed contested territories, and green marked opportunities for expansion that required more resources than I currently possessed.
“Three major developments,” I began, using a remote to highlight specific areas of the map. “First, the Kozlov brothers are consolidating their operations and looking to sell their Manhattan holdings. Second, federal pressure on the Italian families has created power vacuums in Brooklyn and Queens. Third, new legislation is making certain types of transactions more profitable for organizations with international connections.”
Adrian leaned forward, his mismatched eyes studying the display with the intensity of a general planning a campaign. “The Kozlovs have been operating in New York for fifteen years. Why sell now?”
“Age, politics, and the fact that their sons are more interested in legitimate business than continuing the family tradition,” I replied, switching the display to show financial projections and risk assessments. “They're looking for an exit strategy that lets them retire wealthy rather than dying violently.”
“And you see this as an opportunity for joint acquisition,” Noah observed, his voice carrying the kind of analytical claritythat came from years of making life-or-death decisions under pressure. “Pool resources, split territories, minimize individual risk while maximizing returns.”
The fact that Noah understood the strategic implications without explanation confirmed what I'd suspected about his role in Adrian's organization. He might present himself as a civilian, but no one survived marriage to someone like Adrian without developing sophisticated understanding of criminal enterprise and international politics.
“Exactly,” I confirmed, pulling up detailed breakdowns of potential profits and territorial divisions. “Your organization provides capital and European connections, mine handles local implementation and political management. We split the revenue seventy-thirty, with percentages adjusted based on actual contribution to each acquisition.”
Adrian studied the projections with the kind of careful attention that had kept him alive through a dozen gang wars and twice as many assassination attempts. His scarred fingers traced patterns on the armrest that might have been random or might have been some kind of tactical calculation, a nervous habit I'd noticed during previous negotiations.
“What about federal attention?” he asked. “Expanding this aggressively will attract notice from agencies we'd prefer to avoid.”
“Already handled,” I replied, switching to displays that showed political connections and influence networks spanning law enforcement, judiciary, and legislative branches. “I've got people in place who ensure that investigations focus on our competitors rather than our operations. The key is making ourselves indispensable to the right politicians while remaining invisible to everyone else.”
Noah's expression shifted slightly, a micro-expression that suggested concern or possibly moral conflict. His backgroundin trauma medicine probably gave him perspectives on our business that most people in our position preferred to avoid, but he'd learned to navigate the contradiction between his husband's world and his own professional ethics.
“Timeline?” Adrian asked, though his tone suggested he was already mentally committing to the partnership.
“The Kozlovs want to finalize their exit within six months, which gives us a narrow window to position ourselves as preferred buyers,” I explained, showing calendar projections and milestone markers. “Federal pressure on the Italian families is increasing monthly, so those opportunities won't last long either. Moving fast means better prices and fewer competitors.”
“And if something goes wrong?” Noah asked quietly. “If federal attention becomes federal action?”
The question carried weight beyond its simple phrasing, touching on contingencies that could mean the difference between continued prosperity and life sentences in maximum security facilities. In our business, paranoia wasn't a character flaw—it was a survival skill that separated successful organizations from cautionary tales.
“Multiple extraction protocols, untraceable financial instruments, and enough political insulation to weather most storms,” I replied, pulling up emergency procedures that looked like military evacuation plans. “Worst-case scenario, we disappear with enough assets to start over somewhere extradition-friendly.”
Adrian nodded slowly, his expression suggesting approval mixed with the kind of healthy skepticism that kept smart criminals alive longer than optimistic ones. “What do you need from us specifically?”
“Forty million in liquid assets, access to your European shipping networks, and three months of your personal attention to oversee integration,” I said, laying out requirements thatrepresented significant commitment from an organization that had its own expansion priorities. “In exchange, you get permanent footing in the most profitable criminal market on the East Coast and partnership with someone who knows every political pressure point between here and Washington.”
The silence that followed was weighted with calculation as Adrian and Noah exchanged the kind of subtle communication that came from years of partnership in situations where trust was the difference between success and catastrophe. I caught fragments of their nonverbal conversation—raised eyebrows, slight nods, the kind of intimate shorthand that spoke to complete understanding between people who'd learned to rely on each other absolutely.
Watching them communicate without words stirred that familiar ache in my chest, the recognition of something I'd convinced myself I didn't want but couldn't stop envying. They'd found a way to maintain individual strength while building something together that was stronger than either could achieve alone. In a world where emotional attachment was usually fatal, they'd managed to make love into a weapon rather than a weakness.
“We'll need detailed financials on all proposed acquisitions,” Adrian said finally, his tone indicating preliminary agreement pending due diligence. “Risk assessments, background checks on every major player, and contingency plans for scenarios ranging from market volatility to federal task force investigations.”
“Already prepared,” I replied, activating secure file transfers that would give them access to intelligence gathered over months of careful research. “Everything you need to make an informed decision, plus contacts who can verify information through independent sources.”
Noah leaned back in his chair, hazel eyes shifting toward the green end of their spectrum as late afternoon light filtered through the office windows. “This is bigger than territorial expansion,” he observed. “You're talking about fundamentally reshaping criminal enterprise in one of the world's major cities.”
The accuracy of his assessment was both impressive and slightly unsettling. Most people saw criminal organizations as simple profit-driven enterprises, but Noah understood the political and social implications of what we were proposing. Success would mean decades of influence and wealth; failure could destabilize entire networks that had taken generations to establish.
“Change is inevitable,” I replied. “The question is whether we're going to control it or let it control us.”
Adrian finished his whiskey and set the glass aside with the finality of someone reaching a decision. “We're interested. Send us everything you've got, give us a week to run our own analysis, and we'll have an answer.”
“Agreed,” I said, though something in his tone suggested the answer would be positive barring discovery of major problems we hadn't anticipated.