"If I had had the Morettis' reach, Frank would still be alive. The badge alone was not enough."
Matteo does not answer.
The answer is yes.
He starts the engine.
"Brooklyn."
The first placeis a nightclub in Sunset Park.
Crane laundering point. A man named Dimitri was in the back office, moving Stavros’ money through the club for six years. We go in through the back.
Dimitri is eating pistachios when Matteo closes the office door behind us.
The next thirty minutes are the kind I would have arrested another man for.
I do not arrest anyone.
The badge has been the cover.
Matteo watches me do it.
The Ranger reads the SEAL when it is done. The SEAL nods once.
Dimitri gives us an address in Red Hook.
The shipping officeis on a pier two blocks from the freighter.
A man named Pavlos. Eleven years running Crane's Red Hook logistics. Harder than Dimitri. A 9-millimeter under the desk, a knife in his boot, a panic button under the rim that he has tested every Wednesday at this hour for eleven years.
Matteo cuts the wire. I take the gun and put it on the desk between us.
"Pavlos."
"Donovan."
He knows my name. Crane has briefed him. He knows I am the cop who is the Morettis’ brother.
That is going to be interesting later.
I put my hand on the back of his head and put his face against the desk.
Pavlos tells us the freighter's schedule. The transfer point. And one thing we did not have: Kostas Stavros is meeting the freighter at the dock at 6:00 a.m. to take possession of the consigliera personally.
Personally.
I look at Matteo.
Pavlos realizes neither of us is bluffing.
I kill him.
The third placeis a freight yard off the Belt Parkway. Two operators walking a Stavros pickup point before the 5:30 transfer. Six men in the yard. Two cameras on the gate. A sniper position on the south roof with a clear line of sight on the loading bay.
We do not engage. We file. We go.
The drive back is silent.
