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Gil shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s the peril of doing business,” he said.
Vincent had entertained fantasies of strangling the old man with his bare hands since he was about fourteen. He’d used to lie awake and picture it at night, squeezing until his neck snapped in his hands. The urges came and went, but they had never been stronger than they were now.
“One of the perils of our business… as you well know… is ending up with a bullet in your head, if they don’t fucking cut it off first. I don’t think Mama would be happy to have to attend the funeral of another son, especially if your refusal to help ended in his death… again.”
Vincent hated using his brother’s death to gain leverage over his father. It had nearly killed his mother when his brother had been found with his throat slit on their doorstep, a clear threat to his father. Luckily, his mother was a strong woman… much stronger than Gil had ever given her credit for. Vincent had loved his older brother and looked up to him, but he was desperate to use whatever was needed in order to get Gil to listen.
Gil gave his son the look of the devil and said, “Your mother forgave me for Alberto’s death. She finally accepted that it wasn’t my fault.”
Vincent smiled inwardly. He knew how to work his father. The key had always been, and would always be, his mother. He shrugged and said in a nonchalant tone, “Then perhaps she’ll forgive you for another son gone.”
Outside Corpus Christi, Texas
Late Saturday Afternoon
“So,Barry, tell me what’s new on the cocaine front these days.” Sitting behind the tinted windows of his luxury SUV, a perk of working for the Drug Enforcement Administration, Corbett Lindstrom took a bite of the sandwich the boy had brought him from the deli. “Damn, they didn’t put any mustard on this again,” he said.
“You and your damn mustard,” Barry muttered with a roll of his eyes. Corbett wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but before he could ask, Barry launched into an answer to his first question. “Man, there ain’t nothin’ going on right now ‘cept Boss Man is so pissed, everybody’s afraid of what he’s gonna do next.”
Corbett already knew that. It had been deathly quiet since the takedown of the San Antonio operation. It had given Corbett and the other agents in the small field office some much needed time to attend to other cases that had been neglected while they chased down Vincent Heston’s crew. He was looking for information on the “rat” that Barry had given him a heads-up about, but he was dancing around it, fishing for all that he could get out of the boy.
“What has he done so far?”
“Let’s just say I don’t think those guys that kidnapped that lady and screwed up getting back the money from her dumbass brother are gonna live to see their day in court.”
Not giving too much information back, Corbett said, “I would think they’d be keeping them in protective custody.”
Barry snorted and then laughed. “Man, protective custody is some bullshit when you’re so rich and powerful that you got guys right there on the inside. Do you have any idea who this guy is?”
“I have an idea, Barry,” he said. “Why don’t you go ahead and give me a confirmation on it?”
“I ain’t saying his name, man. I already told you that. I wouldn’t live to see my first legal drink.”
Corbett hadn’t expected the boy to say Heston’s name. He almost acted as if it were akin to saying Beetlejuice three times. The guy would appear in the car next to him if he did. Corbett chuckled to himself at the thought; if it were only that easy.
“It won’t go any further than this car,” Corbett promised, somewhat lying. The conversation was being recorded, as usual, and Corbett would more than likely be sharing it with Lewis and Gomez, his superiors.
Barry laughed again. “Man, I know you really believe that. That’s what’s so great about you, man. You still got this bleached-white outlook on things, even after all you’ve seen.”
Barry had no clue about the kinds of things Corbett had seen either as a DEA agent or as a Navy SEAL on tour in Afghanistan. He only wished that his view of the world was still a white-washed one. Then maybe he could sleep better at night. “You’re talking about the informant in the DEA?” Corbett asked him.
“Yep, that’s the one,” Barry said. “Boss Man knows what’s happening before you do, sometimes, except for that thing with the kidnapping and all that. He sure is pissed about that. Scary shit.”
“Okay, Barry. Without saying his name, maybe you could tell me what his plans are now that over half his operation was seized.”
“Well first, he’s gonna make sure those responsible ain’t never gonna see the light of day again. Then, he’ll rebuild the business. He’s got friends or relatives in Mexico with a lot of cash. His dad was a big-time gangster years ago, I hear. Then, he’s gonna find that courier snitch and make sure he pays for his part in all of this. If it weren’t for him, Boss Man would still be sitting on top of the world.”
“Who’s his dad?” Corbett asked.
Barry laughed. “Good try,” he said. “You got something soft and warm for old Barry today?”
Corbett sighed. This meeting had been quite unproductive. “Listen, Barry, I got a girl that you’re gonna abso-fucking-lutely love. But you gotta give me something.”
Corbett’s heart hurt when Barry spoke his next words. “Alright, man. I heard the DEA snitch’s first name a few days ago. It’s Samuel.”
Corbett snapped his head in Barry’s direction. He knew the look on his face frightened the boy. It was obvious in the way the boy reached for the door handle. He felt bad, knowing the violent history Barry had with his step-daddy, but he couldn’t hide his shock or anger.
“Are you sure?” Corbett asked him. “Positively, one hundred percent sure?”
