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The man looked up as Nick approached the table with Declan in tow. Nick wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get to his feet. There were commonalities among the men who ran Syndicate territories, and one of the most annoying was a certain brand of egoism, like they were kings deigning to meet with the peasants who worked their land, which come to think of it, wasn’t that far from the truth.
“Damian,” Nick said, holding out his hand.
Only then did Damian Cavallo rise slowly to his feet. He shook Nick’s hand, his eyes scanning Nick’s face before turning to Declan. Nick had the sense that they were being catalogued, the details filed away in some kind of data bank that might serve a purpose later.
Nick took advantage of the opportunity to do thesame, taking in Damian’s dark hair, pronounced cheekbones, and the custom cut of his trousers. Nick had a lot of experience getting a read on people, both from his time with BPD before he’d started MIS with Ronan and Dec and from the work they’d done since. In their business, it was necessary to take the measure of their clients, to ensure they were trustworthy and that their motives were pure. MIS wasn’t an assassination firm. They didn’t kill people strictly for money or convenience, and while Clay did deep background on every potential client before MIS took a job, there was no replacement for good old-fashioned instinct.
Instinct told him a lot about Damian Cavallo, head of the Syndicate’s New York territory. The leather jacket couldn’t hide the truth from Nick’s practiced eye: Damian might be working for the modern-day equivalent of the Mob, but underneath it all, he was a rich kid.
Dec shook Damian’s hand and introduced himself. They sat down, Nick and Declan crammed into the tiny chairs across the tiny table from Damian. Nick felt a little like Alice in Wonderland, like his head and limbs might burst out of the diner’s door and windows.
He waited for the waitress to bring coffee and refill Damian’s cup before speaking.
“Thanks for meeting with us,” Nick said.
Damian met his eyes. “I’m always happy to do a favor for those with… similar business interests, but like I said, Nolan Burke runs the Boston territory now."
Nick was tempted to correct Damian. The Syndicate and MIS didn’t share “similar business interests.” It was true that the Syndicate had been remade in recent years, the old-school Mob model turned on its head by Nico Vitale, who’d reinvented it as a sleek, modern army of men who were both intelligent and ruthless. They were men who didn’t hesitate to do the dirty work of keeping everyone in their international crime syndicate in line but who had taken certain legacy income streams off the table: word on the street was the Syndicate no longer sanctioned the sale of drugs to kids, trafficking, or the killing of women and children under any circumstances.
But everything else was fair game, and the Syndicate was still a money-making operation where MIS had never been about money. They took on affluent clients to fund pro bono jobs for those whocouldn’t pay for their services, something that had made them all rich as a byproduct.
Nick let it slide. He was hat in hand, asking for Damian’s help. Now wasn’t the time to debate the details of their different business models. Damian had tried to pawn him off on Burke, but Damian oversaw the whole Northeast territory, and Nick had jumped at the opportunity to meet with him when he’d heard Damian would be in town to meet with Nolan.
“I’m not looking to step on any toes,” Nick said. “I know Burke’s in charge of Boston, but my questions have more to do with process. I know you run the Syndicate’s cyber lab out of New York. I thought maybe you’d have some advice.”
Damian took a drink of his coffee, the silence stretching between them until it was almost awkward. “I’m listening.”
Nick started slowly, outlining the history between Alexa and Leland — the accident, her recovery, her work with the AG. Damian raised his eyebrows at that part.
“We try to avoid working with members of the justice system unless we know them personally,” he said.
“I don’t blame you,” Nick said. He continued,explaining the dirt MIS had dug up on Leland, the payoffs by Frederick Walker, the assault on Alexa at her apartment and her eventual resignation at the AG’s office.
Damian didn’t seem surprised by the fact that they were talking about a United States Senator, but that was probably because he’d learned the same thing working with the Syndicate that Nick had learned at MIS: evil didn’t discriminate.
There were bad people everywhere — and good ones too. Some of them wore torn jeans and leather jackets. Some of them wore suits.
On both sides.
Declan remained mostly quiet while Nick explained, breaking in only a couple of times to add small details, and they turned away the waitress who came to take their order, telling her they were just going to have coffee.
When Nick was done, Damian sat back in his chair and studied him across the table. “How can I — we — help you?”
Nick exhaled. “We have a guy who runs our cyber operation. It’s not as wide-ranging as the one you operate, but Clay is good. Thorough.” The Syndicate operated cyber labs in both New York and Paris, and Nick had heard their capability rivaledthat of the CIA, complete with several former-NSA analysts and hackers on the payroll. “He’s been through everything with a fine-tooth comb, but we’re at a standstill.”
“He didn’t find anything?” Damian asked.
“He found plenty,” Nick said. “But it’s all shell companies and shady payoffs and dinners with government officials that can be spun any number of ways by a family like the Walkers.”
“I take it that leak was you?” Damian asked. “A few months ago?”
Nick nodded. “We were trying to flush them out, force the media to dig.”
“It worked on Yael Dohan,” Dec added bitterly.
Dohan had been at the helm of Manifest when they’d kidnapped Elise for their trafficking ring. When MIS had come for him, he’d responded by leaking accusations that MIS wasn’t as aboveboard as they led people to believe. That had ultimately led to the AG’s interest in the company and their current situation, but it had also shut down Dohan. The story was too big, and the press had run with it.
“It would take considerable pull to shut down allegations of impropriety in this climate,” Damian said.
