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“Steph, they’re just gangsters with scary accents,” he said with a wink, ignoring her question. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. Now take your shower.”
Circling her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly, then slipped away and ambled into the bathroom. Waiting until she’d closed the door, he marched briskly from the room and headed through the house to Benny’s domain. Reaching the door, he punched in the code and entered.
“It’s all yours,” Benny declared, handing him the envelope.
Tearing it open, Marco pulled out a note and a hand-drawn map.
Delivery arriving 9 p.m. Abandoned farmhouse at location shown.
“Hey, Benny,” he exclaimed, handing the note and map back to him. “Can you find this place?”
“Yep, no problem,” Benny replied, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “Damn, this is in the middle of nowhere.”
Benny manipulated the view, showing the area from above, then moving around the dilapidated building. Marco shook his head.
“There’s no cover anywhere,” Benny remarked. “No trees except way back where the forest ends, but the structure has nothing around it. Not even any bushes.”
“I don’t like this,” Marco muttered. “I don’t like this one bit.”
Chapter 26
For decades Max Steadman had walked a precarious line between sophisticated criminal organizations and law enforcement. He negotiated meetings, offered advice, and carried out surveillance operations. But he refused to help his nefarious friends if the situation involved narcotics or prostitution.
He had a zest for life, a passion for danger, and a deep respect for the boys in blue. With one foot in the solid gumshoe tricks of the past, and one in the ever-changing world of technology, Max was known as Max the Magnificent. In spite of his success and long-standing relationships, for several months he’d been thinking about disappearing into the sunset.
Unlike several of his other important clients, Carlo Moretti had kept their association a closely guarded secret. He still didn’t understand why Carlo had never introduced him to his son when Marco had grown into a young man, but Max hadn’t taken it personally. He knew Carlo would have had his reasons.
Now Max had finally met Marco Moretti.
He was handsome, cool, and confident, with a look in his eye suggesting a spine made of steel.
It came as no surprise.
He was just like his father.
But talking with him had caused Max to flash back to the conversation he’d had with Carlo shortly before he’d passed away.
“Max, the business is going to hell,” the man had said. “You need to get out while you still can. Kick back, marry a girl half your age, and have some fun.”
Eating his breakfast and listening to the morning news, Max wondered if Carlo had been right. A ruthless Asian gang was causing mayhem on the streets of Chinatown.
Max shook his head.
The world was growing smaller, and the rules of engagement had become blurred. Honor among thieves no longer existed. The Zeppelin brothers weren’t the first group of Eastern Europeans seeking riches in the US. Merciless mobs from across the globe were descending on various parts of the country, each playing by their own laws. The underworld he once knew so well was turning into no-man’s land.
Kenny Rogers’ famous hit ‘The Gambler’ rang through the air telling Max he had an incoming call. Glancing down at his phone, the screen announced an unknown caller. He picked it up anyway. Many of his clients used burner phones, and regularly changed their SIM cards.
“Max here. Talk to me.”
“Hi, Max, it’s Marco Moretti.”
Max smiled. “What can I do for you, Marco?”
“I’d like to meet with you. It’s important.”
“It usually is. When and where?”
“As soon as you can make it to my compound. I’m sure you know where it is.”
