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Farrell grew silent, and Damian had the feeling he was deciding how much to say.
“I have company,” Farrell said. “Can’t have my wife and daughter at a two-bit hotel. Won’t leave them alone in this city for long.”
Damian nodded, trying to picture the woman who was married to Farrell Black. Trying to picture Farrell playing with a child. It was virtually impossible.
He understood Farrell’s concern. New York wasn’t under the control of any one family. Some of the organizations vying for a foothold didn’t play by the rules of the old school mob — Fiore being one of them. Farrell was one of the most notorious crime bosses in the world.
And one of the most dangerous.
He and his family would be a target in the city until the Syndicate got it under control. Still, he wasn’t surprised that Farrell would allow his wife and child to come to New York. He didn’t strike Damian as a man who bowed to fear. More likely had occupied an entire floor of the Plaza and outfitted it with enough guards to take down an army.
“Anything I can do?” Damian asked.
“Yeah, you can take out that fucker Fiore so we can get this city in hand.”
“I’m working on it,” Damian said. “You got the plans?”
“I did,” Farrell said. “You sure you’re ready? You pulled it together fast. There are a lot of targets. It’s a big operation.”
“No choice. The timeline had to be escalated. But yeah, we’re ready. The initial strike won’t be the hard part. They won’t see it coming. Not on a scale like this. It’s the aftermath that will be dangerous.”
“Not if you do it right,” Farrell said.
Damian set his glass on the table between them. “We’ll do everything right, but Fiore and Gatti will go into hiding as soon as they realize what’s happening. It’s possible we’ll find them. It’s also possible they’ll go deep underground. Then it will be a matter of how many of their men survive and how quickly and effectively they strike back.”
“You prepared to flush them out?” Farrell asked.
“Yes.”
Farrell nodded. “Anything else you need from us?”
“Just the extra men noted in my report.”
“Staging at the old Vitale headquarters in Brooklyn as we speak,” Farrell said. He reached into his suit pocket, withdrew a card. “Leader of the task force is Marco. That’s his number. He’s been instructed to follow your orders.”
“Thank you.”
Damian was surprised to realize he meant it. He hadn’t planned to come after Fiore this soon, but now he understood that doing so was critically important to his operation. He tried not to think about Aria. About her haunted eyes and the loyalty that would probably get her killed.
She wasn’t his problem.
Primo and Malcolm Gatti were his problem, had always been a problem; he’d just been putting off dealing with it. Farrell’s offer had forced Damian to look more closely at the Fiore organization. Turns out there was more there than met the eye.
And he wasn’t just talking about Primo’s sister.
“So tomorrow’s the day,” Farrell said.
Damian nodded. “That’s right.”
He’d spent the first half of the day getting Carol and the women and children from the shelter settled in the Greenwich apartment building and talking to the contractors about speeding up the rest of the work. Extra guards had been placed in the area just in case Primo got any big ideas about hitting them again. Once they were situated, he’d gone back to the office to make sure everything was in order for tomorrow’s strike. They were as ready as they would ever be.
Farrell stood, and Damian followed suit.
“Keep us posted.” Farrell said, shaking his hand. “And try not to get yourself killed.”
“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” Damian said.
Farrell shrugged. “We’re not accountants.”
He turned to leave and Damian watched him amble across the lobby, trying to ignore the fact that the meeting had left him strangely reassured. It never hurt to have more men. More resources.
That didn’t mean he was getting all warm and fuzzy about the idea of joining forces with the fucking Syndicate.
