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CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Good morning, everyone,” said Cam. “We’re going to start with Tobias this morning. Tobias? You said you thought of something last night, a lead maybe?”
“Yea, it was after I spoke to Pigsty and Tanner. Gail mentioned the Mackenzie Quinn relationship or business. And it hit me.”
“Westies,” said Rory.
“Yea, or at least the modern-day version of them. Westies were the Irish mafia in New York at the turn of the century until the mid-1950s. They were mostly into organized crime, gambling, running alcohol, prostitution, that sort of thing. But you have to remember that perversion and trafficking women came later in our century.”
“We’ve really evolved,” groaned JB.
“Right. But I think we can all agree that they didn’t just disappear. They became better at staying hidden, just like other organized crime families. The Italians, the Russians, the Chinese. They’re all still out there, but they know how to disguise themselves.
“What if Jason Mackenzie and Eddie Quinn are still playing that game? What if he’s investing money for Quinn and laundering it for the Irish mafia?”
“Pigsty? Any word from the feds on him? Do we know if he was under their watch?” asked Eric.
“Interesting story,” he said, frowning at the group. “The feds refuse to give us that information. They said, and I quote, ‘we cannot confirm for you that they may or may not have been under our review.’ End quote.”
“Jesus, fucking feds. Will they ever learn that we’re on their side?” said Cam.
“Probably not,” frowned Striker. The dog at his side barked three times, nodding his head. The men chuckled, staring at another one of the beasts they were training. “Sorry, he has an opinion about everything. Weird thing is, I think he actually understands everything.”
“What the hell is that?” asked Miller.
“Well, we’re not exactly sure yet,” he said, scratching his head. “Lucy is doing a canine DNA test on him. She thinks he’s part Burmese Mountain, part Mastiff, and possibly Russian Black Wolf.”
“A wolf? A fucking wolf? Like the one that almost ate your ass?” growled Gaspar.
“No, not really. I mean, Thor was a pure-bred beauty. Although looking at Apollo, he could be Thor’s son.”
“Apollo? You named the damn dog Apollo?” frowned Miller. Apollo turned to the man behind him, cocking his head. He stood on all fours, staring over the seat. His snout was lying on Striker’s shoulder as if to dare Miller to touch him.
“He likes his name,” grinned Striker.
“Okay, enough of the dog talk,” said Luke. “We were talking about the lack of cooperation with the feds. We know that we need to get some folks inside NutriHealth and find out what the fuck is going on. Maybe we need to find out what the Irish boys in New York are doing.”
“I’ll go,” said O’Hara, smirking at the group. “I mean, it seems obvious.”
“Uh, hello?” grinned Irish. He nodded to Liffey, Titus, and Dom. “We’ve probably got fifty guys here with Irish descent. I think we can send a team up to see what’s happening.”
“What do we have on Mackenzie’s finances?” asked Hex.
“Let’s just say I’m going to enjoy figuring out how he’s involved with NutriHealth,” said Jean. “Mackenzie actually started out with one of the major big three firms in Manhattan. He was making a killing, literally. In his first year, his W2 statement had him earning more than three point nine million. He doubled that the next year. His third year with the firm, they assigned him one client. Only one.”
“Let me guess. Quinn,” growled Antoine.
“Yep. Quinn. He’d been a client of the firm for a while, always insisting that whoever was handling his money and investments worked with him and only him. Mackenzie doubled his holdings that first year. The next three years were the same. That’s when Quinn asked him to leave the firm and come to work for him by himself.
“Let’s just say, he was given an offer he couldn’t refuse. According to human resource records, Mackenzie was stupid enough to put all the details in his resignation letter. He was being given a car service at his disposal with driver, two vehicles for personal use, a house in the Hamptons, one on Long Island, and one in Manhattan.
“I think we can assume the house in Miami came later. The brother and sister were both given trusts valued at two million apiece. Ironically, Gail does not have one. But I think I know why. The trusts weren’t put into place when they were children. They were put into place later. If my timing is right, it happened after the first time the daughter and daughter-in-law were used. There were several additions made to the accounts. Again, it seems to coincide with the timing of their abuse. I only suggest that because I know when Mackenzie lost money and when he made money. If I go by that as the catalyst, then this is what I get.”
“Fucking unbelievable,” murmured Tobias. JB reached for his arm, squeezing. “She gets brutally raped, beaten, and humiliated and gets nothing. They had the same happen, but by all accounts, agreed to go back for more. We’ve all seen twisted shit in our day, but this might just be the worst.”
“It’s all sick and twisted shit, Tobias,” said Joseph. “But that’s why we’re here. To stop it. Look around you, son. There are men in this room who have seen far worse, and their wives have experienced far worse. Evil is evil. Heinous is heinous. Comparing doesn’t make it any better.”
“I wasn’t comparing,” he frowned. “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect to any of you. It’s just that I saw her injuries. I’ve heard her nightmares. I don’t know what to do.”
