a whole army’s worth of weaponry. A few other men mill around—trusted Family members who know how to get the job done.
“I am glad we’re finally going to teach them a lesson,” the Albino says as we approach. He hefts his rifle, looking down the sights, his red eyes lit with pre-battle excitement. “If this was the old days, we would ride into their encampment and take one hundred scalps for the crime of presuming they were our equals, for putting our vice president’s life in danger, the second to the don.” He’s grinning madly. “I will kill many tonight. Credimi.”
Even Durante looks a little freaked out by this, but that’s a good thing. Maury might be bizarre and maybe slightly crazy, but he’s on our side and he’s a good fighter.
“Got your custom ’sixteen if you want it, Carlo,” Durante says, nodding as we approach. “With the red-dot sight and the extra magazine.”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll take the sawn-off, too, and two Berettas with a back holster.”
“Shit.” Durante grins. “We’re going all out, then, eh?”
“Yes, we fucking are.”
Once we’re all tooled up, we stash our cars in the underground garage and load into two separate vans: Nario and Durante in one, me and the Albino and Ubert in another. That way, if by some freak accident one of us is hit, we still have leadership in place to handle the Family.
The Albino lays his head against the van and closes his eyes, smiling. I can’t help but smile, too. It feels good to be rolling out on a job. It reminds me of the old days, before I was the don, before I had the weight of the Family resting on my shoulders and the Elephant took my father from me.
The Albino starts to sing softly in Italian. I look around the van as his voice bounces off the metal and give the men looks to let them know that, whatever happens tonight, they’re all warriors. They’re all Family.
The vans take different routes to the Irish warehouse, two sleek black vehicles moving like ghosts through the night. It’s three in the morning and the city officials, being the cheap fucks they are, have turned off half the streetlights down this way. When we step out of the van onto the industrial estate, it’s almost pitch-black.
“Carlo,” Nario whispers over the walkie. “We’re in position. Let us know when you want to move in.”
“Copy,” I reply. I turn to the men and say, “I’m taking the front door. I’ll need one volunteer to come with me.”
Immediately, everyone puts their hands up. I’m touched. I nod at Ubert.
“Take the left side, all right? Be sharp.”
He nods. “Boss.”
“Maury is going to provide rifle cover.”
He whistles softly, tapping his sniper scope as though it’s his lover. “I will try to leave some Irish dogs for you, friends.”
“The rest of you are going to take the service entrance. Work your way into the middle. And remember, it’s liable to become a clusterfuck in there, so don’t get too trigger-happy. Kill every Irishman you see, but if you think there’s even a one percent chance it could be an Italian you’re shooting at, get a better position. We’re not having any blue-on-blues here. Am I clear?”
All the men nod.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, feeling strangely calm. All of a sudden, nothing else matters. Not the past, not the future, not the confusion with Hazel. All I have to think about is the next few minutes and keeping my brothers safe. And yet, she’s still there, hovering at the back of my mind, willing me to stay alive so I can come back to her. “Let’s get fucking moving.”
Ubert and I break off in one direction and jog, rifles raised. Ubert is a big man but he moves as fluidly as any soldier I’ve ever seen. Soon, we have our backs pressed against the cold stone walls beside the door.
I gesture at Ubert. You kicking it down, or am I?
He points at himself, grinning as he puffs his chest up. I’m stronger.
I stifle a laugh—there’s no time like battle for finding the comedy in things—and give him a nod.
Ubert mutters a prayer under his breath and then kicks the door down. It flies almost off the hinges and then we’re inside, rifles raised. I switch on the flashlight on my barrel. Ubert does the same. Twin beams of light sway back and forth through the pitch-dark as we scan the corners. My mind is one annoying