nephew and consigliere, Adrian. And the Barzetti Family: Frank Savona, who was Don Barzetti; Mike Brambilla, his underboss; and Giorgio Zini, his consigliere.
These sixteen people represented hundreds of men on the ground—and perhaps thousands of allies in associated crews, gangs, families and syndicates. They outnumbered the Sicilians dramatically, and they were on their home ground. They had no intention of taking the fight to Italy or changing anything about any other family. All they wanted was the right to make their families as they saw fit.
It seemed to Nick the very definition of just cause.
And he meant to prevail.
He shared his own news first. “We have intel that the Cuccias have bought a warehouse compound in eastern New York, not far north of Poughkeepsie, easy reach to all our territories. Drone footage shows three large buildings. Enough space to store heavy artillery if they wished.”
Ed Alberici whistled. “Cazzo. Are they planning a full-scale war in the middle of New England?”
“That would be shocking and stupid. But they’re certainly planning to settle in and stock up in some way,” Nick answered. “Donnie has a theory. Donnie?”
“From the activity we’re seeing, it looks to me like they’re planning to move in for a while. Knowing Il Padrino, he probably thinks he’ll give us a good spanking and then take control, so we remember who’s boss. In that case, I could see the compound being a front—and also a base of operations.”
“Take control of the American Families?” Sal Romano asked, his face a mask of angry surprise.
That was Donnie’s theory, and Nick saw it as well. They both nodded.
“Then we need to kick his ass across the ocean,” Sal snarled. “Arrogant bastardo.”
“Good. I want a real war, “Vio said, leaning back in his chair. “Not tanks in the streets, but real fighting. I can’t keep the lights on much longer if we don’t get Europe back. The cut from medicinals is the only reason we haven’t folded already. This financial war is killing me. I swear to the Virgin, I’d rather bleed red than green.”
Giada leaned in toward Vio and rested her chin on steepled fingers. “We should talk. There’s a real estate deal I’m teasing, and I’m looking for property. If you can get me a foothold in Connecticut for Sacco Properties, maybe I can shift some of the Sacco cut of the drugs your way.”
“The plan is to get the Families out of drugs when this is settled,” Nick cut in. “Not get deeper.”
“Yeah,” Vio agreed. “And that doesn’t solve the big problem. I want Sicily to back off and get out of the way of my business. We can talk about the deal, Giada, but I don’t want a Band-Aid. I want to win this fuckin’ war.”
“My news is less than ideal on that score,” Sal said, and claimed the attention of every person at the table. He looked at Nick as he explained: “I’ve had word that New Jersey’s in talks with the Sicilians. And you know, Don Gioia’s got family connection with the Piovenes in Queens. If Jersey goes to Sicily, Queens follows right behind, and that’s a shaky set of dominoes for New York.”
Nick kept his attention on Sal as he processed that news. If they had to fight their own countrymen, blood would fill the streets. “What’s our leverage with Jersey? How do we close their ears to Sicily?”
“Not much,” Giada answered. “Jersey does its own thing.”
“You could give them clear access to Canada,” offered Frank Savona.
“That’s our pipeline,” Bruno said. “You think we should let our competition onto our routes? We’re already cash-strapped as it is.”
Frank shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Frank’s right,” said Sonny Romano. “You asked what leverage we have with Jersey. That’s it. Everybody knows they’re hot to get a straight shot north.”
Nick shook his head and spoke as the leader of the council. “I don’t like how we’re leaning on the drug trade. Most of us here have avoided it or minimized it for good reason, and now it’s taking over by creeping degrees. It’s unstable, and if we rely on it too much it will make us unstable.”
Angie faced him directly. “What if the choice is between using the drug trade or losing the war?”
Irritated by Angie’s challenge and by the twist of unhelpful emotion in his chest, Nick glared across the table at his friend, who was no longer his advisor. “That’s not the choice. We will find another wedge.”
“It’s not savory, but we could go personal,” Sal suggested.
Nick cocked his