Deadly Command

“Has anyone figured out who made the hit?” Cameron asked. “Cops? Feds? Some local opposition?”

“Bella was the only survivor. He was pretty badly cut up and burned, and had slugs in both legs. He came through with some information when our contact visited, but all we got was a single hitter,” Lorenzo said, “well-armed, dressed in black and knew exactly what he was doing. Like he came out of nowhere. He took out the guard, then went inside the warehouse and blew everything all to hell. Used some kind of phosphorous grenades to burn up the merchandise.”

“Then it doesn’t sound like local cops or the Feds. They go to the fuckin’ john in pairs. And destroying evidence doesn’t fit the rule book.”

“If it was a local hit, why would they wipe out the merchandise?” one of the group asked. “That was a high-price consignment.”

Cameron nodded. “Good point. Let’s check this out. Contact Chicago. Get some muscle to make the rounds—kick down some doors and bruise some asses. Spread some money. Find out who this joker might be and if he does work for somebody. If it turns out to be some home group, they’re dead.” He tossed back the whiskey and waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s go, people.”

“You figure this is the same guy who hit the exchange in Miami?” someone asked. “Can’t be a coincidence coming so close together.”

“We have to consider they might be connected,” Cameron admitted, “which is why we get local people on the streets asking questions and pushing hard.”

The man who had asked about the destruction of the consignment said, “If we get our hands on this guy, do we put him out of his misery? Or do you want to talk to him?”

“Oh, I want to talk to him. Now, I don’t mind if he gets a little bruised on the way, but I want him breathing and able to speak. Let’s get to it, boys.”

Lorenzo waited until the room had cleared. He closed the heavy door and turned to face Cameron.

“Pretty expensive mess, Lou,” he said. “The cargo in Miami and now Chicago. Vehicles. Bella’s BMW, still with the new-leather smell. And seven of our guys.”

Cameron nodded, waiting. When Lorenzo didn’t continue, he said, “Bella ran the Chicago team. He shouldn’t have let this happen. He got sloppy and paid the price. What concerns me more is the way this is going to look. Two hits like this is a loss of face.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to push it too far by mentioning that.”

Cameron slumped back in his leather armchair, drumming his fingers on the padded arms. His eyes wandered around the expensively decorated room.

“Can I have a drink?” Lorenzo asked, a slight hesitation in his tone.

“Go ahead.” Cameron watched his man fill a tumbler and take a swallow. “Hey, you know how much that stuff is a bottle? I’m only asking because the way you’re slopping it down it might as well be tap water.”

“Yeah. I must be nervous,” Lorenzo said. “I get like that when I start adding up cash loss.”

Cameron smiled. “Tony, forget that. We can stand the loss from Miami and Chicago. It’s a pain in the butt, sure, but I’m more concerned about the how and the why. I don’t give a damn about Soames’s spot. He isn’t that important. Just a middleman. But Bella’s warehouse was supposed to be safe. That’s our part of the hood. Like church grounds. Consecrated. Off-limits. No one walks in off the fucking street and takes down one of my places.”

“Looks like this guy didn’t know that.”

“That’s stating the obvious. So this is how we play it. I want you to take charge, Tony. I mean the whole nine yards in Chicago. You’re the new boss. If anybody doesn’t like it, you get them to talk to me. Get things back on track. Make your mark, Tony. You earned this.”

“Thanks, Lou, I won’t let you down.”

“Kick some ass up there. Remind those assholes who they work for, and don’t take any crap. It’s your priority—drop every thing else. Choose a couple of guys to do the running for you, but get me results.”

Lorenzo drained his glass, then cleared his throat. “What about Calvera?”

“I’ll handle him. He won’t be happy when I tell him his order isn’t going to be delivered for a few more days, but he’s going to have to suck it up.”

“Let’s hope he sees it that way.”

Cameron raised his hands. “Shit happens, Tony. He’ll get over it. I took the hit, not him.”

“Okay.”

As Lorenzo headed for the door Cameron said, “One thing needs clearing up soon as. Bella. This mess is down to him, so he’s no longer of any use to me. He screwed up big, and he might start to open his mouth if the cops start coming around. Make it so the only way he leaves the hospital is via the morgue. Understand?”

“Consider it done,” Lorenzo said, and then left the room.

Finally on his own, Cameron stared at the phone. Make the fucking call, he told himself. What the hell is José Calvera going to do? Sue me? He smiled at his own joke, reached out to tap in the number and waited for the call to be picked up.

The moment Calvera picked up and spoke, Cameron knew the bad news had already reached him. His Hispanic temperament always got the better of him, and he launched into a loud rant over the delay in getting his order. Cameron allowed the man to get it out of his system.

“I got a fuckin’ street war in the making,” Calvera concluded. “You know the score here. The federales are hitting us hard. Our rival cartels are bustin’ my cojones trying to take over. I want my boys armed so they don’t get wiped out on the first day. You promised me, Lou. Now you tell me my delivery is delayed because you got some shit happening in Chicago.”

“This thing kind of held me up. I need to calm things down for a day or two. Let me handle it, José, and I’ll have your stuff on the way soon as possible.”

“Don’t let me down. If I get angry over this, we are going to have our own war. Do you understand me, amigo?”

“José, take a breath. You’ll get your stuff soon enough. You know that. I honor my deals. All I ask is a couple more days and you’ll have your consignment. I’ll even throw in a few extra items as compensation for your trouble. Is that fair?”

Slightly mollified, Calvera grunted in agreement.

“So what happened?”

“Some kind of screwup with merchandise. I’ve got my hands full sorting it out. My crew boss in Chicago fucked up, so Tony Lorenzo is on his way there. He’s the new boss. The other guy is out.”

Calvera chuckled. “Hey, this is me you’re talking to, Lou. I already heard about the problem in Chicago. Screwup with merchandise? You got hit, and your weapons were blown to hell. Tell me I’m wrong, amigo.”

“José, nothing gets by you, huh? Yeah, I got hit. Miami, too. So things are a little crazy at the moment.”

“Who is responsible?” Calvera asked.

“As of yet I have no idea. The smoke has hardly had time to settle, but I’m going to find out.”

“Maybe you have a new player trying to move in on your territory,” Calvera said.

“Anything is possible, Jose. What’s certain is the son of a bitch who did this will be more than sorry he screwed with Louis Cameron.”

“Maybe he doesn’t realize who you are.”

“I’m about to change that,” Cameron stated.

“So I hear from you soon? Sí?”

“Muy pronto, mi amigo.”

Cameron cut the call and sat back. He didn’t even look up when the door opened and someone stepped into the room and crossed to his desk. He knew who his visitor was. The familiar drag of one foot against the floor told him it was Nathan, his younger brother.

“I can quote you down to the last dime how much that Chicago mess cost us,” Nathan said. “I’ve just been working it out.”