Page 95 of Disgrace

The guys worked quickly to unload the truck, separate the goods, and destroy anything that might be trackable. They worked as a team, which was a sign of a good crew, and a nod to the Capo that ran them, too.

Speaking of the Capo …

John bypassed the working guys, and headed to the side of the warehouse. He moved up the metal spiral staircase, taking them two at a time. He didn’t bother to knock on the office door upstairs—the only room up there—as the Capo who had called him earlier left it open.

“Marky,” John greeted.

The man—who would usually be working behind his desk—was pacing from one side of his office, to the other side. He passed John a quick glance, and a nod but continued his pacing.

“You said something was up?”

Marky nodded. “I got a call—friend of a friend down in Brooklyn.”

“All right. What about?”

“Supposedly, my associate overheard some talk. Apparently, the guys are in with the Calabrese people. Not deep involved, mind you.”

“Not made, you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Go on.”

“He said they mentioned a new job. Burning some warehouses. One mentioned was one down this way. The only one down this way is mine, John.”

Shit.

“Going back to that again?”

Marky shrugged. “It’s concerning. Listen, we’ve gone through this nonsense with them—burning shit, and shooting up whatever they can. I can’t afford to lose another business because of the goddamn Calabrese family.”

“Don’t blame you.”

Their Capos were hemorrhaging money at the moment with all their losses. It didn’t have to be the loss of life. The loss of a safe business, or place to do business, was just as bad in the grand scheme of things.

“I figured you’re in close with Andino and Dante, and neither of them are very easy to reach at the moment.”

“Truth. You know how the boss is, though. Dante has Giovanni for shit on the streets, and messages get relayed back depending on importance.”

“Exactly, but this might not be considered important. It’s only talk, John. My friend didn’t even know the name of the guys, and shit, he was in the back of a strip club throwing dollar bills at a girl shaking her ass in front of him. It’s not someone’s solid word. I can’t take that kind of shit to the boss, his underboss, or his consigliere. He doesn’t like—”

“To have his time wasted, yeah. I got it.”

John glanced around, and back at the opened door. He could still hear the men working away downstairs. Some of their murmurings and laughter climbed up high to reach them in the office.

“Do you think it’s a smart idea to have your guys working in a warehouse at the moment, considering?” John asked.

“I don’t have much of a choice, unless you could help me along there until this shit blows over.”

“How so?”

“Like I said, you’re in close with the boss, and Andino. I mean, sometimes it’s Andino running the show, and sometimes it’s Dante. Whoever makes the calls, I guess. Point is, if they want me to keep bringing in money and safely, I need a place to do that.”

“I can try to work—”

John’s words cut off at the scent of something reaching the doorway behind him. A strong smell that burned his nostrils with every sniff. An unmistakable smell. He sniffed again, and then took a step closer to the doorway.

What the fuck?