DANTE
It's been a long night and an even busier day.
Tracking down the shit that's happening all over Italy concerning my operations is exhausting, but the only way to get ahead of the attacks on my organization is to put boots to the ground and see things for myself.
Enzo drove me here, and he's been napping in the car as I have one secret meeting after another, but on this one, I need his help.
One of my private sources understands things no one else can because he has ears to the ground in every organization in Italy, mine included.
But I pay him handsomely to keep my information quiet.
This time, I have him looking into Antonelli Gerard and I'm about to find out just how far the man's reach goes.
He never wants me to forget the night I stole something that he thought was his.
And I'll never let him walk for the things he's doing now.
"Stay alert," I tell Enzo, who rubs sleep from his eyes. "Anything could happen, and we have to be ready."
"Always, Boss," comes his reply as he chambers a round in his gun and slides it into his waistband. "Ready when you are."
We get out of the car and walk toward the warehouse.
The door is unlocked and creaks when we open it, welcoming us to a stench of burnt transmission fluid.
A man stands near the back wall with his hands in his pockets.
He wears a heavy coat despite the mild temperature and when he sees me, he nods.
"I told you to come alone," he says gruffly, and I shake my head at him.
He knows better than to question my actions, but I let it slide.
I don't have energy for petty fault finding and my hair-trigger temper might detonate at any time.
"My man stays with me," I reply. "Now show me what you have."
He reaches into his coat and pulls out a manila envelope, walking forward, and hands it to me.
I open it and pull out several sheets of paper.
They're copies of ledgers showing shipment records and financial transactions.
My name appears multiple times alongside dates and amounts that don't match my actual operations.
"These are forged," I say, confused as I pore over every line.
I know my operational expenses and incomes like the back of my hand.
Whoever's done this just made things up and it makes me look like I’m the one who took the Turk's shipment.
If these got sent to Kemal, I'm in deep shit.
"I know," he says, "but they look real enough to fool your suppliers. Antonelli is planning to leak them within the next two weeks. Once your allies see proof that you've been skimming and stealing, they'll cut ties. Antonelli moves in and takes over while you're dealing with the fallout."
I fold the papers and slip them back into the envelope. "What else?"
My job just got harder, but if there’s something worse to hear, then I can't just pussy foot around.
