“I’m sure Minato could get me intel on the gang, but if you want a meeting, I’ll have to call up Victor Qin.”
“Who?” Atticus asked.
“The Dai Lo of the Crimson Orchid Syndicate.”
“They all have such cool names,” Seven muttered. “It’s not fair. Why don’t we have a name?”
“‘Cause we’re not a gang, dumbass,” Levi said, chucking a pillow at him.
“The Dai Lo’s name is Victor?” Nico asked nobody in particular.
“That’s just what he goes by when he’s dealing with people who will butcher his actual name,” Thomas explained.
“You…” Atticus trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’refriendswith a Chinese gang leader?”
Thomas scoffed. “I didn’t say we summer together in the Hamptons. We just happen to travel in the same circles.”
“What circles, Dad? What could you possibly have in common with a gangster?” Atticus asked, skin getting redder by the minute.
“Well, if you must know, we met five or six years ago at the International Economic Leadership Forum.”
“The what?” Jericho asked.
“It’s a gathering of influential leaders, business tycoons, and political figures.”
“Of course, it is,” Jericho said. “How silly of me. You think he’d help you just ‘cause you went to one meeting together?”
“It wasn’t just one meeting. I said we met six years ago, not that I haven’t spoken to him since. “We also met two years ago at an art auction. He outbid me on a Basquiat painting I’d been eyeing for months,” Thomas muttered, sounding disgruntled. “And then we met again at the charity gala. You know the one. The Medicine without Borders Benefit. He was a large donor.”
Atticus looked flabbergasted. “Who. Are. You?”
“I’m your father,” Thomas reminded him. “I run in a lot of different circles. It’s part of my job. But I can get a hold of Victor fairly quickly.”
“You think he’ll help?” Nico asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Thomas said. “He’s a lovely man. Very generous with his donations. He even offered to donate to our foundation next year.”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m sure he’s a real sweetheart. How quickly do you think you could arrange this meeting?”
“Why exactly areyouasking to meet with the boss of a Chinese gang?” Thomas asked, using the same tone Atticus just had.
“We need to question two of their low-level soldiers without starting an all out war over a missing woman. You know once we start questioning people, things tend to get…messy. But we’re never going to get to the bottom of this if we can’t get one of them to crack.”
Thomas sighed through the phone. “I’ll see what I can do. But I need you to understand that if the triad has settled in, they’re not likely to go quietly. You might need to make peace with the fact that your answers will come at the cost of agreeing to live and let live.”
“So, we ignore the fact that they’re essentially running sweatshops in our neighborhood? These guys are creeps,” Seven said.
“I’m not saying to ignore it forever, I’m just saying that, if you want answers, you’re not likely to get them if you’re lecturing the Dai Lo about his shady business practices. Sometimes, we have to stay in our lane if we want to keep from being exposed.”
“Well, your lane is clearly much broader than I thought it was ten minutes ago,” Atticus muttered.
“Don’t do anything until you hear from me. I’ll get back with you shortly.”
He hung up without waiting for confirmation. But that was Thomas Mulvaney. He was used to people just doing what they were told when he spoke.
Well, now anyway.
Before his sons had all settled down and started giving him grandchildren, they’d been running wild, but now, almost everyone seemed to have fallen in line. Or maybe they were just too tired to get into the same trouble they used to. They were all getting pretty old.
