"I'll give you a chance, Michael. Starting in our warehouse inventory. You'll be logging shipments, making sure what arrives matches our manifests." I tap my pen against the desk.
Relief floods his face. "Thank you, Mr. Vitale. I won't let you down."
"Franco will show you around, get you set up." I stand, signaling the meeting is over. "One more thing, this is a family business. We protect our own. Loyalty matters more than anything."
I watch his reaction carefully as I deliver this subtle warning.
"I understand, sir."
I watch Michael leave with Franco, then immediately call Angelo, one of my captains who manages this area of the city for me.
“I just hired a new kid, Michael Russo. Says his uncle, Vincent worked here. I want everything on him. And I mean everything." I glance out the window where I see Vinny showing Michael toward the warehouse. "Full background check. School records. Medical history. Family connections. Bank statements. Social media. I want to know what cereal he ate for breakfast when he was twelve."
"You think he's a plant?" Angelo asks.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I'm not taking chances. Work with Vinny to get his prints off whatever he touches today. Run them through our system, see if anything pops. Check if he's ever been arrested, even as a juvenile."
"You want surveillance?"
"Nothing obvious. But yes, I want to know where he lives, who he talks to." I pause, considering. "And check if his wife is sick. Hospital records, insurance claims. If he's lying about that..."
“You think he’s from another family or law enforcement?”
Something that feels like guilt burns in my gut. "Check for any contact between him and Agent Ricci, but be discreet. Very discreet."
"And if we find something suspicious?"
"Then we handle it. Quietly." Fucking hell.
I end the call with Angelo and am about to head out when my phone vibrates. I check the caller ID. Alphonso, my accountant. Not a good sign. He never calls unless something's gone sideways.
"What is it, Al?"
“Got a discrepancy in the accounts.”
“How much?” A discrepancy is usually bad math from someone in the organization, but on occasion it’s embezzlement. I can’t think of anyone stupid enough to try it now, but there’s no accounting for stupid sometimes.
“Half million.”
“Fucking hell, Al and you’ve only just?—”
“It’s only just popped up. The records from the clubs.”
“Georgio?” He oversees all my clubs and restaurants.
“No. Darius.”
Darius manages illegal gambling that I run through the clubs. What the fuck is he thinking?
“How did you miss this?”
“Like I said, the records have all added up until today. I haven’t told anyone, but I believe he’s been away so someone else ran the reports and sent them to me.” There’s a pause. “Matteo Puccini.”
“So Darius has been embezzling and doctoring the records?” I’m already heading to Darius. I’m going to get my money and fire him from life.
“That’s what it looks like.”
“I pay you a shit ton of money to notice things like this.”
