Spade scrutinized the computer screen.“I can do this one without leaving my chair.Pull plugs.Flag suspicious transfers.Trigger audits.Diaz wakes up tomorrow and finds three shell companies frozen because some bank compliance officer suddenly decided to become competent.He’ll know someone’s fucking with him, but not who.”
I leaned forward.“And option three?”
“The riskiest move.”Spade ran a hand through his hair.“We’d need contact.A way to feed Diaz a story about Victor without leaving breadcrumbs back to us.Someone close enough to whisper in the right ears.”He sighed.“Roth would’ve been perfect.Now he’s gone.”
“Can we split the difference?”The question came out slowly.
“How?”Spade leaned back in his chair.
“Start with what hurts him most without creating a body count.”I tapped the second note.“Money.You starve a beast before you stab it.While you handle finances, we prep the package for the feds.Give ourselves a week, maybe two, to see how he reacts to the squeeze.If he pushes harder on our roads instead of dealing with his accountant problems, we pull the federal trigger early and let them disrupt his city operations while we focus here.”
Spade’s mouth curved upward.“You sure you never strategized before?”
“I watched enough true crime shows.”I shrugged.“They always emphasize following the money.”
He scribbled another note.“Atilla will approve.He hates surrendering control to anyone with a badge.This approach lets us hit Diaz by our rules first.The feds become a tool, not a lifeline.”
“And Victor?”I asked.“We just… let him run around until Diaz trips over him?”
“Oh, no,” Spade said.“We keep him on the board.We just don’t start there.Once the money stuff hits, Diaz is going to look for someone to blame.If we do this right, Victor’s going to look real convenient.”
“You’re going to frame him,” I said.
Spade’s eyes narrowed.“Frame is a strong word.We’ll nudge Diaz’s existing doubts.Men such as Victor don’t climb without stepping on toes.I guarantee he’s made enemies in Diaz’s crew.I only need to find one person to whisper to at the right moment.”
“How do you plan to accomplish this?”I asked.
A smirk spread across his face.“The Internet creates wild spaces.Cartel boys brag anonymously.You’d be shocked by what people reveal when they believe nobody watches.”
“I’m already shocked,” I said.
He pushed back from the desk and rose to his feet.“Come here.”
I followed him to the wall covered with route maps.
Spade pressed a marker into my palm.“Circle something meaningful to you.A warehouse, road, shell company -- whatever you want gone when this ends.Not for strategic perfection.For personal significance.”
My hand trembled as I moved closer to the map.Names swam before my eyes while lines seemed to twist together.
An address near the city caught my attention.Jason had mentioned the location in his notes once, drawing a small skull beside it.“Here,” I said, drawing a circle around the address.
Spade leaned forward.“What makes this place important?”
“A bar,” I said.“Jason took me there once.Diaz owned the entire block.Men made deals in the open.Girls worked for tips and rides home.Jason ran deliveries through the alley.The name escapes me now.The sign flickered constantly.Everything reeked of stale beer and cheap cologne.”
Spade nodded, his finger tracing the location on the map.“I recognize this place.Sits in a strip of businesses Diaz controls through three different companies.The bar serves as a front.Behind those walls?Stash rooms.Meeting spots.”
I capped the marker with a decisiveclick.“I want to see it burn.”
“Noted.”Spade’s mouth curved into a half-smile.“We’ll make sure the sign goes permanently dark.”
He went back to his chair and sat hard.“Okay, here’s the plan.I start poking his money today.Quiet.Little flags and glitches he won’t notice right away, but his accountants will.I prep the fed package, but I don’t send it yet.You and I go through Jason’s notes and pull the cleanest pieces -- things that can stand on their own without pointing at you or the club.When we hit the button, I want it airtight.”
“You already picked who gets it?”I asked.
“Couple options,” he said.“FBI field office is one.DEA is another.I’ve got a detective’s name too.”
Spade rubbed his eyes.“I pulled his file.Best I can tell, he remains one of the few cops still trying to do the right thing in a department where badge-wearers look the other way when money changes hands.”
