“Our reluctance to intervene has cost us,” Don DiPietro says.
“It needs to be dealt with before this war brings heat down on all of us,” Don Accardi adds.
“What is your proposal?” Don Greco asks, and I try not to hiss at him as I reply.
“It’s quite simple really. Give me full control, and I will take The Triad, the Irish, and the Mexicans out and run the supply in New York on your behalf.”
Rumbling laughter erupts from Don Maltese, and I really want to gut that motherfucker until his intestines are coating the floor. “Simple? Are you insane? There is nothingsimpleabout eliminating the three main suppliers on the street. The blowback alone would result in a war just as bloody.”
“This is not my first rodeo. How else do you think I have achieved control across several US states?”
“I can understand eliminating The Triad. Those assholes have disrupted the peace, but the Irish and the Mexicans have coexisted with us for years without any trouble,” Don DiPietro says. “Turning on them without due cause is bad for business.”
“My track record begs to differ.”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t endure threats and challenges when you wiped out rivals in other states,” Ben supplies, eyeing me with abject intrigue.
“Of course, I did, but the trick is to anticipate it and to act first. There are several smaller gangs operating in pockets around New York who will jump at the chance to cut out the middlemen and control the supply.” A list Dario compiled uploads on the screen. “None of these local gangs are serious competition. We wipe them out at the same time we hit the others, installing our own men in each location and buying their loyalty.”
“It’s way too risky if it backfires.” Don Maltese slants me with a superior look.
“It won’t.” My voice projects confidently around the room. “My strategy works. It’s well tested.” I haven’t introduced the other element to this plan yet, needing to secure agreement first.
“None of those states are New York,” Greco says.
“I am aware.” I drill him with a sharp look before redirecting my attention to Ben. “My team has been working on this for months. We have surveillance intel we can share with you, as well as lists of names and addresses, distribution routes, and the locations of warehouses and safe houses. Inspect it for yourself if you need more convincing.”
“I would like to study it,” he concurs, and I swipe my fingers across my phone, sending him the preprepared email with all the information. His cell pings. Ben glances briefly at it, nodding once in my direction.
“The Paraguayans will never go for it,” Don Maltese says, determined to get my idea rejected. “They can’t supply the quantities we need for our VIP clients plus service the entire street business.”
“We can’t risk pissing them off and disrupting our supply,” Don Accardi agrees.
“We don’t need them. My supplier is willing to distribute to New York. They deliver quicker, they have the volume we need, and their product is better quality.”
Ben’s mouth pulls into a thin line. “You’re talking about the Colombians.” I haven’t hidden who my supply partner is on purpose. I want them to believe the Colombians supply most of my product when the truth is it’s the Russians who supply the bulk.
I nod as Don Accardi hisses under his breath. “Over my dead body will we partner with them.”
That can be arranged, I think as I stare neutrally at him. “Business decisions based on emotion are unwise. I know there is bad blood between New York and the Colombians, but—”
“With good reason,” Don DiPietro says, cutting across me as Don Greco shifts uneasily in his seat.
“Those bastards can’t be trusted,” Don Accardi adds.
“I have worked with them for four years, and I can vouch for them. They can supply us with the quantities we need, and they are reliable.”
“We got out of the street trade years ago for a reason.” Ben drums his fingers on the table. “We need to step in now to resolve this, but that doesn’t mean we want to manage it going forward. It’s a headache we don’t need.”
“Which is where I come in. I am skilled at managing this. You won’t need to lift a finger. I will run this for you.”
“What’s in it for us?” Don Maltese asks.
“I have negotiated a significant discount with the Colombians, which will save you money on your existing orders and enable you to skim ten percent off the street trade for yourselves.” All heads perk up, and I know I’ve got them. Profit always trumps objection. “You will benefit considerably just by approving me and my plan.”
“If we were to agree,” Don Accardi says, “and that’s a big if, you would be reporting directly to us. Why would you want to do that? You’re your own boss. By all accounts, you are wealthy and powerful in your own right. Why start answering to someone now?”
“I want more,” I plainly state. “My hunger for success is the fuel that drives me,” I lie because my sole motivation is revenge. I eyeball Ben. “I believe in the vision you and The Commission have for all Italian Americans. I believe I can add value and play a part.” I lean forward, my eyes sparkling with the requisite excitement. “Imagine a US where all the drug supply is managed by The Commission. We’ll be the biggest market in the world, serviced by two or three key suppliers who only sell to us. We can take advantage of the technological and financial resources at your disposal to digitize the distribution and payment in a way that keeps us off the radar and eliminates the need to wash so much cash.”
