“I knew you were a reasonable man.”
Maverick’s expression never changes.
“Reasonable,” he says softly, “is not the word I would use.”
Clinton doesn’t catch it.
He offers his hand.
Maverick looks at it for a full two seconds before standing and offering a very short shake.
“Tomorrow evening,” Clinton says. “I’ll send coordinates.”
“You will be contacted,” Maverick replies.
The doors open for Clinton, and he walks out smiling.
Confident…Satisfied.
Like he just secured himself a future.
The doors shut again, and silence lingers for half a breath.
“Well,” Spike mutters.
“He wants our western lanes,” I say flatly.
“And he overplayed his knowledge,” Maverick replies quietly. The calm is gone now. What’s left is cold calculation. “He knew more than the rumor we released. The arrangement with the Shadows was never mentioned publicly.”
A hidden door along the far wall opens, and Stefano steps through.
“Only one faction would have known who supplied those weapons,” he says evenly. “The men who pointed us toward the Shadows in the first place.”
Spike’s jaw tightens. “Was Clinton the man you dealt with?”
“No,” Stefano answers. “The man I spoke to was named Martello. He made the introduction. Clinton is merely a front. I already have Martello being looked into.”
Foster steps into the room, eyes on his phone.
“You’ll want to see this,” he says, holding it up. “Martello owns a shell company registered in New York. That shell company is linked to the same supplier the Shadows bought from.”
“Meaning?” Maverick asks slowly.
“Our New York supplier and your introduction contact are the same operation.”
Skip frowns.
“Let me see that.”
Foster hands him the phone, and Skip stares at the screen for two seconds before his expression darkens.
“That motherfucker,” he says quietly. “I met him face to face. He’s the one who ‘cut us a deal’ on those guns. Overpriced as hell, but he claimed premium steel. Talked like he was doing us a favor.”
“And he knew the buyer would be us,” Maverick says softly.
“So he sells us defective weapons,” Bones says calmly, “knowing the buyer is the Moretti family.”
“And when they misfire,” I continue, “he waits for the fallout. Then sends Clinton in to swoop in with an ‘offer.’”
