At least Central Park is nice this time of year. We stroll down the path together, and I could forgive most of the people around us for not looking twice. We’re in suits, but so are a dozen other people, mostly office workers on their lunch breaks. None of them know one of the most important meetings in this city’s history is about to go down.
We all know what’s going to happen. Finn knows and I do too. The Baranovs haven’t given us any reason to negotiate, even if Declan thinks we need to hear them out. The message showed up two days ago, inviting us to come here on a crowded, public day, where nobody could try anything stupid. I’m pretty sure Finn wanted Cormac to come and kill anyone in a hundred yards, innocents be damned, but we’re doing this instead.
I’d almost prefer the mass murder.
Luckily, none of the high-ranking Whelans were killed at the Saint Stephen’s attack. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be possible. There’d be no other option but to burn the Russians down, their blackmail material be damned.
“Know what you’re going to say?” I ask as we approach the settled meeting spot. A big fountain dominates the space; a man’s loudly playing an electric violin near an echoing tunnel.
“I’m going to be very polite.” Finn’s expression suggests that isn’t the case. “We still need to know exactly what they have and what they plan on doing with it.”
“If Regan was right, they have everything.”
His eyes stray to me. “Let’s hope she’s not.”
I spot him sitting on a bench alone at the edge of the crowd. I nod in his direction and Finn takes the lead. Max Baranov lounges with his ankles crossed and his hands knotted in his lap, looking for all the world like he’s half asleep.
But I know him better than that.
The Baranovs are bad news. They’re like cornered snakes: always looking to bite, no matter what. Max is the worst of them. He delights in violence in ways even I find distasteful, and I enjoy a good fight. Only it’s the struggle I like, not the nasty after effects.
I’m pretty sure if Max weren’t leashed by his family’s influence, he’d be a very successful serial killer.
“Hello, Finn Whelan.” He smiles politely at my boss. His eyes roll to me. “I see you brought your bag man. Hello, Liam.”
“Max.” Finn does the talking. He sits down beside the Baranov son. I stand to the side of the bench, scanning the busy park for any sign of enemy soldiers. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they’re not around. I doubt Max is stupid and arrogant enough to leave backup behind.
“I’m glad you decided to meet with me.” Max doesn’t change his posture. He seems wholly at ease. “I apologize for all that unpleasantness the other night.”
“You mean when your family tried to kill mine? Fine. All forgiven.” Finn’s charming smile is boyish and convincing, but I know him better than to be fooled. He covers his viciousness with that easy grin.
“Glad to hear it. We can all be reasonable men, can’t we?” Max cocks his head sideways like a lizard tasting the air. “The truth is, my father lucked into a treasure trove recently. Let’s say some documents made their way to his desk, documents which I believe you’ve recently seen?”
“We were made aware of something like that.”
“Yes, I suppose you were. Despite warnings.” Max's eyes find mine. I remain calm, inwardly daring him to mention Regan. “However, bygones are bygones and all that. What we’re here to discuss is a realistic cease to hostilities.”
“From my perspective, only you have been hostile so far. Your family seems very eager for a war.”
“On the contrary. We don’t want a fight with the mighty Whelan clan at all. We’re but a poor, small organization, doing our best to survive in this cut throat city. I’m sure you both understand.” Max’s lips pull back. I can’t tell if it’s meant to be a grimace or a scream. I suspect a bit of both. “My father sent terms, but between us, I don’t think you’ll take them. Still, I’m obligated to give it a try, so let’s get this over with, shall we?” He sits up straight, body tensing as his fingers grip the edge of the bench. My hand drifts to my jacket, itching to grab the small gun I have hidden there.
Max holds up a finger. “First demand: vacate Brooklyn. Cede control of the entire borough over to my father. Simple, right?”
Finn’s nose twitches and wrinkles. “What else?”
“Second demand: dismantle your car smuggling activities. My father wants that entire industry to himself. He’s something of a motor head.”
“Reasonable. And?”
“Third and final demand: splinter the Whelan operations. Sever any ties you have to the Corrigans and their laundering activities. I know, I know, you did this whole arranged marriage thing, but what does that matter? My father thinks you’ve got too much influence, and I agree. We’re only trying to knock you down a step, don’t worry.”
Finn dips his chin as if this is all utterly expected. While inwardly I’m ringing like a bell.
There’s no fuckingwaythe Whelans are ever going to give in to any of those demands. If they let the Baranovs boss them around, that’ll only spell disaster for them everywhere else. The other gangs and families will never leave us alone. We’ll look weak, and in this world, weakness is death.
“That’s everything? Seems like you really thought this through.” Finn grunts as he shoves himself to his feet. “I’ll talk to Declan and see what he thinks.”
“Don’t insult me. We both know this isn’t going to happen. My father’s more optimistic, he thinks you’ll come back with a counter offer, and we’ll go from there. But the truth is, Finn?” Max leans in, smiling happily like he’s telling a very good joke. “I don’t want peace. I’ve been soboredof peace. That’s why I sent my very good friends to your celebration. Wasn’t it so muchfun?”
