No Room For Weak Links.

                                        

                                              
CHAPTER: 20
*
Castle.
The scent of cigar smoke lingered heavily in the air, curling toward the cathedral ceiling as I took a drag of a Behike 56.
We were deep inside the back chamber of La Iglesia. The light was low, but the tension was even lower.
Around the round table sat the four heads of New York's organized underworld, all dragging a breath of smoke. 
Rowan Casablanca, calm and silent as ever. 
Raymond D'Onofrio, whose patience could never be trusted and whose tongue was loose when drunk. 
Fernando Reyes, lean and sharp with eyes that missed nothing. 
And seated to my left—Kaito Tanaka, the quietest of the four, but easily the most dangerous.
There was an empty seat for Dean Rosa, and I was frustrated with what I had gotten from the informant. It was definitely not what I expected, and at the same time, it was more than expected.
I didn't bother with small talk. We all knew that we didn't gather under this roof unless it was serious.
"The cleanup crew is done with the snitch," I said, leaning forward, my elbows on the carved mahogany. "But we have a bigger issue now."
Four heads turned to me with equal parts of wariness and calculation.
"There's been no trace of Dean Rosa," I said. "Luciano claimed he was in witness protection, but if that's true, the CID would've had some involvement. We've got zero confirmation. So it's either Luciano lied before I slit him open, or there's more to this."
Kaito tilted his head. "So you're suggesting Rosa has ghosted us and his gang members?"
"Yes. Or... he's being kept somewhere off the grid." I let the pause hang just long enough. "Which means we might need someone inside the FBI. Just to be sure."
"I've already got someone," Fernando cut in smoothly, exhaling smoke through his mouth. "Daniel Flair. He's a new FBI agent, maybe two years into it. He's young and sloppy, but he's eager to please. I can ask him to find out what he knows about Rosa."
I gave a short nod. "Do that, but be discreet about it."
I let that settle before shifting the conversation.
"There's a second matter," I said. "And it's worse."
Four pairs of eyes watched me now with the kind of stillness that made it clear that they knew that whatever I was about to say was going to land like a bomb.
And they would be right.
"A Judge is dead—Judge Mendez. A federal judge."
I let that sink in before I continued. "She was stabbed brutally. And according to the CID informant I wrung out before putting down, someone from our world—one of our own—was involved."
There was a beat of silence as they processed my words.
Raymond frowned and broke the silence. "You're sure?"
"The informant wasn't certain about names, but there was a witness. The judge's housekeeper. She's scared shitless, but still breathing. And... the FBI has taken over the case which makes it federal." 
I took another puff of my Cuban cigar. "And if that witness remembers anything useful, it's only a matter of time."
Rowan tapped his fingers against the table slowly. "You think the Feds will tie it back to us?"