Danny's smile was filled with sarcasm. "It seems even your most loyal followers have abandoned you. You still won't come with us?"
"Damn it!" Moretti II stormed back, his expression visibly timid. "The whole club is empty. Not a soul."
"Maybe we should get out of here as soon as possible. Maybe the Laiya guys will rush in and take out these three idiots, and then the gang war will be over."
Fusco goaded Danny from the side. "There's no need for us to get involved. It's a good thing for this city if these guys die."
"No, I'll go with you." Grifoni,
who had been sitting there quietly, hurriedly stood up after noticing that no one answered the calls he had made to his phone.
At this point, it would be foolish for him not to realize that he had been deserted by everyone. These two NYPD officers before him were his lifeline!
With the first person wavering, the remaining two naturally followed suit. Soon, the three mafia bosses, protected by Danny and Fusco, exited the seemingly deserted club.
"They're gone," Aubrey rapped forcefully on the iron door leading to the kitchen in the club's back alley.
The door creaked open, and Clay, rubbing his aching wrist, half-stepped aside. In the kitchen behind him lay over twenty gang members and cooks, their hands and feet bound like dumplings with plastic ties. Each one had a bruised face and even a bloody head.
Reese stood nearby, clutching a frying pan with a bent handle, a murderous look on his face. The burly man at his feet had fallen into a sweet sleep, his calves twitching with joy, perhaps from a good dream.
While the two men, each with a few bruises on their faces and lips, looked as if nothing had happened. Not even a wrinkle appeared on his suit, and he even had the leisure to savor the seafood porridge simmering on the stove.
The notion of being "deserted by friends and family" was, of course, an illusion. Perhaps the three Mafia bosses did have some of Laia's men around them, but to say they all suddenly betrayed them was an exaggeration.
The private meeting room was perfectly soundproofed; when Jack, Clay, and Reese burst in and indiscriminately assaulted the thugs and bodyguards, the screams didn't alert anyone inside.
Although Moretti II and his colleagues carried cell phones because it was an emergency evening meeting, Finch knew that with just one phone under his control, it was only a matter of time before he could compromise any other within a ten-meter radius.
The two NYPD detectives stood at the door for nearly ten minutes before entering. Only after receiving Finch's confirmation did Danny forcefully kick the door open.
With a phone controlled by Finch, dialing was a matter of his discretion; if necessary, even a 911 call would go unanswered.
While the primary reason was that Leah had killed two of their allies in less than a day, leaving the remaining three in a state of disarray, the atmosphere of alienation and estrangement Jack had deliberately created also played a significant role, forcing them to accept Danny's protection.
At midnight, the Wrangler parked at an abandoned warehouse complex east of Queens. After Danny hid the car, he led the group up to the second floor.
Watching him expertly enter the code into the iron gate, Moretti II, who had been glancing around the entire way, asked in confusion, "What is this place?"
"An abandoned art warehouse." With a creaking sound, Danny pushed open the heavy iron door, revealing a large room filled with miscellaneous items. A
dusty suit of medieval armor sat in the corner, a valuable-looking Victorian dresser sat by the window, and there was even a pool table in the center.
"There's a restroom at the back. There's fresh food and water in the refrigerator over there. Please help yourself." Danny found a worn sofa, dusted it off casually, and sat down.
Moretti II looked around at the rough red brick walls, then back at the seemingly sturdy iron door, still feeling a bit uneasy. "How long will we stay here? Are there only the two of you here to protect us?"
"Of course, until my father captures Leah. As for why it's just the two of us, it's because the fewer people who know your location, the better. You've worked with HR before, right?
You should know that HR's people are now completely bribed by Leah, and those corrupt cops are also looking for you."
Danny threw out his long-prepared excuse.
"But this also means that if Leah finds us, we'll all die here. Your father is an incompetent piece of shit. He has no idea how deeply HR is hidden in his police station. You won't get any support,"
Zambrano said angrily, pouring cold water on the situation.
Danny remained unmoved and raised an eyebrow at him. "Then you might as well tell me the details so we can round them up later."
The
FBI's operations center at the Federal Building was busier than ever tonight, with nearly all of its field agents deployed.
The logistics agents responsible for providing intelligence support were also glued to their computer screens, frequently pressing the call button on their headsets to stay in touch with the operations team out front.
Dana Moger sat in the seat closest to the big screen. Behind her stood Jubal, accustomed to field work, who was feeling a bit uneasy at being in the backroom.
"Ma'am, Leah should have received the intelligence from HR by now, but his men haven't made any moves yet."
Dana Moger glanced up at the time. It was two in the morning, her expression unfazed. "Leah won't miss this opportunity. Just keep an eye on him. He's much more anxious than we are."
A flurry of footsteps echoed. Frank Reagan, always dressed formally, changed into casual clothes today and hurried into the command center with his youngest son, James, also out of uniform.
"What's the situation?" The Chief, slightly out of breath from his rapid pace,
asked. Jubal nodded slightly. "We've identified sixty-five individuals, including the four on duty at the 911 center and the main station. The patrol officers on night duty are all being monitored by our field team."
Chief Reagan's face was grim. Although he had been prepared for this, the sheer number still made him feel dizzy.
These 65 individuals only refer to the patrol officers who were paid to assist Laria in searching for the three missing mafia bosses during their day and night shifts. They do not include their superiors, including captains, inspectors, and even superintendents.
(End of this chapter)