Page 78 of Consumed By the Mafia

“I’ve done it before,” Ryoma replied.

“Mikey’s,” Cris grunted. “Just go there. He’ll have everything we need.”

Ryoma nodded, waited until Felicity had scrambled in and yanked the door shut behind herself, then jumped into the driver’s seat. His muscles protested, but it wasn’t his driving leg that had been hit and he’d be out already if either bullet had hit an artery. That was going to have to be good enough for the next ten to twenty minutes. “Both of you hang on.”

“Here’s that list,” the man Iris had introduced as Norberto said, holding a plain folder out for Abigail to take.

Abigail stared at it for a single second before accepting the folder and flipping it open. Inside was a multipage printout of every named Ink Blot, known member of the Irish mob, and other similarly inclined associate of Brendan Coughlan that Chief Silva had given up. He’d learned a lot in the seven months he’d been spying for the man, it seemed.

Silva claimed he had been helping keep Ink Blots on the streets and out of jail, that he’d been keeping watch for any useful information the De Salvos might drop. Things that could lead to vulnerabilities, in any aspect of their lives. He’d worked to slow police response if the De Salvos should actually reach out—which they had, a couple of times, indirectly. He’d pressured men he had no justification to pressure and he went easy on men he shouldn’t. He’d spilled it all in exchange for his own protection.

He’d also spilled how he had met Brendan Coughlan, close to two years prior, and how the man had made an effort to strike up a camaraderie with him. He’d thought it strange, because Coughlan had immediately reminded him of Dante. But he’d liked having a man like that as an ally, a confidant, so he’d embraced it, and it was a while before he’d realized he was being manipulated. It was longer before he considered that he should be gathering information to save his own skin.

Even with all of that, and considering that Coughlan must have kept certain things from the police chief, Silva had given them a list of names that was practically three pages long. It would take a long time or a lot of people to round up and arrest this many.

“And here’s the recorder,” Norberto said, setting a recording device on top of the open file.

Abigail pulled herself back into the moment. “You finished already?” She knew what was stored on her phone was automatically uploaded onto Mikey’s network, and it didn’t surprise her that Mikey’s trusted team had access to that content. Today that was working in her favor. In all of their favor.

Iris had brought them to Mikey’s company, DS Security Solutions, and taken her to the underground headquarters Abigail had never known existed. The over-the-top space he used to monitor and secure the digital end of the De Salvo empire. It was equal parts beautiful and daunting, like something out of a movie.

And the small handful of men allowed to work in that space were, apparently, geniuses capable of doing speed-runs on long interrogation recordings in order to edit out the bits that might incriminate the De Salvo family. In such a way as to assure the end result sounded and tested like an authentic original recording of its own.

Definitely terrifying.

“Triple-checked to make sure we covered the critical stuff,” Norberto said, nodding to the woman standing a few feet to Abigail’s side. “As it reads, Coughlan’s a dangerous, violent, and deranged bastard looking to destroy anyone powerful enough to challenge him. And maybe everyone else just for fun. Boss is a powerful figure around here publicly, so Coughlan hates his success—there’s something like that in there, and we left it. But we left a bunch of little things about him wanting control and mayhem, so it’ll blend.”

Abigail nodded. If he’d done what he said, it would definitely sound like a madman aiming for maximum carnage. Especially with a list that included far too many corrupt law officials to easily swallow. There was just one thing still gnawing at her. One thing that felt forgotten.

She pulled the recorder out, flipped the folder closed, and tucked everything against her chest in order to keep herselffrom staring uselessly at it all. “I didn’t recognize any of Silva’s leaked names as FBI,” she said, “but there has to be someone with federal access involved somehow. My identity wasn’t widely known, even in the bureau.”

Norberto shrugged. “We’re good, but we can’t read minds. We need more than that.”

Abigail chewed the inside of her cheek for a second, arguing with herself.

Iris spoke up, her voice a quiet calm. “Wasn’t it your instinct that led you to decide to bring in Silva? We might have lost people we love very much today if not for that voice.”

Abigail glanced over at the other woman, briefly surprised. She’d had the distinct impression Iris hadn’t yet decided to trust her. Not that that was a unique opinion.She’s also right.Silva had given them their only warning, no matter how reluctantly. So Abigail gave herself a shake and looked forward again. “Can you please look into Special Agent Paige Mercer? She’s my supervisor, and one of a small number of people who’s had access to most of my basic information from the start. But I don’t trust her.”

Norberto glanced toward Iris for a beat, then nodded. “Yep, we can do that. Gonna take us some time, though.”

“Time we don’t have,” Iris said.

“I understand.” Abigail indicated her armload. “If I could borrow an SUV, or any other legal vehicle, it would be best if I arrive solo. I’ll get started on the takedown. If you find anything about Mercer, I have my phone, and if you can’t safely reach me that way—” She turned enough to meet Iris’s stare. “I’ll trust you to make the judgment call.” It was theonly way. The larger operation was more important than one individual, no matter how much that individual got on her nerves.

Iris inclined her head and said, “Someone get Agent Fitzgerald a vehicle.”

Abigail offered a twitch of her lips in gratitude before following one of the men in suits into the elevator and up to the parking lot, where he handed her keys and actually bid her good luck. The fact that he sounded entirely serious made her both nervous and optimistic. She dragged in a breath, marched to the SUV that responded to the click of the fob, and settled behind the wheel. Only then did she roll the engine over and pull up a conference call with Mercer and Albert—just to be safe.

Granted, conference calling the head of the Newark FBI without notice required luck all its own. So she was more than a little surprised when he answered first. “Fitzgerald, please tell me you know something that will let us get involved with this—”

“Why are you calling, Fitzgerald?” Mercer snapped as her line connected.

Both paused, realizing they’d heard unexpected voices.

Abigail felt the odd urge to laugh nervously and shoved it down. “Sorry, I thought a joint call would be easiest. You’re both aware I was chatting with Silva today, and he had more information than I expected. I’m coming in with a list of names pulled from his confession, as well as the recorded confession itself. This is going to be a headache, but if we pull it off, it will be a very, very good day for us.”

“Do you even understand how outrageous that sounds?” Mercer said sharply.

---