Page 22 of Code Name: Grit

O’Roarke was gone when we returned to his office, so I kept watch through the glass walls while Grit pulled up the shipping manifests on the computer. He motioned me over, pointing to a series of entries.

“Advanced weapons systems,” he murmured. “Military-grade, with modifications.” He scrolled down. “There’s more. These adjacent containers hold pharmaceutical compounds with street values in the millions.”

I studied the screen. “The Belcastros aren’t as well known for major drug trafficking. That’s more the Mazzeos’ territory.”

“Given they’re out of business too, maybe Cassio is diversifying.”

I nodded. “We have enough intel. We should get out of here.”

As we left O’Roarke’s office, I spotted the same dock worker who’d appeared to recognize me earlier. He was speaking into a radio, his eyes fixed on us.

“Grit,” I whispered, “we need to leave. Now.”

He caught my urgency and guided me toward the exit without breaking stride. “What’s wrong?”

“The guy from earlier—he’s watching us.”

We maintained our cover, smiling and nodding to security as we passed the checkpoint. Only when we reached our vehicle did Grit’s professional mask slip, revealing the concern beneath.

“Did he follow us?”

I scanned the area. “No, but he’s definitely suspicious. Of me anyway.”

Grit started the engine, pulling away from the terminal at a deliberate, unhurried pace. “We’ve got enough for now?—”

“We don’t. We need to know what’s in those containers and how they connect to the other Belcastro operations.”

“Not at the risk of exposure.”

“Based on what I overheard, the shipments are scheduled to arrive tomorrow night. If we don’t return, O’Roarke will think?—”

“We’ll tell him we got all we needed, and we’ll be in touch with our recommendations.”

“But—”

“Dammit, Chiara!I don’t want you within a mile of that terminal.” The outburst, along with him cutting me off twice in a row, was so unlike him that it stunned me.

“Then, why am I even here?”

“We can shift our focus to Belcastro’s other operations—the protection rackets in Little Italy or the gambling operations in Queens. The support team still here can handle surveillance when the shipments arrive.”

My mouth gaped, and I shook my head, too livid to speak.

“If Cassio Belcastro discovers who you are?—”

“He won’t,” I snapped.

“You don’t know that.” His voice dropped, the anger replaced by what sounded more like fear. “I lost someone once before.”

The admission was raw and unexpected, but before I could respond, my phone vibrated with a message from Dragon.Additional intel received. Make contact ASAP.

I reiterated her request and waited for him to continue telling me about the person he’d lost, but he’d gone silent.

Wanting to distract myself, I responded to Dragon, saying we’d be in touch when we were at the hotel, then uploaded the photos I’d taken to the secure server.

Once we’d returnedto the room, our professional disagreement resurfaced the moment the door closed.

“You can’t just ignore direct orders in the field,” Grit said, pacing the length of the living room.

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