Page 59 of Code Name: Grit

Then, through the lens, I watched as Marco slid an envelope across the table to Keller. Unlike the others who’d tucked similar envelopes discreetly into their jackets, Keller opened his, counting the contents before pocketing it.

“Sonuvabitch,”I breathed, capturing the moment with multiple shots.

“Got him,” Tank repeated.

I was about to comment when movement on the rooftop across from us caught my eye. I adjusted my focus and felt my blood freeze.

“We’ve got company,” I said quietly. “Northeast rooftop, two o’clock.”

Tank shifted his gaze. “Shit. Two motherfuckers. Who the hell are they?”

Through my lens, I could make out the distinctive shoulder tattoo visible on one of the men—a stylized letter P surrounded by thorns. Patriarca soldiers.

“They’re watching the same meeting we are,” I said.

“Why would the Patriarcas care about Belcastro money laundering? Seems like the least of what they’d want to go after. I mean, money follows everything else.”

I had no answer, but my instinct told me this complicated an already dangerous situation. “We need to pull back. If they’ve spotted us?—”

One of the men on the roof raised what appeared to be a radio to his mouth, his gaze sweeping in our direction.

“Time to go,” I ordered. “We’re sitting ducks over here.”

We disassembled our equipment, leaving no trace of our presence. As we exited the building through a service entrance, I kept watch for any signs we were being followed, but the Patriarca observers appeared to remain focused on the club.

“Patriarcas running counterintelligence on the Belcastros,” Tank said as we accelerated away from the scene. “That’s not standard territorial warfare.”

“This suggests prior intelligence they’re acting on,” I agreed, keeping my eyes on the mirrors for tails. “They had advance notice of the meeting.”

We took an indirect route to the helipad, employing anti-surveillance protocols despite there being no visible signs of pursuit.

During the two-hour flight back,Tank and I analyzed possible scenarios. “If the Patriarcas are mounting a comprehensive intelligence operation rather than just muscle, they’re planning something far more strategic than a standard territory grab.”

We touched down at Canada Lake at fourteen hundred hours to find heightened activity. Alice intercepted us before we reached the boathouse command center, her expression controlled but urgent.

“Security alert,” she said, falling into step beside us. “Everyone’s in the command center.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Belcastro communications show coordinated movement across four boroughs. And we’ve confirmed Patriarca vehicles gathering along the Connecticut border—approximately eighteen tracked via satellite.”

The main room was buzzing when we entered. Teams had been formed to work on separate intelligence streams while Atticus monitored the external feeds. My eyes found Lumi immediately—her posture was still tense from our argument, but her focus remained entirely on the data scrolling across her screen.

Admiral took the memory card I handed him. “Thoughts?”

“Documented proof of Venutti paying Keller. But more importantly, Patriarca observers were watching the same meeting.”

“Timing?”

“They were in position shortly after we arrived,” I said. “Suggests they knew the meeting was happening.”

Admiral’s eyes narrowed. “That matches what we’ve found. Dragon?”

She transferred her findings to the main display—a map showing movement patterns and heat signatures.

“Patriarca leadership gathered at this estate forty minutes ago.” She indicated a property north of Danbury. “Satellite confirms Rafael Patriarca himself plus three lieutenants and about thirty-six foot soldiers.”

“They’re setting up for a coordinated strike,” I suggested.

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