Page 47 of Last Hand

“Santos’s. I just need to warn him now and hope he doesn’t want to go to war.” I walk toward the door, plans already forming.

As we step out into the night air, I feel the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. One problem potentially solved. Now I just need to ensure Santos is prepared.

The board is set. The pieces are moving. By this time tomorrow, Reyes will be dead, Mikhail will be temporarily satisfied, and Santos will still consider me an ally, hopefully.

Not bad for a day’s work.

I check my watch; midnight as I dial Santos’s private number. It’s a calculated move, calling at this hour. Late enough to signal urgency, not so late that he’ll be unreachable. Santos is a family man with rituals and routines, his wife and children sleeping in their fortified compound while he takes his last scotch of the night on the terrace, reviewing the day’s business. The predictability of powerful men can be their greatest weakness, and in this case, it serves my purpose. I need him clear-headed yet slightly off-balance.

Milo watches from across the room, his face half-shadowed in the dim light of my study. We’ve been partners long enough that he can read my intentions without words. He knows what’s at stake tonight.

Santos answers on the fourth ring. “Pressutti.” His voice is guarded, the slight accent more pronounced than usual. “It must be important for you to call at this hour.”

“It is.” I keep my tone measured, respectful while not deferential. “There’s a situation developing that concerns tomorrow’s shipment. One that requires immediate attention.”

A pause, then the sound of ice clinking against glass. “I’m listening.”

“The Russians are making moves,” I say, cutting straight to it. “Mikhail approached me directly. He wants your shipment intercepted.”

Santos’s breathing changes, becomes more controlled. “And you’re telling me this why? To warn me? Or to inform me of your intentions?”

“I’m telling you because our partnership has been profitable for both of us,” I reply. “And because Mikhail has underestimated both of us if he thinks I’d break faith over one shipment.”

“Noble sentiments,” Santos says, his tone dry as dust. “That doesn’t explain how Mikhail knows about a shipment that very few people are aware of.”

I expected this. Santos didn’t build an empire by being trusting.

“There’s a leak somewhere,” I admit. “Not on my end, but the information is out there. And it gets worse. I was asked to intercept the shipment.”

“Why would he come to you to do that?”

“He has Fallon.” I pause and so does he.

“He’s hoping to start a war between us.”

“Yes, and Diego Reyes and his crew are planning to hit the shipment tomorrow night.”

“Reyes?” The name comes out as a curse. “That dog doesn’t have the spine.”

“He does because he thinks he will get away with it since I gave him the dock number, arrival time, security rotations. He’s bringing at least fifteen men, heavy weapons.”

The line goes quiet for so long I wonder if we’ve been disconnected. Then Santos speaks, his voice deadly soft. “You did what?”

“I need it to look convincing and you don’t want your shipment stolen, so I’m sending him, killing two birds with one stone. Mikhail will think I organized it, you get to keep your shipment and wipe out Reyes.”

“So,” Santos says finally, “I have a business partner using local gangs to disrupt my business and calling to warn me.” He makes a sound that might be a laugh. “Why not just tell Mikhail you handled it? Take credit for a job you never did?”

“Because the moment that shipment arrives intact, he’d know I lied,” I explain. “And then we’d have open war with the Russians, which neither of us wants right now and my wife will be dead.”

“So what are you proposing?”

Now we reach the heart of it. I catch Milo’s eye across the room, giving him a slight nod.

“A dummy shipment,” I say. “Empty containers, minimal product, just enough to make it look legitimate. Let Reyes and his crew think they’re hitting the real thing. Your men will be waiting, along with mine. We wipe out Reyes and his entire operation in one night.”

“And the actual shipment?”

“Delayed by twenty-four hours. Different route, different dock. I’ll personally ensure its safe arrival.”

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