When we entered, the room smelled of cigar smoke. An unsmiling man with small, dark eyes sat behind a large wooden desk. As Lucas had predicted, there were two additional guards in the room. One with a bushy mustache had stationed himself in the corner behind the man at the desk. The other, bald, was off to our left with his arms crossed.
Lucas took position on the left, near Baldy, and I stood to his right, with Duke farther right. Candice and Winston flanked Tall and Short until they left the room, giving us the numerical advantage Lucas had predicted.
Mentally, I thanked Lucas for the spot he’d given me. If anything happened, we’d split the room into sectors, as we’d all trained. He would take care of the guy on the left, Duke the guy against the back wall, and I had the bossman behind the desk, whoever he was. He didn’t match the picture of Tony Russo we’d been shown.
“Lucas Hawk, is it? I’ve been expecting you,” the man behind the desk said, addressing me. Expecting us, but not knowing what Lucas looked like, was a rookie mistake. He motioned to the two chairs in front of the desk. “I’m Victor Russo.”
Mustache Man behind him chuckled.
“I’m here to see Tony,” Lucas announced.
Victor steepled his hands, shifting his gaze to Lucas. “He’s busy. I’m handling this matter for my father.”
“I understand you’re looking for Elliot Boyle,” Lucas said. “Why?”
“He took something that doesn’t belong to him.”
“What?” Lucas asked.
Victor shook his head dismissively. “That’s not your concern.”
Lucas shrugged. “You don’t want to know where it is, then?”
Instantly interested, Victor sat up. “Where?”
“My investigators are top notch,” Lucas replied. “I may be able to assist you.”
Victor fidgeted and gave in. “He was supposed to make a delivery for us. He disappeared with the package. My customer is not happy.”
“Send another.”
“It can’t be replaced, and my customer has already paid half.”
“Tell him to wait while you find the guy. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later.”
“These people are not the kind you say that to.” Victor’s face and his words telegraphed actual fear.
“How valuable?” Lucas asked.
“Not your concern.”
“Do you want our help or not?”
Victor contemplated the offer. “Ten million.”
I swallowed a laugh. Victor was an idiot to entrust Elliot with anything that valuable. “What does the package look like?”
“A metal briefcase.”
“The exploding kind?” Lucas asked.
Baldy laughed.
Victor grinned. “Not your concern.”
“What’s in it?” Lucas asked.
“Still not your concern,” he shot back.