Page 9 of Operation Wolf: Eli
CHAPTER 4
Eli
“I LOVE COMING TOthis place,” Ian gushed as we entered the Green Mill.
I ignored him as I pressed a handful of bills into the bouncer’s hand for allowing us to skip the line curving around the block—not that I needed to since we were feared, but I found it was always best to cultivate goodwill where I could.
“Just the idea of sitting in the same bar as Al Capone, sipping whiskey or rum, now that’s fucking awesome!”
“Shut up,” I growled, grabbing Ian by the elbow and steering him through the smoky, crowded interior to one of the half-circle, green-upholstered booths near the stage.
The jazz band was playing “Rain Dance” by Herbie Hancock with considerable gusto, and the place, as usual, was packed to the gills.
“You’re not having a drop of alcohol tonight. Do you hear me? We’re sitting down, getting the info on the job, and getting the fuck out. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Ian retorted sulkily.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Between the smoke and the dim lights, it was usually extremely difficult to navigate the place once it was in full swing, but my superior senses guided us to Nick’s table without a problem.
“Hey, boys!” Nick stood up from the table and opened his arms. He was a stocky man with a swarthy complexion, receding hairline, and blue-gray eyes that could turn from a happy sparkle to cold steel in a nanosecond. “Really glad you both could make it down here,” he said as I dutifully embraced him, as if it had been a request rather than an order.
He pulled back and gestured to the tall man still seated in the booth. He looked like a lawyer, dressed in a pin-striped suit with a hat that did a decent job of covering what I knew to be a balding scalp. Like Nick, he too had a swarthy complexion, but his eyes were shrewd, and he shared none of his capo’s joviality.
“This here is Jack Carideo, whom you might know already,” Nick explained. “I answer to him, which therefore means you answer to him. Understand?”
“Understood,” Ian and I said in unison, respectively inclining our heads.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Ian added.
I fought the urge to kick the sycophantic bastard.
“Sit down, boys,” Carideo ordered, sounding bored.
We sidled in on the far side of the booth, trying to maintain a respectful distance without also having to touch each other, not an easy task in a semicircular booth.
“You want anything to drink?” He signaled the bartender.
“No, thank you,” I interjected quickly before Ian could open his mouth. “My friend and I have to stay sharp tonight.”
I stomped on Ian’s foot beneath the table to silence him, and Ian yelped.
“Yes, sir,” Ian babbled, shooting me a sulky glare. “We’ve got work to do tonight.”
Carideo simply nodded and then turned to Nick. “I’ll let you do the talking, Nick.”
Nick nodded and then pulled out a small photograph and slid it across the table. “This is the target.”
Shock slammed into my gut like a physical blow as I stared down at Olivia’s photo. “We’re going after Sal Giordano’s daughter?” I asked carefully, pressing my foot down on top of Ian’s sore one as a warning for him to stay quiet. Ian knew about some of my past with Olivia, and if the bastard blew this for me, I would have to kill him. “I thought he was one of us.”
“He has been with us for a long time,” Carideo answered coldly, “but Sal’s gotten a bit too greedy and sloppy these last couple of years. The higher-ups set him up with running casinos out of South America, and the bastard’s been refusing to share his profits with the Outfit. We’re hoping to make him reconsider . . . for the sake of his daughter.”
“I see.” I glanced down at the photograph again, wondering how the hell I was going to get her out of this mess. I knew if I didn’t do the job, someone else would just be sent in my place. So I had to do something . . . but what? “I’m surprised you picked me for this job, sir. I’ve never done a kidnapping for the Outfit before.”
“Maybe not, but as I understand it, you spent some time with Sal’s daughter as a kid,” Nick said, leaning forward on the table. “In fact, you live in the same apartment complex, don’t you?”
“I do,” I bit out, unable to keep the stiffness from my voice.
“Excellent.” Nick bared his teeth in a sharklike grin. “That makes you perfect for the job. Now, as far as I know, the girl’s out of town, but she should be back tomorrow night. As soon as she gets in, I want the two of you to snag her—no muss, no fuss—and bring her here.” He pulled out a map and circled one of the seemingly abandoned warehouses the Outfit owned under a fictitious name. “Any questions, gentlemen?”
