Chapter 5: The Man Who Knew Too Much
"That's not possible," Joseph said.
"Renzo just called.
One of Caine's cars passed the block twice in the last ten minutes." Marco held up his phone.
"Renzo's outside.
He clocked them."
Joseph stood.
I kept the phone to my ear.
"Mom.
I have to go."
"Audrey—"
"I'll call you when I can.
Don't go home tonight.
Go to Aunt Patricia's.
Don't tell anyone where you are." I paused.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes." A breath.
"Be careful."
I ended the call and looked at Joseph.
"How does Caine know about this place?"
"He shouldn't." Joseph was already moving toward Marco.
"Who else has this address?"
"Four people.
All mine.
All trusted."
"One of them isn't." Joseph said it without hesitation.
No visible anger.
Just a man recalculating.
"Pull everyone's movement for the last seventy-two hours.
Start with whoever was on logistics this week."
"That's Danny."
Something crossed Joseph's face.
Brief.
Gone.
"Find Danny," he said.
"Quietly."
Marco stepped outside to make the call.
I stood up.
"What do we do right now?"
"We move." Joseph looked around the room once — taking inventory of something I couldn't see.
"There's another location.
Only two people know it.
Me and a man named Renzo, who is currently sitting outside this building watching Caine's car."
"And you trust him."
"With my life.
Repeatedly."
"That's not the same as trusting him with mine."
Joseph looked at me.
"No.
It isn't." He didn't try to reassure me.
"But right now, it's what we have."
The back door opened and Renzo stepped in — a compact man in his fifties with a gray beard and careful eyes.
He looked at Joseph first, then at me.
His expression didn't change, but he took me in completely in about two seconds.
"She looks like you did at that age," he said to Joseph.
"Don't," Joseph said.
"I'm just saying."
"Renzo."
"Car's still on the block.
Passenger side window came down for about thirty seconds.
Someone was photographing the front of the building." Renzo pulled his jacket straight.
"We should go."
"The Halsted property," Joseph said.
Renzo nodded once.
"I'll drive."
We moved through the back of the building, through a utility corridor, and out into a different alley than the one we'd arrived through.
A plain gray sedan waited.
No plates visible from the angle we approached.
I got in the back with Joseph.
Renzo drove.
Nobody spoke for several blocks.
Then I said: "Victor Caine.
Tell me about him."
Joseph looked out the window.
"He built his operation in Detroit.
Moved into Chicago twelve years ago.
We've had — disagreements — over territory, contracts, certain business arrangements."
"Disagreements," I repeated.
"He kjlled two of my people," Joseph said flatly.
"I responded.
It's been a cold war for the last seven years.
Neither of us moves directly against the other because the cost is too high for both sides."
"Until now."
"Until now." He turned from the window.
"Using you changes the equation for him.
He doesn't have to move against me directly.
He just has to make me react."
"And if you react—"
"I make mistakes.
I expose people.
I give him something to work with." Joseph's voice was measured.
"I've survived this long because I don't react.
I respond.
There's a difference."
"What's the difference?"
"Reacting is emotional.
Responding is deliberate." He paused.
"You staying calm in that restaurant tonight — not running, not making a scene, asking the right questions — that was responding."
I hadn't thought of it that way.
"I was terrified," I said.
"I know.
You didn't show it."
Renzo turned onto a side street.
The city thinned around us — fewer lights, wider gaps between buildings.
"There's something else," Joseph said.
I waited.
"Caine reached out to your mother three days ago.
But my people picked up movement around the Golden Crown six days ago." He let that land.
"He knew you were working there before he contacted Rose."
I went still.
"He was watching me first," I said.
"Before he even warned her."
"Yes."
"Which means warning her wasn't really a warning."
"No," Joseph said.
"It was a test.
He wanted to see if she would run.
If she would contact me.
If she would pull you out of the restaurant." He paused.
"She did none of those things.
She sent you one message and waited."
"She was protecting you," I said.
I wasn't sure if I meant it as a defense or an accusation.
Joseph said nothing.
Renzo pulled the car to a stop in front of a narrow building between a closed hardware store and a laundromat.
Dark windows.
Nothing to distinguish it.
"We're here," Renzo said.
Joseph reached for the door handle.
Then stopped.
His phone was ringing.
He looked at the screen.
His expression didn't change, but his hand went still.
May you like
He turned the phone so I could see the name on the screen.
*Victor Caine.*
