~ Massimo ~
Don Giacomo didn't answer right away.
He reached for a fresh cigar, the gold of his lighter sparking and casting shadows against the deep mahogany of the walls.
He took a long, slow drag, the end of the cigar glowing like an angry ember in the dim room.
"It's simple, Massimo," my father finally said, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted toward the ceiling.
"Aurelio knows exactly where the Yakuza have set up shop in San Marcos but we aren't going in with a battalion. Not yet. We send a ghost—one of our soldiers, or maybe two, who know how to be very stealthy.
"They check out their casinos, or they pretend to be looking for a score at one of their drug dens. They keep their ears open and their mouths shut."
He leaned forward, the intensity in his eyes making the air feel heavy.
