FBI New York Office.
Denham, dressed in a suit and wearing a pair of brand-new Italian handmade leather shoes, walked into the office lobby.
Along the way, colleagues greeted him warmly.
The news about the clothing factory incident had already spread throughout the bureau. The achievement of eliminating illegal mercenaries and capturing a Mafia boss along with several Mafia members would undoubtedly add a brilliant entry to Denham's résumé.
The future looked bright.
Denham responded politely to the congratulations. Back when he worked in the financial fraud division, he had never received this kind of treatment. On the contrary, his upright attitude had made many colleagues—those eager to make money on the side—deliberately avoid him.
Things were different now.
Denham knew the clothing factory incident was only the appetizer. Besides, the arrested Mafia members still hadn't been convicted because of the Mafia's infamous code of silence.
But there was no rush.
Scarpa had already provided a massive amount of evidence.
Every member of the Colombo family was implicated.
That was the real main course.
"Boss, coffee!"
The youngest member of the team hurried over and handed him a cup.
"I added five spoonfuls of sugar for you!"
"Thank you."
"Harry and the Omega team are waiting in the conference room."
"Got it."
Denham nodded.
At the moment, only he knew Joe Gallo's location. Scarpa was his confidential informant—a one-way contact, just like other undercover sources in the department.
No one else knew their identities.
No one else knew how much intelligence they held.
When Denham entered the conference room, he sat down and began discussing the East German mercenaries with the team.
Harry asked,
"Those mercenaries really came from East Germany?"
"The intelligence suggests that's correct," Denham replied.
"But we still haven't identified which mercenary group they belong to, or who their leader is. These men are extremely skilled. They'd rather die in battle than surrender."
The group's origins were incredibly mysterious. They had appeared in New York almost out of nowhere.
Luca—known in the underworld as Dove of Peace—had also made a request: find out where those mercenaries came from and what they were doing in New York.
Why would mercenaries involve themselves in Mafia family disputes?
What kind of deal had Joe Gallo made with them?
Denham needed to fulfill Dove's request.
"Keep a close eye on German nationals entering and leaving the country," Denham instructed, giving out a series of orders.
German reunification had taken place only a few years earlier. After decades of tension between East and West Germany, the Berlin Wall had finally fallen, reconnecting the two sides and leading to reunification.
But many former East German soldiers had disappeared into the shadows.
Some turned to espionage.
Others became freelance mercenaries operating around the world.
They were well-trained, heavily armed, and often equipped with weapons smuggled out of East Germany. Many of them also maintained connections with Russian arms dealers.
In short, they were organized international criminals—far more dangerous than ordinary assassins.
After discussing the mercenaries, the meeting turned to Joe Gallo.
Denham revealed the intelligence he had obtained from Scarpa.
The room exploded with shock.
Two days ago they had just received information about Yacovelli—and now they had Gallo's location as well?
Even Denham's superiors stared at him in disbelief.
Where the hell was he getting this information?
"I have an informant," Denham said with a grin.
"Because of my position, I have to keep his identity secret for now. But sooner or later, you'll know who it is."
His teammates immediately began praising him—calling his leadership brilliant and his planning flawless.
Harry looked particularly surprised.
The FBI had an informant capable of obtaining this level of intelligence?
Then why bother infiltrating Luca's side in the first place?
Denham spoke calmly.
"Address: XXX, New Jersey. Prepare to move."
---
New Jersey.
Outside the estate.
A car slowly stopped at the gate.
Scarpa stepped out and glanced around at the beautiful surroundings.
"The vibes here is really good," he muttered.
Those guys always cared about that sort of thing.
He remembered Dominic from the Lucchese family, who had bought a manor nearby but ended up getting shot in the head at his own doorstep.
And Frank Lucas, the infamous drug kingpin—the nouveau riche who built a mansion resembling the White House, only for the police to raid it and even overturn his dog's kennel.
Now Joe Gallo was hiding here too.
Scarpa sighed.
"I'm never buying a house in this neighborhood."
After confirming his identity with several Mafia guards, he was allowed inside the manor.
Inside one of the rooms, Scarpa found Joe Gallo reading a book.
Seeing Gallo's deep, thoughtful expression made Scarpa nervous.
He was wearing a wire.
If Gallo discovered it, he would die here.
His mission was simple.
First, confirm Gallo's location.
Second, extract as much information about Gallo's crimes as possible through conversation.
Third, stall for time until the FBI arrived.
The first objective was already complete.
The second turned out to be surprisingly easy.
Gallo handed him a list.
"From now on, follow this list and kill these people," Gallo said.
"The order doesn't matter. I'll send people to support you and provide weapons and money."
Scarpa glanced at the list.
His eyelids twitched.
The first target was Persico—the current boss of the Colombo family.
Next came several high-ranking members of the opposing faction.
After Yacovelli's arrest, Persico had gathered many supporters and promoted several members to help stabilize the collapsing family.
Even a few members of Gallo's own faction had defected to Persico's side.
These traitors would be eliminated one by one.
But the list didn't stop there.
Scarpa saw another name.
Carlo Gambino.
And beneath that—
Luca.
Scarpa felt a chill run down his spine.
Killing Luca would be even harder than killing Gambino.
Everyone in the underworld knew Luca's combat ability was terrifying. Rumors even claimed that John Gotti had died because of Luca's intervention and that Mariggio's rise to power was also connected to him.
Scarpa hesitated.
"Gallo, provoking Luca right now isn't a good idea."
"If the police catch you, you can at least survive in prison. But if you provoke Luca, you might not even make it that far."
"Luca tricked me," Gallo snapped.
"And now he's helping Persico take over the family!"
"I helped him solve the truck drivers' union problem, and this is how he repays me? Fuck with that peace talks shithead!"
"He's just a thug. Gambino's puppet."
Scarpa shook his head.
"Either way, provoking Luca right now isn't wise."
"A thug?"
Gallo laughed coldly.
"Go meet him yourself and see if he's really just a thug."
"If Persico thought the same way you do, the Colombo family would already be eaten alive by Luca."
Scarpa paused.
"I barely know him. Before the civil war, I only visited his club once or twice."
Gallo shook his head.
"Changing your nickname to Dove isn't something just anyone can pull off."
"All you need to understand is this—Gambino would never choose a brute to be the judge."
"You seem to know Luca well," Scarpa said.
Gallo sneered.
"He and Gambino both told me similar things before."
"Those two bastards are the same."
"Gambino doesn't hold the knife himself—he likes to use other people's knives."
"Luca is different. He carries his own knife, but he hides it in his sleeve."
"When you shake his hand, you never know whether he's trying to make friends… or whether he's about to stab you."
He lit a cigarette.
After a deep drag, his emotions finally calmed.
"Gambino and I used to be friends. When he rose to power after the Mangano family incident, I helped him."
"But now we're enemies."
"I also helped Luca wrest control of the truck drivers' union from Pro's influence. Later he became the union president, but when I needed help, he refused."
He exhaled smoke slowly.
"This is the Mafia. Behind every smiling friendship lies a mountain of grudges."
"And only when knives come out does the truth appear."
Scarpa fell silent.
For a moment he realized that Gallo's years studying art and philosophy in prison hadn't been entirely useless.
But it didn't change the fact that the man was still mentally unstable.
"I actually admire Luca a little," Gallo admitted.
"When I first met him, I treated him like just another assassin."
"That was my mistake."
"Now he and Gambino hold the key to every escape route I have."
"So the only thing I can trust… is the gun in my hand."
---
Meanwhile, not far from the manor.
Inside a parked car.
Denham and David listened through their earpieces as Gallo rambled endlessly about Luca and Gambino.
"Are we really just sitting here listening to him rant about Dove?" Denham asked.
David shrugged.
"Treat it like a stand-up comedy show."
"These are Gallo's last words. Every sentence we hear now is one less we'll ever hear again."
Suddenly, McClane's voice burst through the radio.
"Guys! I'm going in!"
Gunshots erupted through the earpiece.
Mixed with McClane's shouting and the enemies' screams, it sounded almost like a chaotic orchestra.
Denham muttered,
"That McClane guy still has bandages on his head, right?"
David grinned.
"He wants a promotion."
"He joined the last drug bust too late and didn't get much credit. This time he wants a big achievement."
"Promotion. Raise."
"He's got two kids to support."
Denham nodded in sympathy.
Raising children was expensive.
Back then he had to save money just to afford subway tickets.
But things started changing after he accepted that membership card from Luca—the Dove of Peace.
Denham still didn't know whether his choices were entirely right or wrong.
But he could see the results.
His mother's health had improved.
His wife smiled more brightly than before.
His son's grades were excellent.
His career was flourishing.
Yes, some of his methods weren't exactly honorable.
But Luca had never forced him to do anything too extreme.
Drug markets were cleaned up.
Mafia criminals were arrested.
All Denham had to do was occasionally look the other way.
Just then, McClane shouted again through the radio.
"Fuck!"
"I ran into that bald bastard again!"
"He kidnapped Gallo!"
Denham and David froze.
They looked at each other.
Then both immediately understood what had happened.
They quickly ordered McClane to let the assassin take Gallo and instead arrest the remaining Mafia members.
Harry rushed over with a gun.
"Where's Gallo?"
"He was taken by that bald guy," McClane said while covering his bleeding forehead.
"Sorry. There were too many assassins—I couldn't stop them."
"Damn it!"
Harry looked furious.
They had finally found Gallo's location, only for him to escape.
But remembering the bald assassin's terrifying strength and the equally skilled killers around him, Harry could only sigh.
McClane leaned closer and whispered,
"Relax, man. You're undercover."
"Gallo's as good as dead anyway."
"And there's still plenty of credit waiting for us with the Colombo family case."
Meanwhile, a car sped down the highway.
Arthur Bishop sat in the back seat, speaking calmly on the phone.
"Gallo is in my custody."
"Bring him over."
Joe Gallo sat beside him, utterly confused.
First the FBI had raided the manor.
Then a group of assassins appeared.
Now he was sitting in a car with a bald killer he had never met before.
"Where are you taking me?" Gallo asked.
"To meet my employer."
"Who?"
"The one paying me to have your people arrested."
Gallo stared at him.
"…Do you think you're funny?"
---
An hour later.
The car passed the Teamster Local560 Truck Drivers' Union building in Jersey City and stopped outside a villa nearby.
Joe Gallo finally met the so-called employer.
In the yard, Luca threw a frisbee.
Before it could reach Gallo, a black-and-white Border Collie sprinted forward, leaped into the air, and caught it perfectly.
"Well done, Lucky!"
Luca clapped happily.
Gallo watched the scene with a dark expression.
Grinding his teeth, he spat out Luca's nickname.
"Dove!!"
The Border Collie trotted over and stopped beside Gallo's legs, tilting its head and staring up at the terrifying man.
Luca laughed.
"It doesn't bite...You can pet it."
Gallo glared at him.
"You dragged me all the way here just to show off your dog?"
Just then, something touched his leg.
The Border Collie gently scratched his calf with its paw—then happily ran back to Luca.
Luca lifted the dog into his arms with a grin.
"See?"
"I told you."
"It's obedient."
"It doesn't bite."
Joe Gallo's face turned completely black.
That damn dog.
I'm going to chop it into pieces.
================================================================================
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