“Zio, Nikolai, it was surprising to get your call this morning. Especially to meet both of you at your villa, Nikolai,” I say, my mind mostly here, but part of me back at home, wanting to take care of Jessica. After last night, the intense convulsions she went into after we were done, she needs recovery, and to be pulled away to deal with Network politics is not what I want. It wasn't the lack of blood either, I watched her neck and checked in afterwards, there were no rope marks there. She just.... she was pushed to her limits. It was only after midnight that I felt she was safe and held her the rest of the night, her head cradled in my lap in bed.

“Considering what we've heard, Rodrigo, I felt it important to take the risk,” Rachmaninoff says, his voice guarded but still more trusting of me than not. My work is paying dividends in that regard at least. “The Sultan says he has evidence that you've been backstabbing him.”

“If he has it, let him present it,” I reply. “I think he's just still frustrated that I took out his bitch boy so easily. Makes me wonder if perhaps Leon was doing more than errands for Al Gazi.”

Scoglitti chuckles, still my supporter. He's old school to the core, and for him, the idea of The Sultan fucking Leon fits right in with his prejudices, and he's got a lot of them. Me personally, I don't care who The Sultan fucks, but it helps keep them on my side. “It would fit, wouldn't it? But on a more serious note Rodrigo, the timing of the issues between you and The Sultan could not have come at a worse time. Europe is going through political upheaval, even North America is transitioning, and Asia... well, it is my opinion that market's going to be quite difficult in the next decade. The Chinese always respond to problems by cutting themselves off, erecting walls. The Japs are going to implode, and the Koreans... those fucks have always been crazy.”

“It doesn't matter,” Rachmaninoff says, chuckling. “There's a very old Russian mob proverb. The bad wolf gets fat in winter, and lean in summer.”

“I don't understand, Nikolai,” I interject, sitting forward. It could pay to butter up Rachmaninoff a little right now, and besides, he's a good story teller. “Explain please?”

Nikolai sips his coffee and brushes a speck of dust off the lapel of his suit coat before stroking his beard. “Russian history, Rodrigo. During the Revolution, millions died, the czar fell, and men like us thrived, taking the reins of power. We gained a tighter hold during Stalin's purges. And after the Soviets fell, we worked behind the scenes, and look what we have now? I could have nearly anything I want in Russia, and I do. Rodrigo, men in our profession do best when things look like shit. All this upheaval that my friend Scoglitti mentions, I see them as opportunities. Opportunities for men like us to work our way into the back rooms of power. Where we make mistakes is when we start trying to step out of the winter's shadows and into the summer's light, to legitimize our power. Who the fuck needs legitimacy? Legitimacy is what got Gorby out on his ass and Anastasia with a bullet in her fucking head. Give me illegitimate power any day of the week.”

It's chilling, but there's a sense of logic to what Rachmaninoff says. It's not that hard to force a smile, even if I think he's wrong. “Thank you for the lesson, Nikolai.”

“I will politely disagree with my friend,” Scoglitti says, chuckling. “The Soviet Union fell in seventy years. Rome lasted a millenia. But this is an argument that the two of us have had that stretches back what, nearly twenty years now Nikolai?”

“Something like that. I doubt we'll ever see eye to eye on it. Still, I do agree with you that this internal matter with The Sultan is not a good one.”

“I'm willing to back Rodrigo in North America,” Scoglitti says, giving me a thrill. “He's the man we need to handle things there. What do you say, Rodrigo?”

It's the opportunity that I've been waiting for, both the FBI agent side of me and the other side of me. Still, I have my orders, The Sultan comes first. “I'm highly honored by your support, zio. Nikolai, are you of the same mind?”

“I am. The Network is not, if anything, flexible. And you'd be working shipments with your current capo anyway. Al Gazi has no contacts in North America.”

I shrug, and take a sip of my own coffee to decide how I want to reply. “I can work with whoever The Network needs me to. Gentlemen, I appreciate the offer, both of you are truly men of honor. However, it would be better if I was able to settle things between me and The Sultan before we go on with plans about my going to North America.”

“And by settle you mean?” Scoglitti asks, and I lift an eyebrow.

“Settle,” I repeat, causing Rachmaninoff to chuckle icily at my implied threat. Maybe it's his Russian background, but Rachmaninoff always has been a cold blooded man. “Excellent coffee, zio. Thank you, and thank you for your support.”

Scoglitti also looks pleased, I think he just wants a resolution to this situation either way, and reaches out to the table, taking a canoli. “Well, if you are going to settle things with The Sultan, you might want to hurry. He won't be in Sicily for much longer. I got word from The Farm, the final preparations for the weapons shipment start tonight.”

I nod, filing the information away. “Then perhaps I need to visit The Farm and see if I can talk to The Sultan face to face. With Leon out of the way, I'm sure he's taking a more personal interest in his work. Who knows, maybe that's why he's pissed off at me? Nobody likes doing more work. Excuse me please gentlemen.”

I give Rachmaninoff and Scoglitti a respectful nod and depart, getting in my truck to hurry to The Farm. My boss' information was correct, when I get there the shipment is already being loaded on the trucks for taking to the port in Termini. “How much longer?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” the man in charge, apparently The Sultan isn't going to oversee this side of the loading, he's probably more worried about his boat still. “The boss said not to get you near any of this!”

“Because we've got some new shit coming in for my boss!” I yell back. “Considering what I did to Leon the dickless wonder, do you really want to start shit with me on this?”

“Fine, fine,” the lackey in charge says, coming over and lowering his voice. “My boss said that he wants this all loaded up by this afternoon, we're unloading at the boat after that.”

“You guys are heading out tonight?” I ask, and the thug nods. “Fast load. You able to handle it? I can lend a hand. My beef was with Leon, not you guys.”

“No, boss' orders. But thanks,” the guy says, softening a little. He understands, sometimes shit just happens in this line of work. “It fucking sucks, but that's what the boss ordered, we load hard and fast. We leave port tonight by midnight so we can make the fucking Suez early in the morning. Which means that we're busting our backs for the rest of the day.”

“I hear that, man. I had to heave a few crates around when I was getting started with Scoglitti. Best of luck. We don't need the building until tomorrow morning, so I guess we're cool. Take care.”

The Sultan's man gives me a nod and turns back to his work while I retreat to my truck. Once inside I drive into the hills, pulling out my phone. This isn't something that can be handled via text message.

“Yo,” my contact says, always casual until I've identified myself properly. Security.

“Wassup? How's your sister? Julia said she wanted me to call. Something about her boyfriend, Antonio?”

Security completed, my contact shifts into a professional tone. “I didn't expect a call from you, Campo. What's wrong?”

“The Sultan's weapons shipment is leaving the docks tonight at midnight. He's going to be on it. They're going through the Suez Canal.”

“The the US Navy is just going to have to do some maneuvers in the international waters in the area,” my contact says. “And we can make sure a couple of ships from the Ike's carrier group are on the other side just in case. Can you get it on your side?”

“The Sultan suspects me, he's ghosting right now, probably hiding on the boat. No way I can take him out unless I just get lucky.”

“Do what you can. I'll coordinate with other agencies on our side, see what we can do.”

“Note, there might be a crate of Claymores on board that I daisy chained to a cell phone trigger. Don't know if you can get signal to it though. The number's 255-743-8905,” I reply, glad that at least a few area codes are reserved for clandestine use. I don't need someone calling their grandmother and accidentally blowing up the boat.

“Understood. Your orders still stand, if you get the chance, Omar Al Gazi is greenlit to be neutralized. Good work, Campo. Sorry about the blow up last time.”

“Shit happens. Will update you later. Campo out.”

I hang up my phone, setting it down and wondering what to do next. It's almost sunset, I need to stop at home and see how Jessica's doing, then plan my next move.

I might have work tonight.