"Our scouts haven't confirmed Mr. Taylor's precise coordinates, but intelligence suggests he's still somewhere in Sicily," Black reported, standing tall at the head of the conference table.

"Double the perimeter sweep," I commanded, locking eyes with him. "If that bastard manages to slip off the island, tracking him across Europe will be a nightmare."

Black nodded curtly. I shifted my gaze down the long  table to the man responsible for auditing our syndicate's narcotics operations.

"Distribution is moving according to schedule, Don Sullivan," he stated, opening a leather dossier. "The communication sent to the Lombardy official indicated he needs time to evaluate our proposal. I’m awaiting his formal response before...