Concrete Jungle (Brannigan's Blackhearts Book 12) by Peter Nealen

Author:Peter Nealen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2022-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

“So, we need to talk about what went down last night.” Santelli had been chewing on this since they’d left the warehouse. He never had been necessarily the most articulate, and compared to some men in his chosen profession, he often felt downright slow, but Santelli had never been the sort of man who’d stayed in the Marine Corps just because he didn’t know how to do anything else. He was a thinker, and always had been. It might take him a while to grind his way through a problem, but he’d get through it.

The team had finally all converged back on the safehouse. The sun was just coming up, and every one of them was feeling the sleepless night, but the hot wash had to be gone through. There was more on Santelli’s mind, though, than just the tactical element.

“What’s on your mind, Carlo?” Brannigan was standing near the kitchen, his arms folded, looking about as solid as an oak. The Colonel could be falling down exhausted, but he’d never show it in front of the rest of the team.

“This was supposed to be a Front operation, right?” Santelli scratched his jaw with a thumb. “So, how come it looked like all the dudes we smoked were Russian mob?” He looked around the room at pensive faces. “Hell, we didn’t even really get a chance to test the stuff in the warehouse. Can we be sure that it was this Roulette stuff? What if we just torched a warehouse full of coke, or heroin, just because Dalca wanted the Russkies out of the way?”

There was no response at first. A few gazes were lowered to the floor. Not because any of them were ashamed of what they’d done. It had been pretty obvious that they’d been up against Russian mobsters, and no one was going to mourn any of those bastards. The question still needed to be answered.

“I mean, I’m fine with torching coke, heroin, meth, or whatever.” Curtis was strangely serious. “’Cause fuck that shit.”

“It’s an important question, though.” Brannigan was chewing on the question, himself. “The truth is, right now, we don’t have a huge amount of proof one way or another. That was definitely a mob operation.” He nodded toward the radio scanner on the counter. “We’ve heard enough from the Czech police to confirm that.”

Santelli wasn’t sure what he thought about that. Confirming the intel after they’d made the hit was kind of ass-backwards.

“We saw enough to be pretty sure a few nights ago, Carlo.” Flanagan could have been offended at his recon being questioned, but he wasn’t that kind of guy. “This was a good hit.”

Santelli nodded. “I’m not objecting to smoking some Russian gangsters and burning down some drugs. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just wondering if we’re really doing what we set out to do. This Roulette stuff—if it’s real—sure sounds like something the Front would be into, but where’s the proof, aside from what Dalca’s told us?”

“Well, as much as I hate to put it this way, Carlo, I think we’re going to have to wait and see what happens.

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