Chapter 22
“He is building a RICO case, Boss,” Marcus continued, handing over a thick, encrypted tablet. “He isn’t taking bribes, and he isn’t backing down. He has tasked a specialized strike force to raid our eastern ports by the end of the week.” Dorian set his crystal glass down on the mahogany desk. The polished leather of his shoes made no sound as he walked toward the center of the room. “A specialized strike force,” Dorian stated softly, “operates under the assumption that they have the element of surprise.” He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his heavily tattooed hands moving with measured precision. “I will not have federal agents disrupting my wife’s gala.” “What are your orders, sir?” Marcus asked. “Find out where Mr. Vance is dining tonight,” Dorian whispered. “And we will explain the reality of his situation.” “He is at the Capital Grille downtown,” Marcus replied. “Then we will attend,” Dorian commanded. “Prepare the car.”
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