Frank looked into Rizzo’s eyes. He saw the calculation there—the desperate hope that he could warn his bosses, that he could still get out of this.
For three weeks, he had been following the money. Not drug money. Not gun money. Worse. A whisper network of traffickers who didn’t deal in kilos, but in people. They called themselves "The Congregation." They were ghosts who moved a girl from Odessa to a cargo ship in Newark, then to a basement in Queens, and finally to a place where her name would be forgotten. o justiceiro serie
Thwip. Twenty minutes later, Frank stood inside the Red Hook warehouse. The rain leaked through holes in the corrugated roof, creating silver curtains that swayed in the dark. The Congregation’s men were good—six of them, armed with automatic rifles, wearing tactical vests. Frank looked into Rizzo’s eyes
"I don't know what you're—"
"You lied," Frank said quietly. "There's no ship. There's a container. Refrigerated. You were going to seal them inside." The intel from the previous week had told him that. He just needed confirmation. Not drug money
That’s when Frank moved.