Chapter 8 - Tracking The Ghostly Gray SUV Through City Streets
Lorenzo stared down at the slashed photograph of his wife, his breathing slow and controlled like a sniper waiting for a target.
“They know we found the boxcar,” Mason said quietly, leaning over the desk to inspect the high-grade photo stock. “This was printed on commercial equipment used by private investigative firms.”
“It was printed by someone inside the city police intelligence division,” Lorenzo corrected, pointing at a microscopic barcode printed along the bottom margin.
“Standard federal contractor tracking code,” Mason verified, his jaw tightening into a hard knot. “We’re dealing with a leak inside the task force.”
“Find out which vehicle entered our estate perimeter tonight between midnight and one a.m.,” Lorenzo ordered, picking up the photograph.
“Already on it,” Mason replied, pulling a ruggedized tablet from his trench coat and tapping rapidly across the screen. “Our license-plate scanners captured a partial match on a gray GMC Yukon slipping out through the service gate.”
“Run the plates through the municipal toll database,” Lorenzo commanded, sliding the photograph into his inner coat pocket.
“Done,” Mason said, watching the green status bar load across his tablet interface. “The vehicle belongs to a front company registered under the name Sterling Logistics.”
“Sterling,” Lorenzo repeated, tasting the name on his tongue like a bad poison. “A shell corporation tied directly to the Marinos syndicate.”
“The same Greek family trying to muscle in on our West Harbor shipping lanes,” Mason added grimly.
“They didn't just want our shipping contracts,” Lorenzo realized, his eyes narrowing with lethal focus. “They took Isabella to use her as leverage against my supply lines.”
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“Do we hit their downtown warehouse tonight?” Mason asked, his hand dropping onto his weapon.
“No,” Lorenzo replied coldly. “We let them think they have the upper hand while we set a trap of our own.”
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