Chapter 17

Nick and the others had been in Dallas for two days before the surveillance on Moretti paid off. It was afternoon. Nick had been talking with Elizabeth.

"What did she say?" Ronnie asked.

"We're on," he said. "Moretti just made a nine o'clock reservation at a steakhouse here in town."

"I could go for a steak," Ronnie said.

"You wouldn't like the bill," Nick said. "It's one of the most expensive restaurants in Dallas."

"Figures," Lamont said. "A mob boss isn't gonna eat in some greasy diner."

"How many bodyguards with him?" Ronnie asked.

"We don't know yet. It depends on how many cars. One car, maybe two bodyguards. Two cars, figure six."

"Is his wife going with him?"

"Yes. The reservation is for two."

"Then he's not expecting trouble," Ronnie said. "Why should he? He's the big cheese in town. People are scared of him. This isn't the old days, when every tabloid had pictures of these guys lying dead in a barbershop or on a sidewalk somewhere. The wars between the different families are over. It's all a business conglomerate now."

"Maybe so, but he still keeps serious firepower around him. I don't think his business is always friendly. The death of his underboss probably shook him up a little. He'll have his heavies with him."

"How do you want to play it?" Lamont asked.

"We can't take him in the restaurant. Too many witnesses, too much chance of collateral damage. Either on the way there, or when he's going home. "

"Going home is better," Ronnie said. "It's later at night. It's dark. He's had a good steak, maybe a bottle of wine, enjoyed his meal, he's relaxed."

"Makes sense," Lamont said. "How far is it between his house and the restaurant?"

"Around eight or nine miles. The easiest way from where he is into the city is on a toll road that goes from near his home right to downtown, so that's probably the way he'll go. That means cameras and tollbooths. We'll be too exposed if we take him there. It would be better if we do it before he gets on the highway. Or maybe right after he exits, but that's where the police presence picks up."

"So we grab him somewhere between the restaurant and the road, or before he gets to his fancy suburb?" Ronnie said.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"We'll do a little recon. Drive between the restaurant and his house. We can time it, figure out where we want to make our move."

"It's still not going to be easy," Ronnie said. "His guards will put up a fight. How do we handle them? What are the rules of engagement?"

"Whatever we say they are," Nick said.

"Kill them?"

"There isn't any other way, if they start shooting. Unless they throw up their hands and surrender."

"Like that's gonna happen," Lamont said.

"In case you have any doubts, remember that Moretti is responsible for countless murders, child trafficking, drug distribution, loan sharking and just about every other kind of lowlife criminal behavior you can think of. He'd cut your throat for fun. The people who work for him are the scum of the earth. Not to mention the fact that he sold nuclear bombs to terrorists."

"Just asking," Ronnie said.

"Ideas on how we do it? "

"We need a van," Lamont said.

"What are you thinking?" Nick said.

"We run him off the road, take care of the guards, throw a bag over his head and throw him in the back of the van. Then we drive away to some quiet place where we can ask our questions."

"What if he doesn't want to answer our questions?" Ronnie asked.

"Then we frighten him. He has to believe terrible things will happen to him if he doesn't tell us what we want to know."

"Works for me," Ronnie said.

"Let me make some calls," Nick said.