Joey Silva did not believe in an open-door policy.

When he took over the operation from the recently deceased Nicholas Bennett, there were close to eighty people in his full or partial employ. He had since expanded it by almost thirty; a sign of the aggressiveness with which he attacked the “business.”

But with all of that, only two of those employees were allowed direct contact with him. In fact, no one else had permission to talk to him unless spoken to first. And those two were also strictly aligned in a “chain of command.”

Number two under Silva was Tony Silva, Joey’s younger brother by two years. His loyalty was unquestioned, and he was the only person allowed to openly disagree with something Joey had done or was doing. Of course, that open disagreement had to be done in private, when the two of them were alone.

The truth was that Tony got the better of the deal when their mother was handing out brains, and on some level Joey knew that and utilized it to his advantage.

Joey, on the other hand, got the major share of toughness and ruthlessness, which explained his number one position on the “family” tree. But Tony was a strong and respected number two; no one doubted that to go against Tony was to go against Joey.

And no one went against Joey.

Number three in the organization was Ralph DeSimone, though no one called him Ralph. He was universally referred to as Philly, since Philadelphia was where he was born. Nicknamers in the Silva operation were not particularly creative, which might explain why Joey was called “Joey,” and Tony was referred to as “Tony.”

So “Philly” DeSimone was allowed access to Joey Silva, though it was well understood by him that Tony was his primary contact. He never expressed any problem with that, probably because the number three position in the Silva family was a powerful and lucrative one.

When it came time to take a meeting with Dominic Romano, it was therefore no surprise that the New Jersey delegation consisted of Joey and Tony Silva, plus Philly DeSimone. Romano, Salvatore Tartaro’s number two, only brought from Vegas two of his “soldiers,” strictly for protection.

Knowing that modern technology left no indoor location 100 percent safe from surveillance, the decision was made to meet outdoors, but in a private setting.

The location they settled on was the Castletop Petting Zoo in Pompton Lakes. It covered three acres and had an assortment of ponies, donkeys, goats, and cows that for some reason attracted enough families each weekend to allow it to keep operating. The star attraction was a large bull that did nothing but stand there and look large and bullish.

Philly knew a guy who knew a guy whose brother-in-law owned the zoo, and a modest financial accommodation was made to arrange a takeover of the place at ten in the morning, when it was closed anyway.

Joey sent an advance party to the zoo that morning to make sure there was adequate security, and installed men at the gate and the perimeter. Joey loved money and power and women and food, but his number one priority was personal protection.

Joey’s men ushered Dominic and his two bodyguards in when they arrived and brought them to where Joey, Tony, and Philly were waiting on benches in front of the pony ride booth. The expression on Dominic’s face as he looked around was the same as if he had just tasted some expired milk; the Castletop Petting Zoo was a long way from Vegas.

Hands were shaken, and brief regards were offered. Dominic and Joey had met before, shortly after Bennett’s death, when their business arrangement was being cemented.

Once the pleasantry phase was concluded, Joey said, “Let’s take a walk.” His second comment was, “Watch out for the goat shit.”

So they started walking, Joey and Dominic together, and Tony and Philly a couple of steps behind, straining to hear what was being said. Soldiers on both sides walked in front of and behind the group. No one was inclined to stop and pet any animals.

“Mr. Tartaro is very unhappy about what happened to Shawn,” Dominic said, referring to Salvatore Tartaro by his last name, as he always did. “He insists that I find out how it went down.”

“So what are you coming to me for?” Joey said. “I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know he was here.”

“A guy like that comes into your territory and you aren’t aware of it? That surprises me.”

“What do you think, I have a booth set up at the airport? Where people have to sign in? This is a big place; I don’t care who’s here and who’s not here. If they bother me, or my business, then I get involved.”

“If one of your people came to Vegas, we would know about it, and he’d be protected.”

“I would tell you he was coming,” Joey said. “Which is what you should have done. If you asked for him to be protected, he’d be walking in goat shit with us right now.”

“He didn’t work for us anymore.”

“Then why does Tartaro give a shit about him?”

It was a good question, and one that Dominic didn’t want to answer, since an accurate response would have been to say that this was really about Tartaro not trusting Joey, and thinking that Joey might be trying to screw him. The truth was that Tartaro didn’t care if Shawn was alive or dead; he only cared about Joey’s involvement.

So Dominic ignored it and said, “We have done very profitable business together. And we’re going to do even more in the future.”

“Damn right, so let’s not screw it up,” Joey said, and then went to his version of conciliatory. “You tell Tartaro that I value his friendship, and his partnership. I had nothing to do with Shawn getting hit; I mean, what’s with this ‘cutting off the head’ shit? That’s crazy.” He turns around and asks Tony, “What’s the name of those nuts that cut off heads again?”

“ISIS,” said Tony.

Joey nodded. “Right. ISIS.”

“Mr. Tartaro still wants to know who hit Shawn,” Dominic said.

Joey nodded again. “So do I, and I’ve got people on the street trying to find out right now. Just tell Tartaro I had nothing to do with it. But I also want to know what the hell Shawn was doing here. Maybe you can find that out, huh?”

“Maybe,” Dominic said, with no enthusiasm or sincerity whatsoever.

Joey smiled. “Good. You do that.”