Chapter 3

Spoilers for The Bean Town Bailout Job

"Hardison, anything new?" Nate asked, as he settled into his comfortable chair.

Glancing up from his laptop, the hacker grinned widely. "I got a line on our client's former boss," he said. He clicked a recent image on screen of an older man walking to his limo. He was flanked by three bodyguards and judging by the bulges under their jackets, they were obviously well armed.

A beautiful blond hung on the man's left arm, dripping in expensive jewelry from head to toe.

"Okay, he has a thing for beautiful young women," observed Nate. "Anything else?"

"Young?" snorted Hardison. "Hell, they're barely out of the cradle, barely legal."

"Hardison, focus."

Another image took its place on screen. "Now this," he stated, "is the latest Intel from Nevada law enforcement." He scrolled down the list. "Wire taps, undercover surveillance. You name it."

Nate rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he perused the list.

"Wat'cha thinking Nate?"

"Vegas has done a pretty good job of keeping the mob presence away from their casinos. They don't want to take a chance of losing their gaming license." He tapped his index finger lightly against his lip, deep in thought.

Hardison waited patiently, anticipation hung heavy in the air.

"I've got it," yelled Nate suddenly. "Hardison show me what you've got on the Vegas extortion and racketeering rings. Cross-reference it with Sal's old boss. What's his name?"

Hardison's hands flew across the keyboard. "Falconi's his name, and cheating is his game." A few keystrokes later Hardison pulled up the file. "Got something."

"Let's see it."

Hardison clicked it on screen. "Damn, he's got his sticky fingers in nearly every enterprise in town!"

"This list is too long. We need to eliminate some."

"What do you want first?" asked the hacker.

"Go to the prostitution files. Pull up everything as far back as two years."

"Nope," muttered Hardison. "Still too many."

"Make it six months and check for any audio or video."

"Ha, bingo! Less than twenty instances."

"Show me one, Hardison."

A grainy video of Falconi came into view, along with two other men. They were gathered around a weather-beaten dock, staring down into the murky water. Clutching their fishing poles in their hands, they appeared to be happily passing the day fishing. Audio from the feed told a different story however.

"Subjects are formulating their plans to bring in new meat for the body markets," said the undercover agent. "Time frame is less than one week." Silence for a moment. "Copy that," said the voice. "Also, request additional manpower for the take down." The video faded away into nothing.

"That was three months ago," stated the hacker.

"And how did it turn out?"

"I'm way ahead of you," said Hardison smugly. The next video showed a well orchestrated raid taking place in an adult night club. "Similar raids were carried out all over town at exactly the same time to minimize the risk of the bad guys getting away."

"And did any of the bad guys get away?"

"One name in particular pops up. Wanna take a guess?"

"Falconi. Tell me Hardison, who tipped him off?" The wheels were turning in Nate's mind.

"Unknown, Nate."

"Hmm. You know, when Sophie and I talked to Nora Bronson the other day, she said her husband hasn't been himself for about two months. The raids took place two months ago."

"Coincidence?"

"Not likely, Hardison. No, I think Sal tipped Falconi off beforehand. That's the only thing that fits this puzzle."

"For what reason? Why would Sal risk the lives of his family for that slime bag? He had a good life here in Boston."

"Remember the bank job a few months back? The Irish mob was mixed up in that. The mob's all over the place, city to city, state to state. Someone could have recognized Sal and reported it. Sal knew if the feds got wind of it, they'd uproot his family once again. So he kept quiet, hoping to find a way to dig himself out. But once you're in the mob there's no way out alive."

"So here we are," remarked Hardison, "trying to do the impossible."

"Nothing's impossible if you put your mind to it. We beat the Irish mob; we can sure as Hell beat these wise guys. They're only human, and they put their pants on one leg at a time, same as you or me."

"So what's the plan? I assume you got one?"

"You know I do," he said, as he rubbed his hands together. "What I need you to do is call Sophie and Parker, fill them in on everything so far. We'll work out the details later on tonight. Then first thing tomorrow, I want you to work your way into the county jail. Find out how Eliot's coming along. Make sure that our client's son is alright."

"What about Sal?" asked Hardison?

"First things first. The son's safety is all that matters right now. On second thought, start tracking his moves. Maybe we can find something to work with later."

"I doubt the father's even worth our time," remarked Hardison gruffly. He deserves everything he has coming to him."

Nate silently watched as the hacker went to call Sophie. Maybe the hacker was right about the father, but the only way to find out for certain was to ask him. Nate made a mental note to do that, and soon.