He walked out onto the porch, his boots squelching in the wet mud, and began his slow descent back to his car.

I closed the door, locked it, and drew the heavy bolt.

I pulled the phone from my pocket and unlocked the screen.

The message was from an unknown number, routed through three layers of encryption.

The text was brief.

*The harbor master just signed the transfer for Pier 42. Maroni’s trucks are already at the gate.*

I stared at the glowing screen as the rain lashed against the kitchen window.

The harbor master had been on Arthur’s payroll for nine years.

But he had never actually been loyal to Arthur.

He had been loyal to the system I built to keep his name out of the federal database.

I deleted the message and dialed a number I knew by heart.

It bypassed the precinct switchboard and rang directly in the personal office of Police Commissioner Vance.

He picked up on the second ring, his voice thick with sleep and strain.

“I told your boy Gregory to stop calling this line,” Vance muttered.