“Camille is managing her own affairs,” Richard Hart said, taking a sip from his glass. “She is quite disappointed in you, Adrian.”

“I do not care about Camille’s disappointment,” Adrian said. “I want the warrants lifted.”

Salvatore let out a dry, raspy laugh.

“You think a few federal judges can save you?” Salvatore asked. “We own the judges, Adrian.”

In the safe house, Isabella pointed to a red light blinking on the side of her console.

“The federal feed is active,” Isabella murmured. “They are recording this.”

“Is it enough?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Isabella said. “We need him to name the officials.”

On the screen, Adrian took a step closer to the desk where Salvatore sat.

“The judges in the northern district won’t protect you forever, Grandfather,” Adrian said. “Not after what happened at the docks.”

Richard Hart laughed again, a harsh, mocking sound.

“The docks were a minor inconvenience,” Richard said. “The governor has already signed the transport permits for the next shipment.”

“And the federal prosecutor?” Adrian asked. “The one who suddenly dropped the racketeering charges?”