I continued to sit there, arms across my chest, the workers still scrubbing the pans clean in the back.
He continued to smoke his cigar.
He smirked before he released the smoke from his mouth. “What makes you think I speak to him?”
“You have the same politics.”
His smirk remained, and it was accompanied by a slight nod. “Quit while you’re ahead, Butcher. You know what happens to snitches…”
They were mauled in the street, on the way to the car after a nice meal at their favorite restaurant, in broad daylight in the midst of afternoon traffic. Stabbed with knives from every direction, they would have thirty knife wounds before they hit the street—and the attackers would blend into the crowd. There were more codes than mine.
“So, you do know him?”
“If you wanted to play poker, you shou
