CLOSE CALLS
The Brooklyn address we got was a warehouse. Of course it was.
Antonio seemed to have a unique pattern of using abandoned buildings, industrial districts, places where gunfire wouldn't draw immediate attention. Places built for hiding and running.
I sat in the surveillance van three blocks away, watching thermal imaging on monitors that showed heat signatures moving inside the target location. Dante's team had positioned themselves around the perimeter. Thirty men. All armed. All waiting for the signal.
"We count six signatures inside," Ghost said, adjusting the equipment. "One in what looks like an office on the second floor. That's probably Antonio. The rest are likely security."
"Six to thirty," I said. "Those are good odds."
"If they don't have reinforcements nearby.
