Sal lifted his drink. Looked like bourbon. Just like his son liked.
“Frank’s taking the lead on this.”
* * * *
Their food arrived. They unwrapped napkin-sealed utensils. Jimmy didn’t need the steak knife because he felt like one had already been used to stab him. He reran the words in his head. Did the newly named First Deputy Commissioner Salvatore Frisano just say that he wanted Jimmy to work alongside the former Captain Francis X. Frisano of the 10th Precinct? No longer did he think this encounter was a setup, it felt like an ambush.
He decided to deflect.
“Wu-Tin knows me. He’ll know what I’m up to.”
“Exactly our strategy,” Sal said. “Put him on the defensive. He’ll screw up.”
“So, what, you want me to contact him? Just go to his offices in…where? Queens?”
“No confronting him.
