Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

POV: MIKE

The first call came at 8:47 PM.

Mike was in his office, the city spreading out below him like a map of all the connections he’d spent years building. He dialed a number from memory, not from his phone, from actual memory. This was too sensitive for digital trails.

The phone rang twice.

”Yeah?” The voice on the other end was gravelly, suspicious. Tommy. A port manager Mike had cultivated for three years. A man with access to shipping manifests, customs records, and the kind of information that flowed through the city’s lifeblood.

”Tommy,” Mike said. ”I need information.”

”The kind that costs?” Tommy asked.

”The kind that costs a lot,” Mike confirmed. ”I’m looking for financial flows. Large ones. Moving through New York in the last six months. Flowing toward a specific organization.”

”What organization?” Tommy asked.

”Can’t say,” Mike said. ”But you’ll know it when you find it because the trail will be sophisticated. Professional. Hidden behind shell companies and international transfers.”

There was a pause on the line.

”That’s going to take time,” Tommy said.

”I have forty-eight hours,” Mike said. ”Can you do it?”

”For what?” Tommy asked.

Mike named a number that made Tommy’s breath catch audibly.

”I’ll have something by tomorrow,” Tommy said, and the line went dead.

***

The second call came at 9:15 PM.

This one went to Dr. Rachel, a woman Mike had met at a charity benefit two years ago. A woman who worked in government procurement. A woman who had access to federal spending records that the average citizen never saw.

”Rachel,” Mike said when she answered. ”I need a favor.”

”Mike,” Rachel said, and there was a smile in her voice. ”Always good to hear from you.”

”I need to know about government contracts,” Mike said. ”Specifically, I need to know if there have been any unusual spending patterns. Large sums going to organizations that might be private research facilities. The kind of spending that doesn’t make sense on the surface.”

”That’s asking a lot,” Rachel said. ”Government contracts are classified.”

”I know,” Mike said. ”But if I needed this information and I was willing to pay for it, who would I talk to?”

Rachel was quiet for a long moment.

”You’re asking me to commit a federal crime,” Rachel said.

”I’m asking you to help someone you care about,” Mike said. ”And I’m offering compensation that would make it worth the risk.”

Mike named a figure. It was substantial. It was enough to make a government worker consider betraying classified information.

”I need to think about it,” Rachel said.

”You have forty-eight hours,” Mike said. ”After that, I’ll find someone else.”

He hung up before she could respond.

***

The third call was to Webb, a journalist Mike had helped years ago. A man who owed Mike favors and understood that sometimes journalism meant following money trails that official sources wouldn’t touch.

”I need you to trace something,” Mike said when Marcus answered.

”What kind of something?” Webb asked.

”The kind that involves corporate financing and government contracts,” Mike said. ”I need to know if there’s an organization operating in the shadows that has government protection. And I need to know what they’re funding.”

Webb laughed.

”That’s not journalism,” Webb said. ”That’s conspiracy theory.”

”It’s not a theory,” Mike said. ”Trace it. Find me evidence. I’ll have more information for you by tomorrow that will point you in the right direction.”

”And what do I get out of this?” Webb asked.

”The biggest story of your career,” Mike said. ”If you can connect the dots.”

Webb went quiet.

”Forty-eight hours,” Webb said. ”I’ll see what I can find.”

***

Mike spent the next six hours making calls, leveraging connections, activating the network he’d spent years building.

He called a contact at the FBI who owed him a favor from when Mike had helped him catch a fugitive three years ago.

He called a financial analyst who’d worked with Dimitri’s operations and understood the kind of money trails that most people couldn’t follow.

He called a hacker, and offered him payment for accessing certain financial databases that weren’t technically supposed to be accessible.

By midnight, Mike had set in motion a web of investigation that would consume the next forty-eight hours.

***

The first real information came from Tommy.

Mike met him at a diner in Queens, a place where no one they knew would think to look, a place that was deliberately mediocre and forgettable.

Tommy slid a folder across the table.

”Financial flows,” Tommy said. ”Large ones. Moving through the port, through various shell companies, eventually consolidating into accounts that don’t have names attached. Just account numbers.”

Mike opened the folder and began to read.

The numbers were staggering. Millions of dollars moving through New York and Rome every month. Moving through port infrastructure, through customs, through international shipping channels. All of it leading to accounts that had no traceable owners.

”Where does it come from?” Mike asked.

”That’s where it gets interesting,” Tommy said. ”The money originates from multiple sources. Some from legitimate pharmaceutical companies. Some from defense contractors. Some from government agencies.”

Mike’s head snapped up.

”Government agencies,” Mike repeated.

”Yeah. Federal spending. Classified spending, but it’s there. The money flows from government accounts into these shell companies, which then distribute it to various operations.”

Mike understood immediately what this meant.

”They have government backing,” Mike said flatly.

”Not just backing,” Tommy said. ”They have government funding. They’re not just operating with government protection. They’re being actively funded by government agencies.”

***

The information from Rachel came through encrypted email at 2:47 AM.

She’d done it. She’d accessed federal procurement records and found patterns that made no sense on the surface. Large contracts being awarded to organizations that didn’t appear to exist. Spending that was classified at levels that suggested military or intelligence agency involvement.

The spending was in the hundreds of millions of dollars annually.

It was being directed toward research facilities that had no public presence, no government websites, no official acknowledgment of their existence.

And the contracts were being renewed automatically, year after year, without competitive bidding or public oversight.