Vancouver wanted to argue further, to convince King that the conservative approach was safer. But he recognized the look in King's eyes—the absolute certainty that came from fifteen years of successfully navigating law enforcement scrutiny, of outmaneuvering investigators, of building an empire in the shadows.
King had always been willing to take calculated risks. Usually, those risks paid off. But eventually, everyone's luck ran out.
"I'll coordinate the resumption of operations," Vancouver said finally. "New locations, new protocols, maximum compartmentalization. But I want it on record that I think this is premature."
"Noted." King pulled up a calendar on his computer. "Mallman's transaction proceeds in one week, not two. New route, new intermediaries, completely separate from anything Perez knew about. If we can process eight million dollars successfully while under DEA surveillance, it sends a message to all our clients that we're still viable, still capable."
"And if Noah intercepts it?"
"Then we've lost eight million dollars and proven your point about being too aggressive. But I don't think he will. He's working from Perez's intelligence, which is now obsolete. We're creating new systems faster than he can track them."
Vancouver hoped King was right. But he'd been in this business long enough to know that overconfidence killed more criminals than law enforcement incompetence.
His phone buzzed again—another message, this time from one of their field operators. He read it and looked up at King. "We have a problem. Marcus Vega—one of the team members involved in Perez's disposal—has been identified by the DEA. They pulled rental records for the Suburban we used, traced it to him."
King's expression didn't change. "How exposed is he?"
"Moderately. He was careful, used a corporate account and false credentials. But if Noah's people dig deep enough, they'll find connections to our organization. And Vega was in the vehicle that transported Perez's body. If there's forensic evidence—blood, DNA—it links him directly to the murder."
"Then he's a liability that needs to be managed."
Vancouver knew what that meant. "We could relocate him, get him out of the city before Noah's people can grab him for questioning."
"Or we could eliminate the liability entirely."
Vancouver met King's gaze. "He's been with us for three years. He's loyal, professional, hasn't given us any reason to doubt him."
"Except that he's been compromised and represents a direct connection to Perez's murder. If the DEA arrests him, what do you think he'll do? Face decades in prison for killing a federal agent, or cooperate in exchange for a deal?"
It was a fair question. Loyalty was strong until it was tested against the reality of life imprisonment. And Vega had a family—a wife, two young children. That gave the DEA leverage.
"Give me twenty-four hours," Vancouver said. "Let me talk to him, assess his commitment. If I think he's going to break, we'll deal with it. But I don't want to kill a loyal operator just because Noah's people identified him."
King considered this, then nodded. "Twenty-four hours. But be clear with him about what happens if he cooperates with law enforcement. Some people need to understand that betrayal has consequences more severe than prison."
Vancouver left the office and drove through the empty pre-dawn streets of Manhattan, heading for a safe house in the Bronx where Marcus Vega was currently staying. He'd been there since the night of Perez's death, laying low while HTBB assessed the situation and determined next steps.
The safe house was a nondescript apartment in a building full of nondescript apartments—the kind of place where neighbors minded their own business and didn't ask questions. Vancouver parked three blocks away and approached on foot, checking for surveillance. Chen's people didn't know about this location yet, but it was only a matter of time.
He knocked on the door in the recognition pattern. Vega answered immediately, looking tense. He was a compact man in his mid-thirties, former Marine, the kind of professional operator HTBB valued—disciplined, capable, willing to do difficult work without asking questions.
"We have a problem," Vancouver said without preamble as he entered the apartment.
Vega's jaw tightened. "The DEA identified me."
"Yes. They have rental records connecting you to the vehicle used to transport Perez's body. They'll be looking for you, probably planning to arrest you for questioning."
"I used false credentials, covered my tracks—"
"Not well enough. Noah's people are good, and they're motivated. Eventually they'll find connections to the organization, trace your movements, build a case." Vancouver sat in one of the apartment's cheap chairs. "Which means you have a decision to make."
Vega remained standing, his posture rigid. "What decision?"