Isla's education in the illegal empire began Friday morning.
Not at the office. In a nondescript building in Queens that looked like an abandoned factory from the outside.
Inside, it was a command center.
Monitors tracked shipments. Encrypted communications relayed orders. A dozen people worked with quiet efficiency, moving products that would never appear on any legitimate manifest.
"This is the nerve center," Killian explained. "Everything illegal flows through here. Drugs from Colombia. Weapons from Eastern Europe. Information from everywhere."
"How many people know about this place?"
"Twelve who work here. My six lieutenants. You. Me. Luca. That's it." He led her to a secure room at the back. "If this location is ever compromised, we burn it. Literally. The whole building is rigged to destroy everything in under three minutes."
"Cheerful."
"Practical. In my world, information is more dangerous than bullets."
